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Hollywood Princess

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by Dana Aynn Levin




  Hollywood

  Princess

  Dana Aynn Levin

  Park-Hill Press

  Hollywood Princess

  No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, down loaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without express permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

  Hollywood Princess is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or any events or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

  Cover design by Sarah Jordan Levin

  Copyright © 2014 Dana Aynn Levin

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 990737004

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9907370-0-1

  DEDICATION

  To Paul, for not only never laughing at me,

  But for supporting my dream,

  Supplying me with yellow pads and Disney pens,

  And allowing me to retreat to my cave.

  .

  CONTENTS

  Dedication

  Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  Chapter 79

  Chapter 80

  Chapter 81

  Chapter 82

  Chapter 83

  Chapter 84

  Chapter 85

  Chapter 86

  Chapter 87

  Chapter 88

  Chapter 89

  Chapter 90

  Chapter 91

  Chapter 92

  Chapter 93

  Chapter 94

  Chapter 95

  Chapter 96

  Chapter 97

  Chapter 98

  Chapter 99

  Chapter 100

  Chapter 101

  Chapter 102

  Chapter 103

  Chapter 104

  Chapter 105

  Chapter 106

  Chapter 107

  Chapter 108

  Chapter 109

  Chapter 110

  Chapter 111

  Chapter 112

  About The Author

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Writing a novel was never my aspiration, but then Elizabeth and Daniel’s story came to me, and it wouldn’t stop. Everywhere I went, I composed new material. At home I spent countless hours writing, inputting, and editing.

  Thank you to my husband and children for allowing me to sometimes pay more attention to Elizabeth and Daniel than to you, but I never missed the important stuff. I appreciate your support and that you never laughed at me, except maybe Sarah did.

  Adam, in your own quiet way you were always there for me. Your nightly living room piano concerts helped keep me focused.

  Caiti, my chief cheerleader, you still have to wait a few more years until I’ll let you read this book. My apologies for not writing a YA book for you. Thank you for choosing my cover font.

  Sarah, who often made fun of me, and still does. I love the cover! Thank you for designing it, and for designing my website and other social media sites. We have the best bartering system: shoes, designer bags...

  Paul, for all your encouragement. You always believed in me and my project, sending me to classes and conferences. You even supported what might have seemed ridiculous, but worked. Yes, I’m referring to a certain one night trip to Las Vegas solely to attend an All-American Rejects’ concert. I knew it would boost my creativity, and it did. I probably should thank Tyson Ritter and Nick Wheeler, because every time I saw them live, I had similar results. I have no idea why this happens.

  Thank you to Avery, Esther, Harriett and Yada for reading various drafts of Hollywood Princess. Esther, it was your comments that led me to find a home in the New Adult genre.

  Finally, thank you readers, for taking a chance on a debut author.

  Chapter 1-Elizabeth

  Could today get any better? From across the room of my intermediate-level French class, an adorable-looking guy with smooth, dark curls flashed me a shy smile that set my heart aflutter.

  If a flirty smile counted, then this was the second good thing to happen this morning. The first had been…no, maybe this was the third. Definitely, the second. Though “Gives You Hell,” the perfect mood-boosting song to start the day woke me, it didn’t count.

  A longtime favorite, this song was ideal for imbuing me with the confidence needed to face the first day of freshman classes at exclusive Donnelly College in Upstate New York. I wanted to give them hell, unless my usual insecurities and shyness surfaced. Often a possibility.

  Rising slowly, I had opened the window shade a crack. The sixth-floor view, all treetops, but after yesterday’s rain, at least the sun shone through. Certainly, that was a good omen.

  A passing glance at the clock confirmed the early hour; enough time to leisurely check my e-mails and choose my clothing for the day.

  Quickly scrolling my iPhone confirmed my hunch. Today was already a good day! A late-night love note from Mom made my eyes tear. Far away from my Santa Monica home, I missed Mom and Dad more than I imagined, though it had only been a few days since move-in.

  Silently, I tiptoed into the bathroom, enjoying the privacy that came with being the only one awake. I shared a suite with two other girls on the seventh floor of a ten-story tower, Donnelly’s tallest building. The tower appeared to be sitting on the broad shoulders of ivy-covered Berkeley Hall, an otherwise four-story, C-shaped brick building.

  Loud, rapid knocking interrupted my reverie while I brushed my teeth.

&nb
sp; “You almost done?”

  With the water running, I couldn’t tell which impatient roommate it was. I spit into the small sink to answer.

