Lucky Star: A Hollywood Love Story

by Rebecca Norinne Caudill

  Once Jillian and I were done filming, I’d joined Sarah back at our new loft where we’d spent several happy months until we sold it and bought a bigger house on the opposite end of Lester Beach from where we’d first stayed and gotten married. While we were here in L.A. for the premier, work was being done on the house to capture some of the elements we’d so loved about Thad’s place, including adding in the floor to ceiling windows I’d loved so much in that house and the loft.

  “Alright, let’s do this,” I said, sliding along the leather seat and pulling Sarah with me, but she halted me before I could exit the car. “Wait,” she said, placing her hand on my shoulder. When I swiveled in her direction, she took my face in her hands and flicked her eyes between mine, studying my face. After a few seconds she said, “I want you to know how proud I am of you.”

  “I know,” I acknowledged on a smile because it was true. She didn’t need to tell me because it was there in everything she’d ever done for me. From the very beginning, she’d been my biggest fan and because of her taking a chance on me, I’d been able to get my shot at the role that had changed our lives forever.

  She leaned forward and placed an intoxicatingly slow kiss on my lips, and then sighing, pulled back. “Are you sure it’s not too late to go back to the hotel so you can have your wicked way with me?”

  I eyed her hungrily. In a black halter dress that swayed tantalizingly against her full, ripe breasts every time she breathed, it was all I could do not to slip my hands under the fabric and cup her in my palms. If I did though, I’d never leave this car and we both knew it.

  “Later,” I said, with another kiss that promised when all this was over, I’d devour every succulent inch of her beautiful fucking body.

  Sighing, she slid her hands down my shoulders and rested them against my chest. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

  “I expect you to.” My wolfish smile told her I had no plans to take it easy on her. We’d been married for almost a year and every time I was with her was better than the last. I never got tired of exploring her body, of listening to the sounds she made when I entered her, the moans and gasped she shared as I brought her to ecstasy.

  “Okay,” she said on a sigh. “The sooner you get out there the sooner we can go back to the hotel.” She dropped her hands and nudged me forward. “Let’s go.”

  Stepping out of the limo into the bright lights of Tinsel Town, my hand raised in a relaxed wave, the crowd erupted into a roar of my name, my character’s name, and chants of “over here, over here” as photographers and reporters vied for my attention. Searchlights crisscrossed the starless night sky while overhead helicopters buzzed as they jockeyed for the best position to capture the red carpet arrivals from the air.

  Pulling Sarah tight against me, I stepped onto the red carpet and led her over to the first reporter I’d been instructed to speak to. Rather than Jillian and I giving joint interviews, she’d arrived twenty minutes before, the beleaguered Murray on her arm. After I’d learned about the role she’d played in setting up our fauxmance, I’d distanced myself and we’d gone from being friends to something more closely resembling distantly polite colleagues. Thankfully, we were both professional enough to be able to manufacture the type of fake passion the studio had hoped for. Much to their surprise, the fans seemed to accept that we’d never hooked up and were just good friends. Only once filming had wrapped did Broderick finally admit the “relationship” had never been necessary.

  Leading Sarah up to a reporter I recognized from a previous interview I’d done at the Toronto International Film Festival back in September, I shook his hand and offered myself up for his inspection. Even though Broderick hadn’t officially screened anything at TIFF, he’d shared a few key scenes with several influential outlets and so far, feedback was unanimously positive. James here worked for one of those magazines and while he hadn’t been privy to the screening, I had given him more time than some other reporters while in Toronto and now he’d repay the clicks that interview had generated for him with a positive interview now.

  “Hi Cameron, thanks for stopping by,” James opened while the cameraman next to him taped the footage. “Coming off the sneak peek Broderick shared at TIFF and the early screening he conducted the Vancouver International Film Festival in October, early buzz about your performance is incredibly positive.”

  “Thanks James, I’m really happy with how things turned out. It was a pleasure working with a director like Broderick, and of course, Jillian is extremely talented. They both made my job incredibly easy and I’m thrilled Broderick took a chance on me.”

  “As you should be,” he responded, then segued into his next question. “There was a lot of skepticism early on over the source material being a good fit for film, but it seems there was no cause for concern. How’d you find filming an adaptation of a beloved book?”

