Her Confessional: The Making of a Star by Rebecca Norinne Caudill

TourHerConfessional Tour Banner Her Confessional: The Making of a Star by Rebecca Norinne Caudill Confessional #1 Publication Date: April 9, 2015 Genres: Contemporary, Romance, Serial

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Synopsis: ** 18,000 word novella, part one of an ongoing series ** Her Confessional is a sexy new romance series told from the point of view of Sarah Travers, a smart, happy, plus-size heroine who explores - through a series of written confessions - what happens when the best friend she's secretly in love with becomes the world's most famous actor overnight. Hi, I’m Sarah, a plus-size 33-year-old single woman with an amazing job as a personal assistant to a major Hollywood director. My best friend? His name is Cameron. Here’s a secret for you, something I’ve never told anyone else before: I’m in love with him. Truly, madly, deeply. I know. Bad idea, right? But that’s not even the worst of it. My biggest problem? I’m not the only one. You see, Cameron just landed the role of a lifetime and now millions of other women fancy themselves in love with him too. But this isn’t their story; it’s mine. My confessional. The Making of a Star is the first installment in the series.
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About the Rebecca Norinne Caudill

Rebecca Norinne Caudill
Rebecca Caudill read her first novel when she was just four years old and has been hooked on books ever since. When she wasn't writing her own stories, she was sneaking copies of her mom's romance paperbacks to read late into the night. After graduating from the University of Pittsburgh with a degree in Journalism, she embarked on a career in technology public relations representing some of the world’s hottest start-ups and publicly traded companies. After twelve years in the business, with the unwavering support of her husband, she quit her job to pursue writing full time. Rebecca lives in Oakland, California, with her husband and cat. When not creating fictional worlds inhabited by strong women, and dashing heroes, she is planning her next vacation, trying out new recipes, or drinking Islay scotch.

EXCERPTS from Her Confessional: The Making of a Star by Rebecca Norinne Caudill

I told myself that I wasn’t going to do it, that I wasn’t going to let it happen, but sometimes despite your very best intentions you can’t really control who you fall in love with. Oh, you can fight it as best you can and hope that you’re strong enough to deny yourself because you know deep down in the pit of your stomach that it’s a really bad idea to go down that path.
But sometimes you meet someone that you just can’t stay away from, someone who makes you feel something unlike anything that you’ve ever felt before ... you feel it to the very marrow of your bones ... and you're doomed.
Lord knows I tried to stay away.
No really, I tried.
I swear.
He’d walk into a room and I’d walk out of it. He’d innocently put his hand on my shoulder and I’d move out from under his touch. I was never rude about it, and at first I don’t even think he noticed when he was touching me, or maybe he did and that’s just what he wanted me to think. Because I didn’t want to admit what was happening I convinced myself that he wasn’t singling me out, that I wasn’t somehow any more special than anyone else.
“He touches everyone like that,” I’d say to myself. Or, “He’s just that sort of guy. He’s friendly, tactile,” as I walked away from an encounter that had inadvertently left me feeling warm and breathless.
I tried to rationalize it any way that I could because I didn’t want to admit what was really happening.
Up until my relationship with Cameron I’d never had a male friend before so it’s not like I knew what to expect. I’m friendly enough with plenty of guys – in fact, you could probably say that I’m more “one of the guys” than one of the gals, but before him I’d never had anything resembling a deep, meaningful friendship with a man, and just that alone was enough to throw me for a loop.
It was the other stuff – the heady stuff – that knocked me upside my head.

But I hadn’t quite anticipated how our relationship would eventually play out. Back then I thought for certain it’d be a one sided thing where I’d drool over him from afar while he went about his life none the wiser because it’s a simple fact that guys like Cameron simply don’t fall in love with girls like me.
Before you start to worry, let me assure you that this isn’t some sad tale of woe where I wax poetic about how bad my life is.
The truth of it is that aside from the fact that I’m what you’d call chubby – plus size if I’m being honest – I lead a very good life.
An incredibly fulfilled life.
I don’t have a problem with the way I look but in Hollywood chubby is pretty much a bad word.
Things are just now starting to change for the better, but girls like me still have a long way to go before we’re truly accepted in La-La Land. Sure there are a handful of models who have taken fashion by storm in recent years and thank the world a thousand times over for the glamorously curvy Christina Hendricks, but until Jennifer Aniston can eat a couple of burritos and speculation not run rampant that she’s pregnant because god forbid she has A Bump, we still have a long way to go.
Would things be easier for me if I were tall and chubby? Hell yeah! I might even try to get in on the plus-size model game myself. But I’m not, so I won’t. Instead representation of girls like me is limited that of a supporting role – the best friend, the funny bridesmaid, or one of the boys. Or, and this is The Absolute Worst – we’re sometimes told that we’re pretty … for a chubby girl. As if the two are somehow mutually exclusive. Can’t be fat and pretty. Nosiree.
You know exactly what I’m talking about. Don’t try to deny it.
It’s okay though. Like I said, I’m happy with who I am. I have beautiful long red hair, bright green eyes, and perfect alabaster skin. Actresses pay dermatologists thousands of dollars a year to get skin like mine while I only use drug store brands like Oil of Olay and Neutrogena. So what if I’m a size 16 and a smidge under five and a half feet tall? If it doesn’t bother me, it shouldn’t bother you either.

