Title: SUPERSTAR
Author: Beth Henderson
Genre: Vintage Romance
Book Blurb:
A decade-spanning tale of soulmates torn apart by each’s pursuit of a career in the late 20th century.
Paul Montgomery’s dreams are of music, of writing it as well as performing. His journey takes him from covering Beatle songs for high school dances in the mid-1960s to being acclaimed for his diversity in the world of rock ‘n’ roll. Particularly for composing a library of love songs. With sold out concerts around the world, singles and albums that repeatedly go gold then platinum, and innovative music videos on MTV, he seems to lead a charmed life. At least, professionally. Along the way there is tragedy: the loss of a friend to the Viet Nam war, the attempt to save a fellow rocker from her drug addiction, but it is winning and losing the only woman he’s ever loved – twice – that is a never healing wound in his heart.
For Aurora Chambers, it is the world of fashion that beckons. A scholarship for a summer design program in London is a carrot even her love for Paul can’t best. Hurt by his seeming denigrating of her aspirations, she throws herself into the heart of Carnaby Street in 1967, and the arms of her instructor, Trevor Harris, a self-serving man who plans to use her talent as his stepping stone to better things. Unaware of Paul’s continuing love for her, Rory binds her future to Trevor’s. It is a step she soon learns to regret though it does bring her career success beyond her previous dreams. With a clothing line that repeatedly wins accolades on the catwalks, she has only one stumbling block. Her designs all carry Trevor’s name, not her own. Aurora must marshal some of Trevor’s own devious traits to take back what is hers. Secretly, she follows Paul’s rise through the music trades, occasionally mourning the loss of what they’d had. When a second chance at happiness with him appears, she grabs it. And nearly destroys them both.
Because, sometimes love simply isn't enough.
Excerpt:
Aurora dashed toward the back of the house in fury.
Lights glowed from the house. She didn’t relish going in just yet.
She’d been a fool to think she could handle Craig. She’d known what he would expect in return for squiring her about. Or should have.
Stupid, that’s what she was. Stupid to have wanted to look like she wasn’t moping alone waiting for Paul to notice her. He could have any girl he wanted. He just had never wanted her.
But putting up with Craig’s roaming hands wasn’t what she wanted. In a few weeks, high school would be behind her. Yet her life would be empty.
What was it about her that Paul found so…so…?
A single tear slid down her cheek and dropped on her hand. She sniffed and wiped it away.
So undesirable.
Other tears rolled free, dampening her face, giving no solace to her heart. She had tried not to care that he was seen with one beautiful girl after another. All girls older and no doubt more experienced in how to get a man’s attention. She’d had nothing but idiot boys with stupid egos. And she hadn’t wanted a one of them.
Aurora stifled a sob, dashed the new flood of tears away with the palm of her hand, wishing the night would sooth her, would heal the misery of being such a failure. Why couldn’t Paul see that she’d grown up?
She had to calm down, had to let the balmy night breezes dry her face and hopefully take some of her unhappiness with them as they went on their way.
Gradually she became aware that the night was not silent. The soft strains of music reached her, guitar music.
A soft light threw a lattice pattern from the window across the lawn near the Montgomery garage. She listened to the smooth blend of chords, one change flowing into the next. The music drew her as if played by a Pied Piper. But then, Paul always had drawn her.
The door opened without a sound. He wasn’t aware of her arrival. Aurora closed it and stood silent in the shadows.
A lone bulb dangled above him, casting a circle of light around the stool upon which he perched. A shortened mic stand sat before him, the cord running off to a large reel to reel tape recorder. The reels were already turning. He hummed a bit, checking the tuning of the guitar. At last he leaned forward, toward the mic and counted to four.
The song was soft, poignant. She recognized it although Paul’s rendition was different, sadder somehow.
His long slender fingers plucked at the strings bringing the blues notes to life, making them cry.
“You put your hand in mine,” he whispered at the microphone.
Was it the sound of his voice, or the way he delivered the second line, the one that confessed an emotion so strong it made speech nearly impossible?