  “One more minute,” I called. Jeez! It was bad enough having to share the facilities, but really, I hadn’t been in the bathroom for that long.

  Rachel was leaning against the doorjamb to her bedroom, shower caddy in hand, staring. I smiled to diffuse the tension and returned to my room. Learning to live with other people was more difficult than I had imagined.

  Born into A-list Hollywood society, I led a rarefied existence where you never wanted for anything, nor waited for anything. The downside, everyone assumed they knew you because of the latest gossip blog entries. At Donnelly, for the first time in my eighteen years, I’ll have the opportunity to be me. I’m three thousand miles from home, just another anonymous freshman. It’s time for me to discover who I am.

  It was time to get dressed, too. I had been mulling this over since I’d arrived. Before going to sleep, I rifled through my wardrobe once again, never having selected first-day clothes before. The schools I attended in Los Angeles had required uniforms.

  What was a simple decision for most tied me up in knots. I wanted to dress like a typical Donnelly student. But who exemplified typical for me to emulate? In my few days on campus, I observed fashion that ran the gamut from prep, goth, punk, hippy, jock, and Walmart to fashionistas like my roommate Chloe.

  Chloe boasted designer labels without fear. At worst, she would be teased and called a Jewish American Princess. For doing the same, I’d face sneers and derision while being called a stuck-up Hollywood bitch.

  That my flippy khaki skirt and lavender cropped polo, both courtesy of J.Crew, were appropriate soon became apparent. As I approached the classroom door when French ended, cutie, dressed just as preppy, stopped me. Only then did I take in his pale blue eyes, a distinct contrast to his smooth mocha complexion.

  “Bonjour, mademoiselle,” he said, smiling warmly. “Je m’appelle Cameron Reynolds.”

  “Elizabeth Jacobs,” I answered.

  “I’m meeting my roommates for lunch. Want to join us?” Cameron asked in English, his voice smooth and lacking any discernable regional accent.

  At midday, the quad, the most public of public places on the Donnelly campus intimidated me. Companionship would insulate me from the gawking students I detected almost as soon as my toes touched the concrete path. Focused on me, Cameron, of course, was oblivious, for he had not been born into my life.

  “That’s her, isn’t it?” a student walking behind us whispered to a buddy.

  “I thought Miranda Jordan’s daughter would wear better clothes,” her friend said.

  “I know, right? Ms. Jordan can easily afford Ralph Lauren. Why the J.Crew knockoff?”

  Crap! Didn’t they realize I was trying to blend in by dressing like everyone else?

  I pretended that I hadn’t heard them. If Cameron noticed, he graciously did not say anything.

  As we stood on the century-old dining hall’s front steps waiting for our roommates, I took in the grandeur of the Donnelly campus. Initially wait-listed and headed for Swarthmore, I had never visited Donnelly, my first-choice college. The website didn’t do it justice.

  “How were your classes?” I greeted Rachel and Chloe when they finally arrived. The wait seemed longer than it probably was, but I was fidgety, praying not to be noticed again.

  Rachel bubbled with excitement. “You’ll never believe who is in my class.”

  Her morning class, “Survey of Motion Pictures,” left me curious. Nobody I knew from home was enrolled at Donnelly. It must be someone New York-based.

  Noticing Cameron lingering a step behind me, she answered, “I’ll tell you later.”

  Once inside the lobby, Cameron’s phone buzzed, an incoming text. He read the message and frowned.

  “Looks like Shane won’t be joining us,” he said.

  “What about your other roommate?” I asked. Three girls at a table with only one guy was awkward, especially when we barely knew each other.

  Cameron smiled. “He’ll be here,” he said with certainty. “My roommate’s always late.”

  After purchasing our food, we found an empty table. Preparing to place my lunch down, a confident male voice came up behind me.

  “Cam, you’ve been busy this morning,” it teased.

  Instinctively, I turned my head toward the speaker. Our eyes locked, green on blue. The power of his dark sapphire stare overwhelmed me.

  “Eli?”

  Only one person ever called me Eli. I was dumbstruck that not only was he here, he was apparently Cameron’s roommate. My heart catapulted into overdrive. I lost my grip on the plate, and it slammed onto the table with a jarring bang.

  “Danny!” I breathlessly responded, and he pulled me into a bear hug, his now taller six-foot frame towering over me.

  Danny Newman’s strength and muscularity surprised me. He had been hitting the weight room since we last hugged.

  My head was spinning, my pulse racing. I thought I might faint, though whether from the shock of seeing him or from Danny’s innate sensuality, I couldn’t discern.