And he’s gorgeous. Have I mentioned how gorgeous? He’s so hot that sometimes his looks are the reason that he doesn’t get a part. Some directors have passed on casting him because they didn’t think he’d be capable of dirtying himself up for a role or that he was just too pretty to play the part.
Picture it. Six-five, every inch of him honed to physical perfection, not an ounce of fat on his body. He’s all lean muscle, like you see on swimmers in the Olympics. His shoulders and washboard abs could make girls swoon. Actually, they have. His body on its own would be enough to catapult him far ahead of even the most famous Hollywood actor, but that’s not where his perfection ends.
I don’t usually go for blonde guys, but on him it works. His hair is like spun wheat or corn silk – perfect really for a Midwest boy – and it has a slight natural wave that gives it a just bit of volume to keep it from laying flat against his head.
And his eyes? Well, when he looks at you … that piercing blue feels like it’s drilling down deep into your soul and analyzing all that you are, all that you want to be.
His voice? When he talks to you it’s like you’re the only person in the room, but you find that you’re having a hard time paying attention because you’re distracted by chiseled cheekbones that could cut glass. How I envy those damn cheekbones.
And his smile? Well, that’s probably the best part. He’s just happy and it shows in the play of full, rose-colored lips as they slash across his face in perpetually cheerful amusement.
So yeah, I’d see Cameron around town, at casting calls, and then in callbacks and he was always unfailingly polite, effortlessly sweet to everyone that he met. He treated us all with respect regardless of we were in the pecking order – the girl who brought him a glass of water seemed just as important to him as the director that he was hoping to impress.
I guess you could say that he was untouched by the cynicism of Hollywood, and that was what first caught my attention. Well, outside of his looks I mean. He was gorgeous and he was charming and every time I saw him I’d walk away smiling. He just made you feel good, you know?

Sometime in the five o’clock hour, exhausted but still giddy with drink, I caught him staring at me with a weird look on his face. We had stopped talking about this audition a few minutes before so I was surprised when he sat down next to me on the couch all serious like and put his hands on either side of my face. He said my name and I immediately recognized the change in his voice, in his mannerisms. I could barely breathe. I was frozen in place, awareness dawning that this was probably the most intimately he’d ever touched me.  
I remember thinking, in the hazy way that only the very drunk do, that I needed to pay attention, to focus on what he was saying, what he was doing. As I stared back at him, I was silently willing him to kiss me the way I’d long imagined him doing so. When I realized that he was gazing back at me with that hungry look that a man gets when he’s contemplating a woman that he wants with all of his soul, I sobered right up.
I can’t tell you how long we stayed like that, staring at one another while he held my face so tenderly in his hands. I’m sure it was only a handful of seconds but at the moment it felt like hours passed as I prayed for him to do something to break the tension that had built between us.
When he started caressing my cheek with the pad of his thumb I almost sobbed out loud, the feel of his skin on mine an extraordinary sensation, one that I had wanted more than anything for so, so long.
Oh, it’s not like we’d never touched before then. We had, of course.
But we’d never touched like that.
He’d never looked at me before the way he was looking at me then.
I don’t know what came over me. I think it had to be the fire in his gaze. I’d seen that look before from other men but it had never effected me the way it had, from him, at that moment. I wanted Cameron to the depths of my soul – I wanted him in me – and I wasn’t going to let the moment pass. I could tell that he wanted me too but I think he was too much of a gentleman to make a move lest it seem like he was taking advantage of me when I’d been drinking.
I made my decision.
In the split second before I could change my mind I leaned forward and kissed him ever so gently, just a slight touching of my lips to his. When at first he didn’t respond I started to pull away but then something must have ignited within him because the next thing I knew he was leaning in and he was kissing me back, only he wasn’t being quite so gentlemanly about it. I felt like he was consuming me, kissing me like a dying man whose only chance at life was to be found in my lips and I reveled in it. 
My God, how I reveled in it.

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