Rocker Shenanigans: Sylvie + Shandor
Alyson Santos & Sunniva Dee
Publication date: December 19th 2016
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Romance
SynopsisThey rock hard, play hard, and live life freaking hard. So when it comes to love it's no surprise they screw up just as hard. Join an amusing cast of characters from Sunniva Dee's and Alyson Santos' rock star novels as they meet and pursue each other amidst the backstage chaos of their world.Rocker Shenanigans is a romantic comedy series of novellas that will toss you into the fun, sexy, and hilarious side of rocker life.Rocker Shenanigans I:Sylvie Drake is ecstatic when her rock-goddess sister invites her to a charity event in the Bahamas. With a lineup featuring legends like Night Shifts Black, Clown Irruption, and Tracing Holland, how could this weekend not be totally epic?One word: Shandor.Smoldering gaze, cocky smile, and passionate hands that dominate a guitar. Everything about this mysterious stranger screams out-of-her-league.Shandor Xodyar is here to work. And keep his fiery cousin out of trouble with the threat of former flames breathing down their necks. What he didn’t count on is a three-word bombshell disrupting his mission:Holland’s teen sister.Unassumingly sexy, raw, and barely legal, there’s no way entertaining the forbidden electricity can end well.
Then again, some ignored warnings are worth the consequences.
Rocker Shenanigans: Sylvie + Shandor
I swear his eyes grazed mine before they dismissed me because I’m not famous. Not my sister. But gosh, I want to change his mind. Have to.
I do a quick scan to test my conclusions, but no, only the old cougar with the scandalous miniskirt could have been the other recipient of that smoldering message. Maybe she… no. No! I know nothing about that overload of hotness except he doesn’t need a desperate grandmother to feed his ego. Okay, I don’t know that. Sometimes you just have to have faith, right?
I can’t tell if he wants me to approach or stay the hell away, but I don’t have a choice when the paralysis wears off and my bare legs start guiding me toward his loose-cut jeans. Jeans that hide… I blush. I don’t usually worry about what could be going on in a guy’s jeans.
Say something, Sylvie. And not about his pants.
“I like your guitar.” Ugh! WTH?! I might as well have said I liked his subscription to Time Magazine.
He just stares at me for a moment, and I’m praying that slight slip in his expression is because he didn’t hear me.
He’s so not grateful for my praise, but I can’t stop now that I have his attention. I find myself rising on my toes, hoping the slim muscles in my toned thighs are making a pretty picture beneath my tiny shredded shorts. Yes, it’s December. It’s also the Bahamas at a resort that promised a buffet of hot rockers. Funny, I suddenly only notice one. And he needs to notice me.
“I’m Sylvie Drake,” I continue, even though I know that means nothing to him. “My sister is Holland Drake.”
I shoot a thumb toward the opposite corner where my dear sibling is… hanging on Luke. If Luke, then Casey. Thank you grade-nine Algebra, and I’m suddenly annoyed I never got that promised text from Holland. Then again, since my attention zeroed in on this inferno, I haven’t noticed much else. My phone could be replacing the moons of Jupiter with all its flashing and I wouldn’t know it.
His brows knit because that’s what he said, except he didn’t. Still, I don’t know how to correct him with him looking at me like that. Even slanted in confusion, I feel the intensity of those golden embers shaded by dark lashes. Darnit, I’m Sylvia. It’s fine. I can be Sylvia because he’s… my body doesn’t need words as it answers his piercing concentration with all kinds of adult stuff. Holland would kill me if she knew what was going through my head. So much worse than gin and tonics. So much tastier. Tastier? Too adult. The lady with the miniskirt thinks he’s “tasty.” I think he’s… crap. I suck at this. What would Holland say?
“What key are you playing in?”
Rocker Shenanigans: Sylvie + Shandor
I guide Sylvie away, toward Luke’s and my former outpost. She’s wearing flat shoes, pink ones that remind me of dancers. They’re as innocent as she is.
“Are you mad? Sorry I said all that. Shit-shit-shit,” she adds now that Big Sis is out of the way.
I turn her around and link her against me. Ah talk about insta-whatever-this-is. It’s only been hours, and I already missed holding her close.
She’s young. Complicated. I shouldn’t do this. As if that wasn’t enough, she lives in Canada, while I tour the world for a living. I’ve only known this living compulsion of a woman for twenty-four hours. “No, I’m not mad. Good day so far?” I force myself to add.
“It’s been whatever,” she says, sounding composed and subtly unhappy at once, a girl thing. Gypsy women are clear about their feelings though. If it’s red, it’s red. It won’t be salmon-colored.
“You know what’s super-sad about texts? You can’t take them back.”
I’ve found my wall partition again and lean the two of us against it. “Yeah?” I tug on a turquoise loop of hair that happened to land on my knuckles. “What would you have taken back? I’ll erase it from my mind.”
“Yeah, right,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Anyway. I wanted to say that...”
I meet her gaze, waiting for the rest, but the more she stares back, the more she chickens out.
“Yeah...” She breathes it out. Which is an issue. We’ll have to work on that.
“Will you stop?”
“Stop being mouthwatering.” Eyes like saucers do exist, and they’re the prettiest thing you’ll ever see. “Listen.” I frame her face with my hands and try to make her understand. For emphasis, I give her a headshake before I move on. “You know how long it’s been since we met?”
She nods fast though my question was only rhetorical. I realize she probably has it down to the hour.
“Okay, because I’m trying really hard, here.”
“You are?” She sounds like that’s a good thing, but I was going to tell her I’m thinking we should not do the quick version of an entire relationship in four days. If things go according to—I don’t know—everything we’ve done so far—we’ll be fucking pregnant in four days.
No, we’re good.
“Yes. Sylvie.” I tighten my hold to make her focus. “You’re how old?” Rhetorical again. It’s not like I’ll ever forget face-planting to a teen goddess.
“So. Sylvie. You just started college. You’re stead-bound for four long fucking years. Me, I’m about to turn twenty-six, and I’m never in one place more than a week at a time.” I’ve been with her since Friday, I think next. What in the freaking world makes me even talk like this?
Rocker Shenanigans: Sylvie + Shandor book can be read as a standalone
Shandor >> In The Ansence of You
Sylvie >> Tracing Holland
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Between studies, teaching, and advising, Sunniva has spent her entire adult life in a college environment. Most of her novels are new adult romance geared toward smart, passionate readers with a love for eclectic language and engaging their brain as well as their heart while reading.
Born in the Land of the Midnight Sun, the author spent her early twenties making the world her playground. Southern Europe: Spain, Italy, Greece--Argentina: Buenos Aires, in particular. The United States finally kept her interest, and after half a decade in Los Angeles, she now lounges in the beautiful city of Savannah.
Sometimes, Sunniva writes with a paranormal twist (Shattering Halos, Stargazer, and Cat Love). At other times, it's contemporary (Pandora Wild Child, Leon's Way, Adrenaline Crush, Walking Heartbreak, and Dodging Trains, coming in late March 2016).
This author is the happiest when her characters let their emotions run off with them, shaping her stories in ways she never foresaw. She loves bad-boys and good-boys run amok, and like in real life, her goal is to keep the reader on her toes until the end of each story.
CONNECT WITH SUNNIVA