Hollywood Stardust Supporting Roles - Wilson and Giselle Read online

  Hollywood Stardust

  Supporting Roles

  Giselle & Wilson

  By

  Kim Carmichael

  Copyright

  © 2015 Kim Carmichael

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13: 978-0692528211

  ISBN-10: 0692528210

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission of the publisher of this book.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of this author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Published by Rebel Romance, an imprint of Irksome Rebel Press

  Typecast Excerpt published with permission from Kindle Press

  Limelight Excerpt copyright 2015 Kim Carmichael

  On the Dotted Line Excerpt copyright 2015 Kim Carmichael

  New Moon on Monday Excerpt copyright 2015 Kim Carmichael

  Contents

  Hollywood Stardust

  Copyright

  Contents

  About this Book

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Dear Reader,

  Acknowledgements

  Sneak Peaks!

  Typecast –

  A Hollywood Stardust Novel

  An Excerpt

  Limelight

  A Hollywood Stardust Novel

  An Excerpt

  On The Dotted Line

  A Heart Lines Novel

  An Excerpt

  COME UNDONE: Romance Stories Inspired by Duran Duran

  New Moon on Monday

  An Excerpt

  About the Author

  About this Book

  Some girls only want to have fun.

  Giselle Abromowitz lives her life with two simple rules. 1. Have fun. 2. Defer to rule number one. She does what she wants when she wants, and when things get too complicated she moves on to happier, more casual pastures.

  As the older brother to Hollywood star, Logan Alexander, Wilson Alexander has played the role of pacifier, parent and protector. With the opening of his club it is his time to step in to the spotlight and make his own life.

  When Giselle stumbles into Wilson’s regimented life and takes over, Wilson knows he found the missing piece of his life, now he only needs to convince his lady love that fun and love can coexist.

  Dedication

  To those who can be themselves and be different and have fun.

  Chapter One

  “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” Ivy Vermont pressed her back to the building and put her hand over her eyes.

  Giselle Abromowitz wrinkled her nose. Apparently, her best friend needed a recap of their last several hours, even though they’d been together the entire day. “We’re stalking Logan Alexander, the actor you’ve loved since you were twelve and the guy you’re supposed to be working with, but ditched you. Now we’re standing outside his brother’s bar.” She shielded her eyes as she looked up at the sign. “It’s not open though, and I could use a drink.”

  Ivy groaned. “I meant what are you doing here with me stalking actors when you are supposed to be at work?”

  Rather than answer, Giselle tiptoed over to one of the windows and attempted to peer inside.

  “Giselle. What happened to your job?” Ivy joined her and stood on her tiptoes to look in the blackened windows. “This was supposed to be the one.”

  With Ivy in her full quirky vintage business regalia, Giselle resisted the urge to lift her fun sized friend. “I don’t think I want to be an assistant.”

  “You said you wanted to work in an office.” Ivy pressed her forehead to the glass.

  “It has too much paper, my hands got dry from touching all of it, and I got a paper cut.” She held out her hands and studied them and swore she still saw the faint remnant of the cut. “Look.”

  “Offices have paper.” Ivy shook her head.

  “Not if they’re green.” One day she would best her best friend in the battle of wits.

  Ivy huffed.

  “Why don’t we take care of your job and stop worrying about mine.” Giselle stomped over to the front door and knocked.

  Ivy rushed over and grabbed her arm. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting you in the door, that’s the job I’m best at.” Ever since her best friend took on the assignment of reporting on the anniversary of her favorite movie, Hollywood Stardust, she had been unlivable. Once Ivy’s crush, Logan Alexander entered the picture and became her co-reporter, she went from unlivable to not fun. Now it had to be fixed. Giselle struck a pose, boobs out, butt popped, hand on hip and waited. The pose hadn’t failed her yet.

  Finally, the door opened. At the sight of the man, hot man, really hot man, before her, Giselle added at little lip pout to her guy wrangling stance.

  In less than an instant, a smile took over the man’s face. “Please tell me you’re the delivery I’m waiting for.”

  She stepped forward and leaned on the doorjamb. “I’m the delivery you’re waiting for.”

  The man raised his eyebrows, making his already friendly and fluid features even more likable. He reminded her of the guy in a movie who stood in the background, but every time the camera panned over to him one kept thinking how cute he was, how his blue eyes would steal the show and his smile could make the lead in the movie do almost anything.

  “So you’re the person delivering the glass washer and hooking it up to the existing plumbing?” He tilted his head.

  “Do I not look like a plumber?” She turned back to Ivy and nodded, she had this guy, but good.

  Ivy put her hand over her eyes.

  “Well, considering the person on the way is named Harvey, and last time I saw him he was about quadruple your size and with a lot less hair, I’m going to go with no.” As if waiting for her to confess her deception, he crossed his arms.

  “All right, you caught me.” She played along and pressed her hand to her chest. “Actually, I’m here on behalf of my poor friend, Ivy. I have reason to believe one Mr. Logan Alexander may be inside, and she needs him desperately.”

