Meet Michael & Laine in this Hollywood themed second chance romance by C.D.Reiss!
NOW
AVAILABLE!
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1RXBv1n
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1FlYvSs
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iBooks - http://apple.co/1KS8bUC
ShutterGirl Book Trailer:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_u2QJM0key0&feature=youtu.be
Blurb
ONE movie star on the cusp
of greatness
ONE broken girl who touched
him
TEN years to forget her
A MILLION stories in
Hollywood
I am not hurt.
I don’t need a second chance with him, or a life I thought I had.
While he was out forgetting me to become a movie star, I was building a career out of nothing. A career as a paparazzi, but a career. For a foster kid who bounced around every home in Los Angeles, that wasn’t easy.
This camera is all I have.
He’s nothing to me. Every time I take his picture and sell it, I remind myself that I did it all without him or his approval, his cinnamon smell or his clear green eyes. He lights up the screen like a celestial body, but he’s nothing but a paycheck to me.
He can throw my camera off a balcony, and nothing has to change. We can stay king and queen of the same city, and different worlds.
Except this is Hollywood, and here, anything can happen.
I don’t need a second chance with him, or a life I thought I had.
While he was out forgetting me to become a movie star, I was building a career out of nothing. A career as a paparazzi, but a career. For a foster kid who bounced around every home in Los Angeles, that wasn’t easy.
This camera is all I have.
He’s nothing to me. Every time I take his picture and sell it, I remind myself that I did it all without him or his approval, his cinnamon smell or his clear green eyes. He lights up the screen like a celestial body, but he’s nothing but a paycheck to me.
He can throw my camera off a balcony, and nothing has to change. We can stay king and queen of the same city, and different worlds.
Except this is Hollywood, and here, anything can happen.
Excerpt #1
I stroked his hair, waist deep in peace, all worry gone for
the moment, and floating in no more than an ocean of gratitude. I must have
been more vulnerable than I realized, or he’d reopened some wound with his
kindness, because though my sweet reverie stayed, as the minutes passed, a
layer of need fitted itself on top of it.
I needed to tell him, if not the details, the outlines of
who I was.
“I want you to know,” I whispered, starting somewhere small,
then everything I didn’t want to say spilled out. “I have stuff. I’ve never
been to jail, but you know, it’s stuff, and it’s ugly, and it scares me.
Because, I mean, you’re so perfect, and I’m… I’m just a mess. I’m not whole.
I’m a bunch of pieces of a person I cobbled together.” My eyes got wet when I
thought of the comparisons between us and that picture in my silverware drawer.
“So if you have to move on when you realize that, I’ll understand. You have an
image, and if anyone understands protecting a career, it’s me. I mean, I’ll be
mad, don’t get that wrong, but also.” I swallowed and blinked, shifting my head
so he wouldn’t feel the tear on his forehead. “I won’t blame you.”
I waited for an answer. Anything. A change in position or a
word on any subject. The weather. Sports. Something. But all he did was breathe.
I smiled so wide, tears fell into my mouth. He was sleeping.
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