A London woman is swept off her feet into the glamorous yet surprisingly dangerous world of an up-and-coming star of stage and screen.
TO CATCH A RISING STAR
Unconventional though she may be, Cassandra Wallace leads the life of an average Londoner, from blind dates to rush hour traffic. Then, along comes Bennett Saville. Charming, erudite, the up-and-coming actor is like the hero of a romantic movie. He sets Cassie afire like he has the stage and screen, and defies the tragedy that brought them together. From the tips of his Armani loafers to their scorching hot first kiss, he’s perfect. Only, he’s ten years younger and from the upper class, and those emerald eyes invite dangerous secrets. The world is full of hungry leading ladies, and every show must have its villain. Yet a true romance will always find its happy ending.
Married once and then separated from her husband, Cassandra is tired of being set up for disappointing dates. She is an independent career woman, who is an unfortunate victim of a terrible accident that almost claims her life. That is when Ian & Bennet enters her life. Ian is a selfless, caring doctor while Bennet is a famous actor who thrives under the limelight. They both love Cassandra, but who will she choose - the quiet but dependable Ian or the famous actor with a bad temper?
At first, Bennet feels that he owes it to Cassandra to make sure that she is fine since his brother put her life in jeopardy. But soon that changes into something else. As he gets to know the girl, he finds it so easy to fall in love with her. But with his past, a sick mother and his life always under the media scrutiny, he has more on his plate than he can handle. Add a crazy stalker to the mix! A stalker who calls him a number of times only to play music in the background and leave him a number of gifts. The stalker also seems to follow him around the world. Will he ever get his life under control again?
The plot is quite interesting with quite a few sub-plots and few of them are quite mysterious. The death of Bennet’s brother and the identity of his stalker are what keep the reader wondering about ‘what really happened’. The book also deals with a life of an actor, a serious illness and the different facets of relationships. My favourite part of the book was really the relationships portrayed. Cassie’s relationship with both Bennet and Ian, Bennet’s relationship with his colleagues/friends and his family – they are all very different from each other. It is these differences that actually complement each other and bring a balance and charm into the book.
Susan Mac Nicol has also managed to develop quite a few interesting characters. Cassandra is a strong character who has a very practical and optimistic outlook on life. Bennet’s past actually makes him another strong character. Ian is the sweet guy whom you will absolutely love. Besides these people who take the center stage in the book, I also liked the characters of Bennet’s father and Bella. And my, the stalker is really a psycho!
I have a few issues about the book though. For me, I felt that the story could have been a bit fast paced than it is. In order to give some time for the relationships to grow, the author has spanned out the events over a period of time. Sometimes the jump from one stage to another - from one chapter to the other seemed rather abrupt, losing the rhythm of the story. Also, I felt as if the climax did not really do justice to the buildup.
Overall, it was quite an experience to read this book and I would recommend this to romance lovers. It is certainly worth one time read.
Excerpt
Chapter
1
The
day the sky fell changed Cassie Wallace’s world forever. She woke up that
morning with the expectation that this day would be like any other. She also
had a slight hangover from the abundance of wine she’d drunk the night before
to try and get through a blind date organized by her work colleague, Sarah.
The
evening had been a total disaster. Not only had the man been an absolute
misogynist, one of the cardinal male sins on Cassie’s unwritten list, he’d also
had a habit of leering at her chest every time he spoke as if he thought it
might talk back to him.
She’d
smiled politely whilst thinking she’d like to take his smarmy public school tie
and shove it down his throat. When she’d finally left at around eleven, she
hadn’t been able to get away fast enough.
She
stood in her bedroom, checking her outfit in the mirror and sighed.
Was
it too much to ask to find a decent man just to share things with and have a
good time? They all seemed to be absolute idiots and in the old but true
cliché, only interested in one thing.
Cassie
had been out on a few dates in the past few months but somehow she never made it
past the first one. A previous date gone wrong had told her she was too
independent and perhaps a little bit ‘emotionally challenged, not affectionate
enough’ for him.
She’d
shrugged this off but it had hurt her deep down especially as she knew it to be
true.
My
bloody expectations aren’t even that high, she thought in exasperation as she
fastened
her necklace.
It’s not as if I’m such a great bloody catch myself! Middle-aged and not really
all that exciting. I’ll take what I can get within reason.
Cassie
smoothed her skirt down over her hips and picked up her handbag.
When
she left the house at six thirty, it was a typical dark English winter morning.
Fortyfive minutes later she was sitting in the traffic on the motorway,
listening to the news bulletin.
“Bloody
idiot,” she mumbled in between bites of a banana that she had hastily grabbed on
her way out. “He wouldn’t know a bloody budget if his life depended on it.