  The man raised his eyebrows.

  “And by desperate, I mean her work is relying on him, although the poster she had of him on her ceiling when she was thirteen, so she could go to bed looking at him, may speak of a different kind of desperation.” Giselle thought she should lay it all on the table.

  The man glanced between the two of them. “So, you’re Ivy. I’m not surprised that you’re here.” He opened the door and stepped back.

  Ivy looked up at the man.

  “Come on, I got you in.” Giselle motioned for her best friend and trotted inside. The whole place smelled like remodeling, and she smiled at the way the interior was done up to look like a 1920s speakeasy with art deco finishes and dark booths. There was no place in Hollywood like it. “This is cool.”

  Gazing up at the man with a slight bit of hope, Ivy followed. “Is he here?”

  “I think I may be able to conjure him. Stay right here and check the place out.” He put his hand out and leaned forward. “I’m Wilson by the way, Wilson Alexander.”

  “Alexander. As in Logan Alexander.” Ra
ther than shake his hand, Giselle hooked her arms in his.

  Ivy took his hand. “I really do need to talk to him for even a second.”

  “Well, as fun as this all is, I will retrieve my baby brother for you.” He glanced down at Giselle, took his time untangling their appendages, and with one last glance in her direction, left and disappeared behind a swinging door. “Logan!”

  “See? I told you it would all work out.” Giselle put her arm around her friend.

  “I wish I could live my life like you do.” Ivy patted her and moved away, pacing around the space.

  “What do you mean?” Giselle shrugged and took a seat on one of the bar stools. No doubt, the savvy Mr. Alexander chose these to show off a woman’s gams. She wondered if she stayed in this position if he would notice.

  “You just always go with it. You don’t have a job, no worries, you don’t know what you’re doing tomorrow, not a problem.” Ivy put her hand on her stomach. “I can’t let go like you do. What’s taking them so long?”

  “Well, you have to go with it, what other choice do we have?” She continued to assess her legs.

  Before Ivy got a chance to say something deep or meaningful, a knock at the front door interrupted them.

  They both looked at the door and then back in the direction Wilson took.

  The knock came again, but louder.

  “What should we do?” Ivy bit her lip.

  “Well, when people knock, the normal course of action is to open it.” Though she didn’t want to ruin how awesome her legs looked from the bar stool, she slid down and opened the door, only to be greeted by a huge man with not much hair holding a wrench. “Harvey! We’ve been waiting for you. Come on in.”

  The man smiled and trundled inside. “Is Wilson here?”

  “Wait! You can’t just let anyone in here. Hold on.” Ivy rushed to the back. “Wilson!”

  With a shrug, Giselle stood to the side to let Harvey enter. “So, you’re here to do some installation?”

  “Putting in the new glass washer and adjusting some things on the plumbing on the bar.” Almost as if he wanted to prove his identity, he held up a toolbox and a plumber’s wrench.

  “Well, time is money, get to it.” She pointed over to the bar.

  Harvey grabbed his toolbox and hobbled over to the bar. “And you are?”

  With it sort of dark, she grabbed a flashlight from his toolbox, propped herself back up on the stool and aimed it where Harvey was beginning his work. “Giselle, of course.”

  Wilson reappeared. “Well, Miss Giselle of course, I’d like to know what you think you’re doing here?”

  “My last name is Abromowitz.” She crossed her legs.

  “Thank you, but that didn’t answer my question.” He approached, giving her a good look at his form, a bit more muscular than his younger brother, and it was that bit she liked. “What are you doing here?”

  She had now been asked this question multiple times and all in the name of trying to help. If everyone kept asking, it was apparent she needed to be somewhere else. She put the flashlight down and jumped off the stool. “Right now I’m leaving.”

  * * * *

  DAMN.

  The last thing Wilson wanted was for Giselle “of course” Abromowitz to leave. In fact, he had been trying to make her stay. He never did have the savvy swagger his younger brother had when getting the girls.

  “I’m going to go get Ivy.” She stomped toward the kitchen door.

  Allowing a curvy blonde of her nature to storm away would literally be doing a disservice to his bar before it even opened. Of course, if he followed proper protocol, there wouldn’t be a guest here before he actually opened the doors. For once, he had to screw the protocol and he charged forward. “Stop!”

  In a move he didn’t anticipate, she skidded to a halt and raised her hands. “What is it?” Her voice came out more of a screech. “Is there a bug on me?”

  Well, he may have lost one opportunity, but another was handed to him on a blonde platter with long legs.

  “Hold on, I thought I saw something.” As he went to her, he glanced back at Harvey. The man simply shook his head.

  “Please get it off, please.” She didn’t move a muscle.

  Fine, he admitted to himself at first he was going to cop a feel. Talk about breaking the rules, but why shouldn’t he? She had been the one sitting on the stool with her legs crossed, hiking up her skirt. All he could picture were those legs around him. He stopped behind her and reached out.

