DREAMING OF YOUR LOVE
HOLLYWOOD LEGENDS
BOOK THREE
MARY J. WILLIAMS
Copyright © 2016 MARY J. WILLIAMS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Writing isn’t easy. But I love every second. A blank screen isn’t the enemy. It is the opportunity to create new friends and take them on amazing adventures and life-changing journeys. I feel blessed to spend my days weaving tales that are unique—because I made them.
Billionaires. Songwriters. Artists. Actors. Directors. Stuntmen. Football players. They fill the pages and become dear friends I hope you will want to revisit again and again.
Thank you for jumping into my books and coming along for the journey.
HOW TO GET IN TOUCH
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https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5648619.Mary_J_Williams
MORE BOOKS BY MARY J. WILLIAMS
Harper Falls Series
If I Loved You
If Tomorrow Never Comes
If You Only Knew
If I Had You (Christmas in Harper Falls)
Hollywood Legends Series
Dreaming with a Broken Heart
Dreaming with My Eyes Wide Open
Dreaming Again (Coming in July)
One Pass Away Series
After the Rain
After All These Years
After the Fire (Coming in June)
TABLE OF CONTENTS
About the Author
How to Get in Touch
More Books by Mary J. Williams
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
Coming Soon
An Excerpt From After the Rain (One Pass Away Book One)
An Excerpt From Dreaming With a Broken Heart
PROLOGUE
LIGHTS FLASHED FROM every direction. It blinded and dazzled all at once.
Screams drowned out every other sound. This was Los Angeles. Busy streets in every direction. Jet patterns overhead. The excited—in some cases rabid—fans that surrounded the roped-off red carpet made it seem like nothing existed but them and the bright lights.
It shouldn’t have been a pleasant experience. Alighting from the over-the-top luxury of a Rolls Royce into chaos and mayhem? No normal human being would willingly seek out such an experience.
However, Colton Landis was not a normal human being. He was an actor.
Colt turned his world-famous megawatt smile on the crowd, eliciting another deafening burst of heartfelt screams.
“We need to get inside, Colt. The movie starts in ten minutes.”
“Relax, Deb.”
Colt’s publicist had been with him for five years. Deb Kline knew how to spin a press release like nobody else. They saw eye to eye on most things. Except how much he should expose himself to his fans. If she had her way, he would zip from point A to point B as quickly as humanly possible.
In this case, point A was the limo, and point B was Grauman’s Chinese Theater.
“I’ll relax when you are safely inside. Have you forgotten Dallas already?”
“Dallas was an anomaly.”
Colt continued to wave and smile. Deb wanted him to curb his accessibility. She had always been cautious, but after a fan somehow breached security during a press conference to announce his next movie, she was particularly leery of events like this one.
“Colt.”
“Don’t go over there, Colt.”
Deb knew the second Colt observed the waving autograph books, her words fell on deaf ears. He believed in giving his fans what they wanted. It was one of the things that made Colton Landis a huge movie star. He genuinely loved his fans. He loved meeting them, speaking with them, having his picture taken with them. Most of her clients searched for any reason to avoid these moments. Not Colt. He didn’t have a public persona and a private one. What you saw was what you got—twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.
Colt made her job as a publicist a dream. Keeping him safe was a nightmare.
He refused to have a bodyguard. Part of it was ego—and he had plenty of that. Many of his parts portrayed him as a big, macho, tough guy. How would it look if he had a bigger, more macho, tough guy constantly shadowing him? Not great for his reputation. He would look weak. And in Hollywood, perception was everything.
It was a valid argument. Not so valid? Colt believed that, for the most part, his fans were harmless. Not that he was a naïve Pollyanna. There was no need for Deb to point out the entertainment world’s tragic examples of the heinous acts obsessive fans could commit.
Colt lived the life. He grew up watching his superstar mother traverse that fine line between making herself accessible to fans and maintaining some much-needed privacy.
However, he didn’t have a family to consider. No wife. No children. His life was his own. A bodyguard would mean he was giving in. Turning his life over to fear instead of embracing every single moment of his fairytale existence.
“Ten minutes.”
Deb didn’t know if Colt heard her over the screams. Nor did she care. She was getting him into that theater if it meant grabbing his ear and dragging him along like an errant five-year-old. And wouldn’t that make a great picture in People magazine? Okay. No ears. Ugh. This man was going to make her old before her time.
Colt held a woman’s phone at arm’s length, including himself in a selfie of her and her three friends.
“I love you, Colton.”
Colt couldn’t single out the speaker. The cry came from every direction. He waved and called out, “I love you, too.”
He signed a few more autographs, moving along the line. Deb was right. He needed to get inside. It wasn’t fair to keep everyone waiting. Ten more, he promised himself. It killed him to see the expressions on the faces of the fans who were left out.
