Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Oliver Hart
A well-known, leading Hollywood heartthrob is suddenly on the downslide.
Gossip and whispers of trouble follow him these days.
His latest project is yanked away, and a new role is offered to him.
One that sends him back home to the small town of Richton.
To the location of his greatest regret.
To where she is.
Kassie Brennan
The girl he once loved.
The one he left behind.
How will she react when she discovers he’s there?
Closer than either one of them realized?
Can the past stay in the past?
Or will their hearts decide their future?
Author’s Note: Get ready to fall all over again — for the Hollywood heartbreaker who never forgot the girl he left behind, and the woman still guarding the heart he once held. Small town. Big feelings. Second chances don't come easy — but some loves were always meant to find their way home
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
OLIVER
Istopped at the top of the stairs, taking a deep breath for courage before walking into my agent’s office.
Annie Stillwell was etched in faded lettering on the upper glass of the door. I knew without a doubt she was inside, waiting at her desk, impatient and growing more so every minute that passed while I chose to hang out in the hallway.
If I were brave enough, I would run.
But she’d find me.
I plastered a smile on my face and walked in, her assistant, Carmen looking up from her computer. The inside of the office looked like a set from a 1950s movie. An old wooden coffee table, piled high with out-of-date magazines, sat in the middle of a grouping of lumpy chairs where hopefuls would wait to see if Annie would accept them as a client and help launch their careers. Worn wallpaper, holding years of smoke and witness to many tears, disappointments, and deals. It never changed and was in total contrast to the sleek desk and computers where Carmen sat on the other side of the room. Behind her, file cabinets stuffed with contracts, scripts, proposals, and God only knew what else, burst the seams, some of the drawers barely shutting, while others were open, their chaotic contents visible.
I met Carmen’s eyes. “Hey, beautiful.”
“Stow it, pretty boy. You’re late, and she’s already in a mood.”
“It’s barely past seven in the morning,” I protested. “Why the hell I had to be here so early is beyond me.”
She shook her head. “So clueless.”
“I could come back at another time,” I offered. “Meet her for lunch at her club, maybe.”
Martinis usually put Annie in a better mood.
“Nope.” Carmen popped the word decisively. “She’s waiting. Get in there.”
I sighed and headed toward a heavy wooden door. Annie had had it installed specially—plus had the office soundproofed. She liked her privacy when doing a deal or ripping her talent a new one.
I had a feeling today’s meeting was the latter.
I knocked and waited for the usual “In!” growled in her signature pit bull voice.
I stepped in, shutting the door behind me.
“You called and requested my presence?” I quipped, hoping to keep things light.
Annie glanced up, observing me over her thick tortoiseshell glasses. I had no idea exactly how old she was. Late sixties, I assumed from her history. Gossipers insisted she was much older. Some whispered the words “ancient” and “deal with Satan” that kept her alive and thriving. If that was the case, Satan was no doubt exhausted having to handle her. I’d given up trying to find out. When it came to her private life, she was a vault.
Her dark eyes were shrewd and sharp. They regarded me as if seeing a bug she wanted to squash under her no-nonsense pumps. Her stares were legendary. Rumors were she often made Hollywood execs cry with her silent glares. God knew how many wannabes left here in tears.
She refused to comment.
Her silver hair was pulled back in her usual thick knot on the top of her head. I had never seen it in any other fashion. Nor, I believed, had another living person. Her makeup was minimal, except her lips, which were scarlet red—another signature for her. She had a surprisingly sexy mouth, with full, pouty lips that rarely smiled and belied the words that often spilled from them.
There was nothing soft about those.
And hanging from the right side of her mouth was a cigarette holder. No actual cigarette since she’d given them up, but only the holder. It was always there. I found it impressive that she could talk, eat, and drink without removing it. I’d tried to imitate her actions for a role once and failed miserably. Food fell out. Liquid spewed forth. My voice sounded as if I had a speech impediment.
But it was part of her, and her favorite trick was inhaling her vape and letting the mist out through the cigarette holder, swirling around her head as she glared at you.
Or, currently, me.
“Finally showed up,” she huffed.
“It’s barely dawn.”
“In your little world. I’ve been at this since five.”
I sat down, waiting.
She studied me, inhaling another lungful of her e-cig. I’d warned her again and again they were as bad for her as cigarettes, but she refused to listen. And once Annie made up her mind, there was no changing it.
“What the fuck is going on with you, Oliver?”
I cleared my throat, but she carried on. She stood, rounding the desk and leaning on the old wooden edge, worn from years of being a prop.
“My golden boy, suddenly gone rogue.”
I scoffed. “Hardly.”
She held up her hand. “Two flops. Arthouse films I told you not to work on.”
“I wanted to do something different,” I argued. “And I believed in them. I had no idea what was going to happen.”
She shook her head. “You are a rom-com leading man. That is what you do, and you do it well.” She paused, the cigarette holder vibrating in irritation. “Or you used to.”