Silly sod has got no idea how to run a bloody country.”
She
crept forward in her Honda Jazz at about two miles an hour, watching the
traffic in front which seemed to have ground to a halt for no reason at all.
I
really need to try and find something closer to home, she
thought, not for the first time. This travelling lark is really starting to piss me
off. Four hours a day in traffic is not my idea of time well spent.
Cassie
wasn’t sure what other quality pastimes she’d be engaging in if she did have
more free time, given her current ‘lack of male’ situation but she supposed
she’d find something. Join a book club perhaps, or find more time to get to the
gym. She might even start writing that novel she’d always planned on doing.
Her
fingers impatiently drummed on the steering wheel in time to a melody on the
radio. In response to another bulletin by the newscaster regarding the level of
binge drinking in the county, she burst into a further diatribe. “For God’s
sake, let the bloody idiots lay where they fall. If they had any brains they
wouldn’t let it get that far so they needed an ambulance to take them to A and
E. It’s my taxpaying money that’s looking after these morons!”
She
glanced at the clock on the display. Seven thirty a.m. She’d be lucky to make
it in on time today.
The
story of my life, she thought resignedly. Slow death by traffic jam.
The
traffic still seemed to show no signs of moving any time soon. She switched off
the engine and took out her Kindle. She may as well catch up on her reading
whilst she had nothing better to do.
Her
concentration span was low as she tried to read. Last night’s ‘date’ kept
replaying itself in random snippets of conversation. Cassie could still hear
Ron’s supercilious comment about women needing to have a man in their lives to
keep them focused on what was important—the man and the provision of all his
needs.
She’d
almost choked on her wine when she’d heard this and only just stopped herself retorting
sarcastically that as a man’s needs were so simple, the only ‘provision’ they
really needed was a soft toy shaped like a pair of boobs to play with and talk
at. As she had very little money in her purse other than her taxi fare home,
she’d stopped herself.
After
the hell she’d been through sitting and listening to Ron’s drivel, the least
she’d make him do was pay for dinner. Cassie had made a decision after last
night. She’d stay home with her own company for the near future, with a bottle
of wine and a couple of decent movies. She’d rather drool over a virtual Mark
Harmon in NCIS than a real life douche bag like the Ronalds of his world. As
for sex—well, that was what vibrators were made for.
It was
nearly ten minutes later before the car in front of her re-started its engine
and she followed suit and sped up to about twenty miles an hour as the queue
took flight. She settled in as it got back up to the more respectable speed of
fifty miles an hour.
As she
drove she glanced idly up at the foot bridges to see the people strolling with
dogs, on bicycles and footing it on their way to work.
At the
bridge just ahead she saw a solitary figure leaning over looking down at the motorway
below. She slowed down a little. Ever since those incidents a few weeks ago
when someone had thrown a concrete bucket off the bridge at a passing car, she
tended to be wary of people standing watching the traffic.
The
figure didn’t appear to have anything in its hands but then she had only caught
a glimpse of it before turning her eyes back to the road. She increased her
speed as the traffic flowed easier.
There
was no warning, just a sudden deafening bang of metal as the windscreen of her car
collapsed inwards. Cassie screamed in terror as glass flew towards her like
wafer thin slivers from a frozen icicle. Her hands left the steering wheel in
panic, her foot pressing down on the accelerator.
The
Honda Jazz went out of control, spinning around like a dirt dervish. Debris
from the windscreen flew like lethal missiles around the interior of the car.
Cassie cried out in pain as she was subject to a vicious assault by anything
lying loose in her vehicle. She tried to cover her face in an instinctive
reflex but her left arm seemed unresponsive. The pain horrifying. She whimpered
as she glanced down and saw the bone shard sticking out.
In her
pain and terror she didn’t notice that the car had stopped spinning. Everything
went quiet. Cassie lay slumped in the driver seat, dazed and unresponsive as
the shock set in She could hear the sounds of people shouting and heard someone
asking her if she was all right.
She
vaguely registered the sound of screeching metal as someone tried to pull the
driver door open. It was as if everything was being done underwater. The sounds
were muted and her brain was sluggish.
The
older man looking in at her from the road was speaking but she couldn’t hear
what he was saying. Cassie looked at him blankly. She couldn’t see clearly, as
if a can of fine red spray-paint had been aimed at her and the nozzle
depressed, coating her eyes. She tried to move her body but the pain in her
right leg was excruciating.
She
watched dully as the man outside starting pulling away metal struts and twisted
the door to get inside to her. She could hear his voice vaguely now, a rough
London Cockney accent as he spoke reassuringly whilst trying to free her.