  “Oh.” She shuddered. “Please get it.”

  Damn a second time. He couldn’t do it, not like this. Instead, he bent down and brushed the back of her calf. “There. You’re fine, I think it was just a string.” He did note he took the time to notice her smooth shaven leg.

  “Oh, thank you.” She spun around and flung her arms around his neck.

  When a gorgeous blonde gave a hug, it would be a sin of the worst kind not to return the gesture, and he wrapped his arms around her.

  “I just love a man who will save me from bugs.” She kept hold of him, but pulled back to look him in the face.

  “Well, consider me at your service.” The woman was quite striking with her long blonde hair, perfect features and big eyes. She was the kind of woman other women hated just at the sight of her, and the kind of woman all men wanted.

  “Well, what else do you do?” Still, she held on and now she raised her eyebrows.

  “I know how to make a mean martini.” For once, he had a comeback.

  Before she got the chance to answer, Ivy interrupted him. Just his luck.

  “What’s up?” Ivy furrowed her brow and approached her friend.

  As if they belonged together, Giselle kept hold of him. “Wilson got a bug or a string off me, and he’s going to make me a mean martini.” She turned to him. “But something tells me that will make me happy.”

  Without a doubt, Wilson knew her having a drink with him would make him happy.

  “Is there any way you can be happy and drive my car back later? Logan and I are going to get to work.” Ivy held her keys up.

  “Well, if I get too happy I may be sleeping on the bar, but sure.” Giselle swiped Ivy’s keys away. “See? Everything’s fine, it had no other choice.”

  “Well, the results remain to be seen, but I better get going.” Ivy gave her a quick hug, waved to him and darted back to the kitchen.

  “It’s like my parents left me in the house alone. Let’s check out the bar.” She slipped away from him and skipped back over to her stool. “I’m ready for my mean martini.”

  Though he never envisioned making his first official drink in this non-official capacity, there was no way he would refuse the leggy blonde. “I don’t want to keep you waiting.” Finally, he said something that smacked a little of flirting and he made his way behind the bar.

  She leaned way over, giving him a perfect eyeful of her cleavage.

  “Do you want it dirty?” He put the ingredients in the shaker and got out a glass.

  “Always.” She licked her lips and stared him in the eye.

  Holy Mother of God. Somehow he managed to add in the bit of olive juice without spilling, shook the drink and pour his concoction into the glass. He topped the whole thing off with two olives, put a napkin in front of her and presented her with his elixir.

  “Aren’t you going to join me?” She ran her finger along the rim of the glass.

  “I don’t really drink.” Her beauty and carefree attitude entranced him and he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  “Really? Then why own a bar?” Eyes wide, she picked up the toothpick with the two olives and used her teeth to slide one into her mouth.

  “I’ve worked in many bars and understand the operation.” Thank the heavens he was standing behind the bar, the erection growing in his pants would be noticeable from every other angle. “Also, you know no matter what the economy, a bar can survive. People want to feel good and get a drink, and a nice place with re
asonable prices that develops a following is a good foundation. The timing is perfect with my brother as well.” The twentieth anniversary of Logan’s movie could only help the bar.

  “Everyone wants to be associated with a celebrity. Though I have to say I never associated a bar with stability.” She swirled the second olive in the alcohol and held it to his lips. “I have to say I like that way of thinking.”

  Without a second thought he took the offering, plucking the little treat off the toothpick using his teeth. The briny tartness filled his mouth. “I must appreciate a woman who will share her olive.”

  Staring right into his eyes, she lifted the martini glass and took a sip. “I must appreciate a man who can make a mean martini.”

  “Is it mean enough?” He leaned against the bar.

  “If it gets any worse, I may have to spank it.” After a low laugh and another sip, she lifted the glass to him. “But since you’re the father of this little baby, you tell me.”

  Wondering if he should break his rule, he paused.

  “Let loose, it will do you good,” she whispered. “Let’s have some fun.”

  His resolve all but gone, especially when it came to the blonde with the big blue eyes, he tasted his own concoction. Spot on. He nodded.

  “So, tell me more about you, Mr. Alexander, and I don’t want to hear anything about Logan, I want to hear about you.” Once more, she took a taste of the drink and then fed him.

  Never, and he meant not ever, had a woman not asked him about Logan. Even if they didn’t actually say the words, the question lingered right beneath the surface. He opened his mouth to speak, but then realized the tidbit he was going to impart about himself dealt with Logan, and so did the second thing. In fact, once their mother passed, and he had to make sure that Logan got to do his movie, every thought came attached to Logan in some way.

  “Take another drink. I’m sure you can conjure a memory or two.” She gave him the last of her beverage.

  As he created another dirty martini, his mind went into overdrive and something materialized. “Well, if I tell you that I’ve had a job since I was twelve and I have always been gainfully employed, does that count?”