“Thanks. See you soon,” Colt called out to the crowd.
Handing her signed book to a dreamy-eyed woman, Colt gave the crowd a final wave.
“Ready?” Deb tried to maintain the stern teacher expression she had spent twenty years cultivating.
Colt had a way of making her professional mask slip. Thank goodness she was old enough to be his youngish grandmother. While his charm was undeniable, her age and experience allowed her to put the sexual pull that radiated around him into perspective.
Until he turned his smile on her. Full blast.
“Am I that big of a pain in the ass?”
There it was. That naughty twinkle in his deep blue eyes that made the world swoon. On screen, it was irresistible. Paired with dark hair and a tall, muscular frame, was it any wonder the camera loved him?
<
br /> Reluctantly, Deb returned his smile.
Colt was her client. He was also her friend. She knew he wasn’t trying to be difficult. He was being himself. For a man who was adored by millions, catered to on a daily basis, and could buy and sell two or three third-world nations without raising a sweat, Colton Landis was surprisingly down to Earth. And hard-headed. And opinionated.
On top of that? On occasions such as this one, a major pain in the ass.
Still, if she were honest, there wasn’t a single thing about him that she would change. As movie stars went—hell, as human beings went—Colton Landis was a joy to be around. Not that she would ever tell him that. The last thing he needed was another person extolling his endless virtues. Colt hated that kind of treatment. One of the reasons they worked so well together was because Deb didn’t kowtow.
Deb was about to hit him with one of the nifty sarcastic one-liners he loved, when a scream came from the crowd. Not a we love you cry, but one of terror. Before she could react, Deb saw a man jump over the velvet rope. He carried a knife.
Colt pushed her to the side, effectively putting himself between her and the attacker. He isn’t after me, Deb wanted to protest. But everything happened so fast, she didn’t have time.
In the blink of an eye, the man raised the knife and stabbed Colt.
CHAPTER ONE
THE GLAMOUR OF Hollywood was a tissue-thin façade rolled out for red carpet movie premieres and award ceremonies. Anyone hoping to find Oscar night glitz would have their dreams dashed by a fast dose of reality.
Hollywood was built on sweat, backbiting, betrayal, and ruthlessness. The founders didn’t care about talent or dreams. Getting ahead took more than a pretty face. It took ambition and a hell of a lot of luck.
Staying ahead was another game altogether. This town loved a winner. Until that winner had two or three box office duds. It was amazing how quickly people lost your phone number and forgot your name.
It was brutal and not for the faint of heart.
Colton Landis stood on the street outside Landis Productions, taking in the noise and the smog. He took a deep breath. This was Hollywood. The real Hollywood. Nothing got done—not a frame of film rolled through the camera—without money. The more, the better.
And no one was better at extracting large sums from reluctant investors than his brother Wyatt—not even their father. He took everything Caleb Landis taught him and added his spin. The result? The toughest deal makers in Hollywood sported the same last name.
“Excuse me. Aren’t you Colton Landis?”
So much for traveling incognito. Colt left his home this morning wanting a bit of rare anonymity. Sunglasses. An old cap sporting the logo of an obscure Midwest Minor League baseball team pulled low to shadow his famous face. Rarely was he recognized in this part of town. Still, some minor camouflage never hurt.
As it turned out, he shouldn’t have bothered.
With an inward sigh, Colt smiled at the fifty-something woman and her friend. Graciously, he signed their tourist brochures and posed for a few pictures.
He didn’t mind. Not really. He loved his fans. So what if this was one of those blue moon days when he wanted to be Joe Smith—everyman. The ladies didn’t know that. They were sweet and a little giddy. By the time he was finished making their day, they had made his.
“Good morning, Colt.”
“How are you?”
“Good.”
Colt was never certain what to make of Wyatt’s assistant. Derrick ran his brother’s office with the brutal efficiency of a staff sergeant—wearing Italian leather loafers and tailored suits. He didn’t know what kind of salary the man pulled down—that was between him and Wyatt, but it had to be impressive if he could afford to dress like a Gordon Gekko wannabe.
“Wyatt is on a call to Tokyo, but he said to send you right in.” Derrick led Colt to the office. “May I bring you something? Water? Espresso?”
“No. Thank you.”
“Hmm.” Derrick closed the door with a snap.
Strange. There was no other way to describe the man. Colt wasn’t thirsty. Why did Derrick care? Did he get a bonus from the vendors for pushing their products? A little kickback if the office went through a certain amount of coffee every month?
“Hey,” Wyatt grinned. Moving around his desk, he pulled Colt in for a hug. “Right on time.”