“All
right, darling? Just stay calm and I’ll try and get to you. The ambulance is on
its way. They’ve told me not to move you so I just want to try get in and keep
you company till they arrive. You look as if you could do with a bit of
company. Just stay with me now. Don’t go anywhere.”
He
smiled at her, trying to keep her reassured. With a final tug at the door, he
made enough of a space to squeeze in slightly and he took her right hand,
avoiding the bad condition of her left arm with its broken bone. Her hand was
freezing and he rubbed it gently.
“There
we go. That should feel better. You just stay calm now and we’ll have you back to
your old man in no time.” He continued holding her hand, talking to her as she
slipped in and out of consciousness.
In one
of her lucid periods she raised an unsteady hand to her face to wipe her eyes.
The fog cleared a little and she was able to focus, then desperately wished she
hadn’t. Lying in front of her, across the bonnet, was a face, pulped and
looking as if dark sticky jam had been smeared all over it.
She
could see the eyes open, looking at her and she could see the mouth forming
words before she screamed and screamed and eventually the fog of blackness
claimed her and the face could be seen no more.
Doctor
Ian Spencer frowned as he read the patient chart in his hand. He glanced at the
patient, an old man in his seventies, matted grey hair curling around his face
like tendrils of an octopus, framing a bucolic face of cherry red, his bulbous
nose caked with fresh snot.
“Up to
your old tricks again, Terry?” the ER doctor asked resignedly. “I thought
perhaps last time we had reached an understanding of sorts?”
The
old man chuckled hoarsely.
“The
drink beckoned again, Doctor, I’ve told you before, cider waits for no man.” He
coughed, his body wracked with spasms. The doctor motioned with a hand to the
waiting nurse who offered Terry a glass of water. He drank it greedily and lay
back in the hospital bed.
Ian
Spencer made a notation in his patient’s chart.
“You
realise this time, Terry, you’ve really outdone yourself? You had what we call
a minor varicose bleed which basically means your insides leaked with blood
because they couldn’t do what they were supposed to do. I managed to stabilise
you and you’ve been in intensive care for two days. Given the state of your
liver you were very lucky not to have it worse. As it is, you’ll need to be
here a few more days before I can release you.”
“I’m
very grateful to you, Doctor.” Terry leered at the nurse who moved out of the
way of his groping left hand. “I can always count on you to put me right.”
“Not
always, Terry, not always.” Ian passed the chart to the nurse and continued on
his way.
He’d
just completed his surgical rounds and was walking down the hospital corridor
when he heard an ambulance arrive and saw the frenetic activity bursting
through the double doors. He heard the ambulance staff calling out their incoming
triage procedures to the attending doctor and watched as a trolley with a woman
covered in blood was wheeled into the waiting operating theatre.
One of
the staff nurses, Judy, a good friend, hurried past him.
“I
don’t believe this one,” she muttered to him. “Some poor woman minding her own
business on the motorway and somebody falls on top of her car. We were lucky no
one else was hurt as well when she spun around or we’d be running out of space
this morning.”
“What
about the man who fell?”
“He’s
dead, poor bugger.” Judy’s voice was terse as she hurried off.
It was
some hours later in passing Ian saw his colleague, fellow trauma surgeon Phil
Moodley, come out of the operating theatre where the woman had been wheeled.
“Phil!”
Ian hurried to catch up with him. “Wait up.”
Phil
turned and proffered a tired smile when he saw Ian.
“Ian,
how are things? I’m just on my way to catch a few minutes doze. It’s been a
long day.”
“How
did things go in there?” Ian motioned to the OR. “I heard she was hit by a man
falling on her car.”
“Yes,
it was very bad. The poor woman has a ruptured spleen, a hairline skull
fracture, a broken femur and radius, and a wealth of lacerations and internal
bruising.” He frowned.
“She
also has a small foreign body embedded in her left temple. It’s in an awkward
place and fairly deep. I’ve recommended not removing it at this time. I’m not
sure it would be prudent. It doesn’t appear itself to be life threatening.
She’ll be in intensive care for some time. I need to keep an eye on her for any
possible embolism. She’ll probably need some physical therapy afterwards if
there are no complications.”
He
squinted at Ian with tired eyes. “You seem interested in this one, Ian? Did you
know anyone involved?”
Ian
shook his head. “I was involved in a similar situation some years ago when I
was at Lakeview Hospital and that one—that one I did know. The person that fell
though, not the victim.”
Phil
nodded his head.
“This
woman was very lucky, the young man was not. He was dead at the scene. His
relatives are on their way.”
Ian
nodded. “Thanks, Phil. You’d best get off and get that sleep, you look all out
of it.”