  “It was great. The dialogue was incredibly strong to begin with, and the relationship Katrina Kaspian created between Xander and Arabella was so emotionally charged that I’d argue it was the perfect one to bring to film. I’m just happy I was able to do this complex, damaged character justice.”

  “Looking at you standing here in a … Gucci suit, I’m going to guess—”

  “Dean Boothe,” I corrected since it was important for my endorsement deal to get the brand out there as often as possible without being obvious or obnoxious about it.

  “Right,” James swallowed nervously. “Dean Boothe, of course. You recently signed on to be a brand ambassador for them.”

  “And happily,” I continued, smiling winningly into the camera. “At six-foot-five, not everything works on my frame, but Dean, being extremely tall himself, has a keen understanding of how to dress as body like ours.” Chuckling, I steered the conversation back to the topic at hand. “But I’m guessing you don’t want to know who I’m wearing and instead want to talk about the physical transformation it took to play a hardened criminal like Xander.”

  James laughed. “Thank you, yes.”

  As I answered his question, Sarah stood at my side like a pro. Initially I’d been worried about how she’d feel being cast into the spotlight only to be virtually ignored, acting more as a decoration for my public person than someone reporters cared to acknowledge. She was used to being asked, almost as an afterthought, who she was wearing and while I knew inside she hated the focus only on her appearance, she stood proudly next to me each and every time we had to walk a carpet and told the world how proud she was of me. Tonight was no exception.

  “And your lovely wife Sarah. You got married during filming, right? How did she take your rather graphic sex scenes with your co-star Jillian?”

  Sarah stiffened next to me. It wasn’t that I was being asked about the sex scenes I’d had to film – the most awkward fucking thing in the world, by the way – that bothered her, but rather the fact that even though she was standing right next to me, he hadn’t asked her how she felt about it.

  Despite my own annoyance, I put on my actor’s mask and laughed good-naturedly at this question. “Well, she’s standing right here. I’m sure she’d be happy to tell you.”

  “Oh, right,” James stammered, and then turned his microphone in Sarah’s direction. “Tell us, what was it like knowing your husband had to film such graphic material?”

  Sarah swallowed and when she answered, you would have thought she’d been the one to go through media training instead of me. Only, she hadn’t. Unless, of course, you counted the years she’d worked for Broderick a crash course in what not to say in Hollywood. Which, come to think of it, really had been a type of its own media training.

  Turning on the charm, she tinkled out a sly laugh. “You forget James, I used to work for Broderick. Not only did I read the script well before Cameron ever had and knew exactly what sort of scenes he’d have to film, but I’ve also ban a fan of Katrina’s writing for many years.” She wrapped her arm in mine and leaned in closer, subtly signaling there was no discord between us and
the idea of me making simulated love on camera didn’t faze her at all. They didn’t need to know that Shanna had brought her on set each day we’d filmed one of the ten arduous scenes in question, and that half of the cuts Broderick used where the camera zoomed in on my face, my eyes had actually been glued to my wife’s, not Jillian’s.

  Undeterred, James continued his life of questioning. “And having your husband writhing naked with his co-star didn’t bother you?”

  Sarah looked him dead in the eye. “Have you ever been on set when a love scene is being filmed?” she asked, her voice giving nothing away. When James shook his head no, she continued. “It’s the least sexy thing you can imagine. First of all, neither of them was completely nude, and second of all, there are scores of people milling around during filming telling Cameron and Jillian where to angle their bodies for maximum impact, how to breathe, where to look, what to show, what to cover. So no, even though Jillian is an extremely beautiful and charming woman, I wasn’t bothered at all.”

  Turning to me, James asked his final question as someone from the PR team whispered in his ear that he needed to wrap the interview up. “Cameron, you must love knowing you have a wife so well versed in Hollywood and its inner workings. How has being married to an insider changed your approach to acting?”

  I glanced down at Sarah and smiled adoringly at her. “I wouldn’t be here without her.” At that same moment a flash burst in front of us, capturing for posterity the obvious love I felt for the woman by my side.

  By the time we woke the next morning, the PR team had already sent over a digital clip book with all of the articles and snippets that had been published immediately following the premier. I knew more would be coming later today, but so far several outlets had used the photo of Sarah and me in their coverage of the movie’s local premier and my rise to fame. Each was captioned with a similar line below our picture: “Cameron Scott and his beautiful wife, the artist Sarah Travers Scott.”