It was the way she felt whenever she was near him. More so when he brushed casually against her. The evening of the band’s first gig had been the epitome of her existence because he’d slipped his arm around her waist and held her close. She knew it had been an action to dissuade the girls drawn to him even weeks before his performance drew those sudden and slightly disturbing screams. Disturbing because they interfered with her dreams, because the excited cries reinforced what she already knew about Paul — that he had no need for a single girlfriend when there were dozens of available and willing girls around.
And yet, the way he crooned this song said something entirely different. “But you don’t know me,” his rasping voice whispered into the mic, the emotion in it raw to her ear.
Within her breast, a seed of hope sprang to life.
~ ~ ~
It was a hell of a night, Paul thought, his fingering on the neck of the guitar changing, moving in the demands of the song. He hadn’t been able to concentrate. Not since he’d glanced out his bedroom window and seen Rory drive off with the kid with the cocky walk. The sight had depressed the hell out of him, sent him stumbling down the stairs to seek solace in music in his makeshift studio in the garage.
Only the music hadn’t done its number on him that night. His thoughts morose, he’d run through a repertoire until he’d stumbled on the one that suited his mood. Now, his head still bent over the instrument, his fingers slid to a more complicated positioning.
And realized he was no longer alone. A pale shadow stood just inside the door, quiet, waiting, wanting.
He should stop singing. Instead, he let the song say what he couldn’t tell her yet. At least he could blame the lyrics, hiding the truth they exposed.
So, he moved through the song, pretending the performance wasn’t for her, merely another practice session. She’d heard the words before, probably knew them by heart considering that Ray Charles had covered the tune only a few years before. If the words sounded personal as he whispered them, he had his excuse ready.
Unless he told her the truth. As the song did.
“You never know, the one who loves you so.”
The final chord and remaining lyrics died away. Rather than switch off the tape recorder, he studied the gleaming strings, not looking up. Took the plunge.
“You weren’t supposed to hear that, Red,” he said.
Despite his intentions, the words seemed to tumble out. “I saw you drive off with that jock, and, well…hey.” He looked up; found where she stood in the gloom as easily as if she stood in a spotlight. A smile — be it leer or smirk to others — flitted at the corners of his mouth in a self-depreciating way. “I’m between lady loves and…”
Aurora took a step into the light. “I love you, too,” she said quietly.
Buy Links (including Goodreads and BookBub):
Amazon: getbook.at/SUPERSTAR
Goodreads: SUPERSTAR by Beth Henderson | Goodreads
What makes your featured book a must-read?
When you’ve written dozens of tales, it can become difficult to name a favorite among them. For me, hands down, it’s SUPERSTAR. Frankly, I’d run away with Paul Montgomery, the hero, and all he’d need to give me is a tip of his head and we’d be on our way. This story is the longest one I’ve ever written, but it also took me decades to write it. I started spinning it in the late 1980s when I was still unpublished and only finished writing it in November 2014. The reason why it took so long is that it wasn’t my usual type of story to tell. I kept putting it aside for years at a time, particularly once I was published in the shorter romantic comedy genre. But Paul wouldn’t leave me alone. Yes, there is a heroine, but for me this has always been Paul’s book. Oddly enough, when writer friends pick it up to read the first thing they say is, “OMG, I love Paul!” I can’t tell you how many times I’ve reread this story, but I never get tired of doing so. Hanging out with Paul is like comfort food.
Giveaway –
Enter to win a $25 Amazon gift card:
Open Internationally.
Runs August 20 – August 27, 2024.
Winner will be drawn on August 28, 2024.
Author Biography:
Beth Henderson is the author of nearly 40 novels under various pseudonyms. Although she sings slightly off-key, that was not a deterrent when she was inadvertently writing copy for the evening disc jockey on WONE in Dayton, Ohio when in high school. He read the various silly news features she wrote for The Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Lunch Bags newsletter on the air. Nor when being quoted by her first husband when he was on the air at various other radio stations. She spent many an evening as “the girl who came with the band” on dates with a jazz musician and later married another of the same ilk. And yet, she can honestly say, not a one of them contributed to the creation of Paul Montgomery. He simply walked into her mind and hung around until she figured out his whole story – which took decades. As a result, her “relationship” with Paul is far longer than any she had with boyfriend or spouse. A fact that bothers her not a jot.
Social Media Links:
Facebook: at http://bit.ly/2GvFyog
Twitter: @Beth__Henderson