A chance encounter with a celebrity, an impromptu video of an innocent kiss and a shiny new espresso machine. It all added up to a juicy tale for 24-year old Rachael Allen to share. But when her best friend posts the video online, bizarre threats from an obsessed fan follow close behind. Mick Sullivan, the star in her video, offers to help and in the process, Rachael discovers that despite his reputation as a player of Olympian caliber, he’s down-to-earth””and emotionally damaged. Despite wildly divergent life paths, their shared southern upbringing and a passion for good music create a common thread that draws them to one another. As the threats escalate, and their relationship deepens, Rachael struggles to accept Mick’s past and ultimately decide if being with Mick Sullivan is worth the collateral damage.

“You’ll Be Thinking of Me” is the story of Rachael’s serendipitous encounter with a celebrity, her brush with obsessive love and the bittersweet gift left behind by the very person fixated on destroying her life.

I get asked, as most authors do, what gave me the idea for my story, which happens to be about a celebrity stalker. There’s a love story in there, of course, (an imagined one and a real one) but I digress. I’m happy to say I’ve never been stalked and have never known anyone personally who has been stalked. What sparked the idea was an interview I saw several years ago with a young actor, who was incredibly popular, surrounded by screaming girls and women wherever he went. He was clearly uncomfortable with the sudden fame and when the reporter asked him, “So where do you think it can go from here” He matter-of-factly said, “Well, someone could always come out the crowd and stab me.” It shocked me and stuck with me, just how vulnerable celebrities are. I started researching celebrity stalkers and the story grew from there.

I read everything I could find both online and in psychology textbooks about stalkers and found some incredibly bizarre tales. I was truly lucky to get to speak with Dr. Reid Meloy, who is a stalking expert and has been involved with celebrity stalking cases. He was extremely helpful. And from all of this, my stalker, Brenda Benton, was born.

My MC, Rachael Allen, has a bit of a young me in there, I suppose, but I think most girls and women can relate to some aspect of her life and her character.

My celebrity, Mick Sullivan, is an amalgam of all the hot twentysoemthing actors out there that I’ve seen in interviews, in images captured by the paparazzi and at awards shows as they walk the red carpet. That research was fun. 🙂

I have an obsession of my own with the idea of serendipity. Turn right and you might bump into the love of your life. Turn left and you might see a hell-wanted sign that will get you the job you’ve been looking for. Stay in place you and you could get run over by a bus jumping the curb. Everything you do, no matter how mundane it may seem has the potential to be life-changing. Rachael’s encounter with Mick Sullivan is one of those serendipitous events with huge, long-lasting ripple effects on not only their lives, but the lives of people around them.

Here’s a short excerpt: Mick came to New York on business twice during those first couple of months and invited me downstairs for a quick beer. But he always seemed to be on his way out. “Wish I could stay longer. Have to meet someone in the city.” On his third visit, he stuck close to home, and this time he texted an invitation to join him for drinks””plural””but I was as nervous as if he had invited me into his bed. I tried not to dither too much over my appearance. Up until now, my “girl next door” looks had worked for me. Shoulder-length, toasted-almond hair, fair skin with a spattering of freckles, and lips that didn’t need collagen to be called full. And my unique eye coloring was a guaranteed conversation starter. “Doable,” is how Jenna described me, though I preferred “approachable.” And I had been approached enough to know that men found my looks appealing. but, I could never live up to the Hollywood standard of beauty Mick was accustomed to. I wasn’t even going to try. After running the brush through my hair, putting on a bit of eyeliner, mascara, and some pale lip-gloss, I threw on my favorite pair of ripped jeans and a white V-neck T-shirt that revealed a bit of cleavage (okay, so I was trying a little), went downstairs and knocked on his door.