Phil
patted Ian’s arm and wandered down towards the staff room. Ian wouldn’t tell
Phil the real reason for his interest. It was too personal and no one in the
hospital knew anything about his reason for leaving Lakeview three years ago
and joining Tilhurst Hospital on the outskirts of Essex.
In
2009, his wife Sandra had jumped off a foot bridge straight into the path of a
passing mini-van. To this day he had no idea why. The mini-van driver, a young
man called Freddy Clifford, who had just become a father, had died in the
incident with Sandy. The feelings of guilt for both Sandy’s and the man’s death
(he should’ve known what was going on in his own marriage for God’s sake!) had
never left him.
He’d
left Lakeview and started again where no one knew his history and no one could
feel sympathy for him. He felt he didn’t deserve it. He was sure a psychiatrist
would have some insight to offer on his reaction but he had never engaged with
one, preferring as he did to manage it himself.
Ian
made his way over to the nurses’ station outside intensive care. He saw Nurse
Angie, a bubbly young woman with bleached blonde hair and a Carry
On set
of breasts, sitting behind the desk. She smiled as she saw him approach.
There
were more than a couple of nurses who’d tried to form a relationship with him
but none of them had been successful so far.
“Doctor.
What can I do for you?”
“The
woman that Dr. Patel has just operated on—can you tell me a little bit about
her?
How’s
she doing?”
Angie
consulted her notes.
“Let
me see. Hmm, she’s in a private ICU room, so she must have great insurance.
Room 310. Cassie Wallace, forty-seven years old, divorced. Her sister is coming
in to see her. She’s on her way from Kent.”
She
looked at Ian enquiringly. “Has Dr. Patel asked you to keep an eye on her?”
Ian
shook his head. “No, just curious about how she’s doing. It just seems so
tragic, minding your own business then POW! You find yourself in this
situation. Thanks for the info, Angie.”
Ian
made his way towards Room 310. He couldn’t say why he was so interested in this
woman, only that he felt he had to find out more about her.
He
clothed himself up with a mask and gloves and nodded at the ICU nurses as he
walked through the main ward to the private ones at the back. The hum of
machines and the absolute quiet in the ward was strangely restful. Ian reached
Room 310, opened the door and slipped in.
Cassie
Wallace lay on her back, surrounded by soft light from the equipment. The
constant beep of the life support machines and monitoring equipment comforted
Ian. This unit was dedicated to keeping people alive with the best care the
hospital could provide. Cassie Wallace was in good hands.
Cassie
had her left arm in a splint, her fingers cold and pale like soft, limp white
gloves. Her right leg with its broken femur rested on the bed covers. Ian
guessed she had pins and rods inside keeping it together.
Her
face was battered and bruised from the accident. He could see the rise and fall
of her chest as she breathed. Her pale strawberry blonde hair was spread across
the pillow like soft gold straw, with a large bald patch on the left side where
Dr Patel had shaved her skull.
Even
through the cuts and bruises, Ian could see she was a very attractive woman.
Not just pretty or beautiful, but with a look of her own that even under
current circumstances made her look younger than her forty-seven years. She
reminded him very much of a curvier Michelle Pfeiffer. A noise at the door made
him turn. Judy stood there, looking surprised to see him.
“Ian?
What are you doing in here?” she whispered.
“I was
just checking up on her. I know I’m not her doctor but I really wanted to see
how she was doing.”
“It’s
all right, Ian.” Judy patted him on the arm. “She can do with all the help she
can get. I need to check her vital signs now. Do you want to stick around?”
“No
Judes, I’ll let you get on with your job. Thanks.” Ian left the nurse with her
patient and made his way back towards the main reception.
About the Author
Sue Mac Nicol was born in Headingley, Leeds, in the United Kingdom. When she was eight years old her family emigrated to Johannesburg, South Africa. One day, after yet another horrific story of violence to friends, they decided it was time to leave. In December 2000 they found themselves in the Arrivals area at Heathrow and have stayed in the UK ever since, loving every minute of it.
In between her day job as a regulatory compliance officer for a financial services company in Cambridge and normal daily life, the inspiration for the Starlight series was born; Sue’s characters, Cassie and Bennett, finally made their debut onto the flickering screen of a laptop and gave her the opportunity to become a published author—a dream she’s had since being a young girl old enough to hold a pencil.
Sue is a member of the Romance Writers of America and the Romantic Novelists Association in the UK. She lives in a town house in the rural village of Bocking, Essex, with her husband of twenty eight years, Gary (who believes he deserves a long service award for putting up with her for so long), two children, Jason, 24, and Ashley, 19, and a mixed collie mongrel called Blu.
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ReplyDeleteGood review - I'm also part of IO Tours and had to click on your link because of the 1337 in it haha
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