  Why hadn’t anyone told me that Danny was attending Donnelly? My parents must have known. Our families had been closer than close for over twenty years. As youngsters, we were inseparable. Nearly a year and a half older than I, Danny was like an older brother. Then once puberty began to kick in, my sisterly love morphed into a full-fledged infatuation. But after Danny left for prep school in New Hampshire, our relationship changed. So why did my insides quake? I was eighteen years old, a mature college student now.

  Yet my eyes clung to Danny. Incredibly handsome, his mesmerizing eyes with long, dark lashes caught your attention and held it. Danny’s face had thinned. His cheekbones were more prominent. Emphasis fell on his full lips, posed in a wry smile aimed in my direction, and his straight, sun-streaked hair was shorter, though still shaggy. I couldn’t stop staring.

  Danny Newman had morphed from teen heartthrob into full-fledged hunk.

  “Mom told me you were attending Donnelly,” Danny said. “I planned on calling you after classes. Now I don’t have to.”

  “My parents didn’t tell me,” I answered, dumbfounded by his revelation.

  “Strange.” Danny shrugged, then pulled me back for another emotional hug. “You look great,” he whispered. “You’re older now.”

  “Of course I’m older.” What did Danny expect? Five years had passed since we’d last seen each other.

  Rachel stared. Danny must be the student from her morning class. As a film major, she would have found Steven Newman’s son being in her class exciting.

  Danny released me and took the seat next to me.

  “Eli’s like my kid sister.” Danny answered the unasked question in everyone’s eyes.

  “Eli? Kid sister?” Rachel asked, stunned by this revelation.

  “I couldn’t pronounce ‘Elizabeth.’” Danny quirked a brow. “Can I still call you, ‘Eli’?”

  “If you must,” I sighed. This battle was unwinnable, so why fight it.

  Danny grinned, victorious. “Eli’s my dearest friend in the world. I’ve known her since before her birth.”

  “Dad and Steve roomed together in college,” I added as an explanation.

  “Steve?”

  I regretted uttering his name. The wheels in Rachel’s head spun.

  “So your father is Steven Newman? The director?” she confirmed.

  “Guilty as charged. Good old dad.” Danny winked at me.

  Rachel eyed me suspiciously. Now she knew. The Newmans and Jacobs were frequently linked. Would she keep my identity quiet?

  “What other classes are you in?” I asked Danny, quickly changing the subject.

  CHAPTER 2 - ELIZABETH

  Danny and I discovered we were in the same political science class. As everyone dispersed after lunch, we headed off to the squat brick social sciences building, a shor
t walk across the residential quad.

  Entering the cavernous lecture hall, I led the way into the third row. Two vacant seats in the center called to us. I sat down in the first one. Then Danny stepped by me to reach the other. From this vantage point, I would spend the semester gazing into Danny’s potent sapphire eyes.

  Though the professor took to the lectern, commanding every student’s attention, I sensed eyes on me. I turned my head to the side. Two girls sitting toward the end of the next row were staring, and I turned away.

  This was not what I wanted. Please let it be first-day curiosity. I wanted to engage in class discussion, but the professor was lecturing, affording no opportunities for participation. I needed my classmates to see that I was just another Donnelly student. News flash folks: celebrities’ children have brains.

  I turned back again hoping their attention would be on the professor, as it should be. But no! The girls continued staring. And they weren’t even embarrassed at being caught. I followed the trajectory of their pupils. Oh! I blushed. Danny. Of course; I should have expected as much.

  After class, Danny led me to a nearby bench bathed in late-summer sun. What a beautiful afternoon for the outdoors, and at a time of the season when such opportunities were fleeting. Fall would be upon Donnelly soon enough.

  I curled my legs under my skirt to face Danny. It was wonderful being with him. The comfortable familiarity we’d always shared had returned in an instant. I enjoyed having my “big brother” around.

  “Amazing,” Danny said. “I move three thousand miles for college and find my dearest friend in the world.”

  “It’s great,” I agreed, then changed the subject. “Danny, I want to keep a low profile. People shouldn’t guess who I am.”

  Danny picked up the end of my long, thick braid and twirled it.

  “So that’s why this?”

  I swatted his hand away. Danny was right. I only braided my hair for sports or the beach. Loose auburn waves were my trademark in a town where everyone did whatever they could to have straight, glossy hair.

  “I haven’t even told my roommates. Chloe and Rachel think Dad’s an attorney.”

  Danny laughed. “Well, Mike did go to law school.” I frowned. “Eli, I’ve always loved your folks. Are you ashamed of them?”

 

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