Colt slapped his big brother on the back. The Landis boys were a tight-knit group. However, perhaps because Garrett and Nate were twins, Colt felt closest to Wyatt. If he had a problem, Wyatt tended to be his first call. When Wyatt’s marriage made its final gasp, he spent a lot of nights crashing at Colt’s place.
From the outside, Wyatt seemed like the buttoned-down, serious Landis. In many ways, that was true. Colt knew there was a wild side. He’d seen it. And would just as soon never see it again.
“I know the difference between an invitation and an order. The message you left was from my producer, not my brother.”
Wyatt didn’t correct him. They were brothers first and forever. However, their careers meant a lot. Colt spent his time in front of the camera. It was Wyatt’s job to make sure the production side of the shoot ran smoothly.
“I wanted to share this information in person. As of this morning, Playing with Fire is a go.”
“That’s fantastic, Wyatt.”
Colt’s name was enough to get most movies made. For some reason, the romantic comedy found more obstacles than anyone anticipated. The money people didn’t like that the script had been written by an unknown who insisted on directing. What they didn’t say, except in whispers, was that they didn’t want a woman behind the camera when she didn’t have a proven track record.
How could she get experience if no one would give her a job? The money people didn’t care about that—Colt did. He liked Rene Longtree. She was smart and no matter what anyone said, he was certain she knew how to direct a movie. She should. She learned from one of the best. Colt’s brother. Garrett Landis.
“Who finally pulled his head out of his ass. Marks or Blankenship?”
“Blankenship. You and I know it was only a matter of time before one of them decided there was too much money to lose if they didn’t agree to your terms.”
“Our terms,” Colt reminded Wyatt.
“I fought for Rene because it was important to you.” When Colt stared him down, Wyatt caved a little. “I’m for giving a deserving person a chance, Colt.”
“Who heads the DIF?”
Diversity in Film was an organization that their father had founded last year. The main purpose was to push for the use of minorities and women in Hollywood. Last spring, Caleb Landis delivered a rousing speech, encouraging his peers to think outside the box when casting films and hiring talent.
While publicly the industry met the ideas with enthusiasm and praise, getting them implemented was another matter. True, hiring someone because it promoted diversity was a bad idea. Hiring the best person, no matter their gender or the color of their skin made complete sense.
Colt refused to budge. It was Rene or no one.
“It’s settled?”
Wyatt nodded.
“When do we start shooting?”
Colt wanted to get back to work. A vacation was great, but it had been too long between jobs. He had turned down half a dozen projects in anticipation of this one getting the green light. It was time to get off his ass and back in front of the camera.
“I spoke to Candice last week. She’s as anxious as I am.”
Candice DeMarcco would be his co-star—much to Colt’s trepidation. The actress had a reputation for being a bit of a diva. But he refused to take gossip at face value. He knew how to deal with difficult co-stars and Candice was perfect for the part. He was willing to take a chance it it meant making the best movie possible.
“The casting is set. Locations booked. Rene wanted a woman assistant director.”
“And?”
“Kiki Donahue.”
&nb
sp; Another of Garrett’s disciples. Better and better
“Full speed ahead.”
Colt loved this script. He had made a few comedies. And a few romantic dramas.
Wishes, the movie that made Hollywood sit up and recognize him as more than a pretty face, had been called the most romantic movie in decades.
After reading Playing with Fire, he knew he’d found the perfect blend of humor and romance. Not an easy balance to get right. Many tried, few succeeded. Wince-worthy attempts at the genre littered the Hollywood landscape. Colt believed this would be one of the rare exceptions.
“Colt.”
“I don’t like the way you said my name.”
Wyatt’s tone told Colt his brother was about to knock the sweet cherry off his hot fudge sundae.
“There is a caveat attached to the money.”
“Go on.”
“You need a bodyguard.”
Great. Wyatt hadn’t knocked the cherry off. He had decimated the entire dessert.
“No.”
“I’m not giving you a choice, Colton.”
Shit. Wyatt rarely called him Colton. When he did, he meant business.
“If this is about that minor incident at my last premiere.”
“Minor?” Wyatt pounded his fist on his desk. It was a rare show of temper. “A man stabbed you.”
“Stabbed is an exaggeration. Nicked. Once the nurse wiped away the blood, it didn’t even require stitches.”
“It was luck.”
“It was fast reflexes.” Colt wasn’t bragging. His quick moves prevented his attacker from causing major damage. And, he disarmed the man before security could arrive.
“Colt… “
“A bodyguard would have gotten in the way. I know. I’ve worked with them.”
Colt’s dismissive tone made his opinion clear.
“The backers don’t agree.”
“Talk them out of it.” Wyatt had the gift of persuasion. Smooth words. His brother never left a meeting without a signed contract. Getting the money men to drop the bodyguard stipulation would be a piece of cake.
Dreaming Of Your Love (Hollywood Legends #3) Page 1
