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Cassie plowed into the vehicle, metal grinding against metal. The guy that had stepped out couldn’t have survived the impact. What did they call it—vehicular manslaughter? She would go to prison for the rest of her life. She’d taken a life and would give up her own in payment. Forcing her eyes open, her jaw dropped in amazement.

The guy was alive.

Granted, he was draped across the trunk of some foreign-looking convertible but she hadn’t killed him. Somehow, his quick reflexes saved his life. He stood and limped a few steps. He leaned against the car—what was left of it—and held a hand to his forehead as he turned to stare at her.

Her adrenaline spiked. She’d totaled his very expensive car. Cassie would bravely meet him in the middle and grovel. Maybe turn on tears for good measure.

She unhooked her seat belt and tried to get out of the car. The door wouldn’t budge. Steam rose from the crumpled hood. The sedan shuddered, giving up the ghost.

The smell of gasoline began to permeate the air, clouding her judgment. She looked down at her outfit and knew today’s interview wasn’t happening with the way she looked. Confused, she wondered what to do.

Cassie saw the stupid dog again that she’d swerved to miss. The mutt’s owner teetered over on stilettos and scooped the dog up, glaring at Cassie. She estimated the dog’s outfit cost more than her last month’s rent. The woman didn’t bother to ask if she needed help.

Suddenly, he was hollering. The guy she’d sort of hit. It must’ve been his car she’d smashed. If she hadn’t been sure before, she was now. Men and their cars—no one came between them.

Cassie giggled at her flash of wisdom. That was one car that wouldn’t be cruising around Beverly Hills anytime soon. What would this do to her insurance? She already had two speeding tickets in the last eighteen months. Her agent would drop her now. She’d be at the mercy of those goons that only advertised on late night TV, charging an arm and a leg to cover high-risk drivers. She was now a charter member of that club.

The guy inched closer, hobbling along, yelling, his arms waving. Breathing the fumes had her disoriented. She couldn’t understand what he was saying. She started to apologize but then remembered her mom told her never to apologize after a wreck because that could be construed as admitting guilt. She was at fault.

Big time.

The guy made it to her and tried to yank the door open. It wouldn’t move. Before Cassie could speak, he reached through her open window and hauled her out.

“Hey, wait a minute. What are you doing?”

He mumbled something but all Cassie could do was stare at him. He had the most amazing gray eyes, dark and stormy and full of anger.

At her.

Recognition seared through her. “Oh, God. You’re Rhett Corrigan.”


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Hollywood Heartbreaker (Hollywood Name Game Book 1) by Alexa Aston

Cover: Hollywood Heartbreaker by Alexa Aston

Contemporary Romantic Comedy

Being late to an interview lands her the biggest job opportunity of her life.

He may be rich and successful—but he’s just this side of miserable.

Can a wannabe be The One for the biggest star in Hollywood?

Cassie Carroll came to Hollywood with big dreams that never materialized. Acting isn’t even on the back burner anymore—it’s completely off the stove. Working for a third-rate agent, Cassie hopes to land a new job that will give her credibility, as well as help pay the rent. Late to her interview, she swerves to avoid hitting a dog—and totals the car of Hollywood’s leading action superstar. Surprisingly, she walks away from their encounter with a job—as the sexiest man alive’s personal assistant.

Rhett Corrigan is bored with the movies he makes and the drop-dead gorgeous model he’s dating. He’s afraid that Hollywood has typecast him—and that he’ll never be able to break out of his action mold and try new acting challenges.
When Cassie Carroll literally slams into his life, she brings a breath of fresh air and common sense to his world. She pushes him to be a better actor and a better man.

Can these friends become lovers—and can their love survive—in a tabloid-happy town that thrives on rumors and backstabbing?


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