SEEING STARS

Copyright © 2014 by J. Sterling

All Rights Reserved

Editing and Interior Formatting/Design by:

Pam Berehulke

www.BulletproofEditing.com

Cover Design by:

Michelle Preast

www.MichellePreast.com

Kindle Edition, License Notes

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return online and purchase your own copy. Please do not participate or encourage the piracy of copyrighted materials. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

ISBN-13: 978-1494467470

ISBN-10: 149446747X

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Table of Contents

Dedication

Unexpected

Spotlight

Stalker

Blackmail

Bread

Paparazzi

Reality

Integrity

Memories

Love

Girlfriend

Completion

Epilogue

Thank You

Coming Soon

About the Author

Also By J. Sterling

Dedication

This book is dedicated to anyone who ever had a crush on a celebrity and wished that they would crush on you right back! :)

I walked through the front door, no sooner slamming it behind me before my roommate launched into a ridiculous display of begging and pleading. Not even ten steps into our Toluca Lake condo and Keri was on her knees, begging me to go out with her that night. I narrowed my eyes, staring down at her theatrics on the floor.

“But I got you a ticket and everything,” she whined, batting her eyelashes up at me, as if that would work on someone as estrogen-driven as herself. “Please. It’s the last show of the tour.”

“I just got home and I have to work tomorrow,” I told her, knowing full well my excuse wouldn’t work. Keri was nothing if not persistent.

“So what? We all have to work tomorrow. And hello, it’s Walker Rhodes. I know you like his music, so don’t even pretend like you don’t.” When I opened my mouth to respond, she pushed harder. “And the seats are in the third row, Madison. On the floor. Sort of like I am right now.” She winced and pushed herself to stand upright in all her perfect five-foot-ten-inch glory.

Keri had good reason to expect her pleas to work; she knew me so well. She and I had bonded instantly as freshmen in college when we were assigned rooms across the hall from each other. When we graduated, we went out in the world to tackle the entertainment industry together, and had been roomies and best friends ever since.

My pulse picked up with her words third row as I thought of how incredible every concert I’d seen from that close had been. It was one thing to be at a show in the nosebleed section, but it was almost an out-of-body experience to sit up front. Entertainers couldn’t hide anything from you when you were feet away from them; you picked up the smallest details that would otherwise be missed if you were sitting anywhere else. Like the way the beads of sweat formed on their forehead first before rapidly sliding down their faces, or whether or not they were really singing versus lip-synching. You saw if their shoe came untied or if they missed a step in their perfectly choreographed routine. And don’t get me started on the eye contact. Being that close to the stage gave you access to their line of vision…and you were in it.

Keri was right; I did like Walker Rhodes’s music. And his face wasn’t too bad either. But his reputation was a total turnoff. Not like I was planning on dating the guy, but you couldn’t really think about him without having his man-whoring ways come to mind. He was in the tabloids almost daily, stumbling out of a Las Vegas club or casino with a girl on each arm, getting into fights, and spending way too much time and money there. Don’t get me wrong, Vegas was all right, but anyone who loved that smoke- and debauchery-filled place as much as Walker Rhodes seemed to couldn’t be good news. He was the epitome of a bad boy.

Not to mention the fact that the things I’d heard about him from some of our clients at work only further endorsed his less-than-angelic behavior. I imagined his publicist had their hands full, following behind him and cleaning up his PR messes.

“Madison, you can’t make me go to this concert alone. I’ll never forgive you.” Keri’s fake whine broke through my thoughts.

Focusing once again on her pleading expression, I laughed. “Yes, you will. And you knew damn well I’d say yes before I even walked through the door.”

Her face brightened. “Actually, I just hoped you’d get home before the concert started. I never know with your hours. I was half afraid I’d have to pick you up at the office and head straight to the concert from there.”

She was referring to my job at the agency. I was an assistant to one of the hottest talent agents in Hollywood, so my hours were unconventional and unpredictable, to say the least. Keri wasn’t wrong to be concerned about my timing; not that her hours at the studio were any better.

I sucked in a quick breath. “I can’t say no to you.”

She squealed as she gripped my shoulders with her hands. “Go get ready. The car will be here in twenty minutes.”

“What car?” I asked over my shoulder as I headed away from her and down the hallway of our three-bedroom apartment.

“I didn’t want to drive, so I ordered a Town Car.” When I shot her a knowing glance and a smirk, she admitted, “Fine, my dad’s assistant ordered it, but what does it matter? That way we can drink at the show if we want to. I’m just being responsible!”

“You’re wasteful with money,” I said, laughing as I rushed into my room to change.

“You’re wasteful with…life!” she shouted back.

I rifled through my closet and pulled out a fitted black tank top that accentuated my curves in all the right places. Then I reached for my favorite worn-in skinny jeans and slipped them on. After adding my most comfortable pair of knee-high boots, ones I knew wouldn’t kill my feet after standing all night in them, my outfit for the night was complete.

I hurried into the bathroom and plugged in my heating wand, then went to work curling fat waves into my normally stick-straight blonde hair. Realizing I didn’t have much time, I did a quick once-over on my face with fresh makeup. I dipped an oversized sable brush into my powder foundation before tapping it against the side of the container. Spreading a light coat over my already made-up face, I smiled at my reflection. A light dusting of gold eye shadow on my lids and some eyeliner made my brown eyes pop, followed by a fresh coat of glossy pink lipstick, and my day-to-night transformation was complete.