  It seemed Hollywood had finally woken up to something I’d known from the first moment I’d laid eyes on her. Sarah’s beauty – both inside and out – could not be denied.

  Thank you for reading Cameron and Sarah’s story. I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, please take the time to leave a review on the site where you purchased it or on Goodreads. Reviews are so important to authors, especially us indies, as it helps others find our books.

  Now that you’ve finished reading Lucky Star: A Hollywood Love Story, you may be asking yourself if Eagle Harbour is a real place, and if so, how you can go there. To answer your question, it is and it isn’t. Eagle Harbour is based on Tofino, a small fishing-slash-logging-slash-surfing village on Vancouver Island, and one of my favorite places on the planet. The landscape described in this book is all Tofino, as are a few of the restaurants and other establishments (with names changed, of course). However, while I’ve loved getting to interact with and know some of the residents of that remarkable place, none of the characters in this book are based on them. If you’re interested in learning more about Eagle Harbour – err, Tofino – you can read this post I wrote back in September 2015.

  Finally, I want to give you a little hint about my next contemporary romance, Trying Sophie, coming Late Summer 2016. Sophie Newport is the award-winning travel reporter who penned the blog that made Sarah want to visit Eagle Harbour in the first place. When Sophie’s grandfather has a heart attack, she puts her travels on hold to move back to Ireland to help her grandmother run the family pub. When she arrives, she learns the family business is in bigger trouble than anyone knew. Sophie’s trying her best to bring Fitzgerald’s Pub back to its former glory, but she’s constantly distracted by the good looks and charismatic charm of her childhood nemesis Declan O’Shaughnessy. Declan, one of Ireland’s most famous rugby players, has loved Sophie since they were kids and now that she’s back on Irish soil, he vows to change her mind about him once and for all. When Sophie’s grandpa is back on her feet, she has a choice to make: leave Ireland and Declan behind, or put down roots in the last place she expected with the man she swore to hate.

  First, I want to thank you, dear readers, for purchasing this book. Your continued support means the world to me. I hope you love Cameron and Sarah as much as I do.

  To my husband, Alan, for showing me that happily-ever-afters do exist. Thank you for supporting my dreams. I couldn’t do it without you.

  To my mom, Laura Waldon, who loves everything I do and has no problem telling the world about it. If you follow me on Facebook, you’ve seen the fervor with which she supports me. I’m still laughing that I recently had to tell someone the person who literally likes everything I post isn’t actually a stalker.

  To my friend and fellow author Jamaila Brinkley, thanks for your encouragement and for helping me write blurbs that aren’t overly wordy. Also for telling people about my mad Photoshop skills.

  To the best damn writing partner a girl could ever have, a million thanks to Amy Stearman. She keeps me focused and helps point me in the right direction when I second-guess myself. I hope twenty years from now we’re still reading each other’s work.

  To my friend Martina, who helped me come up with a very special passage in this book. The beauty of the words spoken were definitely inspired by her.

  To John Legend, whose “All of Me” is the perfect song to accompany this book. The lyrics so reflect Cameron’s heart and his love for Sarah. In fact, I recommend you listen to Legend’s whole Love in the Future album. It’s a wonderful journey of sex, love, and desire from beginning to end.

  I’d also like to thank my partners in crime in the Ginger Submarine, without whom the idea for this book would never have come about. Our ship may have sunk, but it’s been amazing getting to know each of you and I hope we’ll be rolling our eyes together long into the future.

  Rebecca Caudill hates writing about herself in the third person but since that's how these things are typically done, she'll do it under protest.

  Rebecca read her first book when she was just four years old and has been hooked on the written word ever since. When she wasn't writing her own stories, she was sneaking copies of her mom's paperback romances to read late into the night. (Which, thinking back, was probably so not okay.)

  After graduating from the University of Pittsburgh with a degree in Journalism, she embarked on a career in technology public relations in Silicon Valley, working for some of the country's hottest start-ups and publicly traded companies. In 2014, after more than a decade of writing words ascribed to other people, she quit to pursue writing full time.

  Rebecca lives in Dublin, Ireland, with her husband. When not writing, she is exploring her new home town and traveling across Europe searching for inspiration for her next story. (Hint: it probably involves travel and rugby.)

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