Star-crossed

By Carla Caruso

Is love really written in the stars?

Fledgling romance author Simona Gemella is hoping the rugged wilderness of South Australia's Kangaroo Island will help reignite her creative spark after her husband walked out on her (calling her a workaholic and filing for divorce). 

She's joined her best friend, Nessie, on a health and wellness retreat at a mysterious old manor on the island, run by an astrology guru.

Though Simona's sworn off men, she can't help being distracted by a darkly dangerous man with a scorpion tattoo - Denham Cobalt - who's also staying at the manor. Then strange things start to happen, including uncanny accidents and even a possible murder.

It all culminates at a masquerade party on the night of a total lunar eclipse. Will Simona survive - with her heart intact?

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Jun 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781460705629

Carla Caruso

Carla Caruso was born in Adelaide, Australia, and only 'escaped' for three years to work as a magazine journalist and stylist in Sydney. Previously, she was a gossip columnist and fashion editor at Adelaide's daily newspaper, The Advertiser. She has since freelanced for titles including Woman's Day, Cleo and Shop Til You Drop. These days, she writes fiction in between playing mum to twin sons Alessio and Sebastian, making fashion jewellery, and restoring vintage furniture. Oh, plus checking her daily horoscopes, jogging, and devouring trashy TV shows!   Find out more on Carla's website, or follow her on Instagram and Facebook. 

Book preview

Chapter One

‘Which star sign is most likely to make you cry?’

Simona Gemella looked up from her Kindle to find Nessie Fox, her best friend from high school, gazing at her expectantly, a celebrity magazine held aloft. Nessie’s grey-blue eyes reflected the choppy waters outside the ferry window.

Resting the eReader in her lap, Simona crossed her arms, despite the window separating her from the wintry sea air. ‘Geez, I don’t know.’

Nessie tossed her short blonde curls. Her eyes gleamed as she referred back to the magazine. ‘Scorpio.’

‘Huh. Interesting,’ Simona observed, only daring to pick up her Kindle again once Nessie had reburied her nose amid the glossy pages.

All ten of Simona’s fingers itched to check her debut novel’s latest sales ranking. She had been so good since the hour-long drive from Adelaide to the Cape Jervis ferry terminal. Trying — and failing — to stay in holiday mode, she had only just fished the eReader out of her handbag. The trip to a health retreat on Kangaroo Island — or KI — had been Nessie’s idea. Simona hadn’t been to the local tourism hotspot since she was a kid.

As she flicked open her Kindle’s tan leather cover, she felt an elbow dig into her side. Alas, Nessie wasn’t quite finished yet. Her friend shook out the magazine’s pages while recrossing impossibly long, impossibly tanned legs.

Only Nessie would team a knitted jumper with teeny-tiny denim shorts mid-winter. She had probably ripped the look straight from a fashion spread, actually game enough to wear such attire in real life. It contrasted with Simona’s own more classic ensemble of a navy turtleneck and faded black jeans. The pair might be old school-friends, but along with Simona’s pin-straight, long, dark hair and chocolate eyes, they were like yin and yang.

Nessie cleared her throat. ‘Now this is funny, Sim. Which star sign is most likely to stalk you?’

‘Stalk you? Far out. Where do they get this stuff?’ Simona stopped a sigh by clamping down on her bottom lip. Playing along was always the quickest, easiest route with Nessie. ‘Um …’

She was tempted to say Cancer, like her ex. Then again, she knew sulking was more Carmine’s style — curling up on the bed in the dark, for example, and expecting her to come find him.

Although, in the end even he had given up on her and her putting work first. Being served divorce papers had been glaring proof of that. It had rocked her more than she would ever have expected, but now it was time to toughen up again.

‘Gemini?’ Simona offered feebly.

‘Nope. Scorpio again.’ Nessie flashed perfect white teeth, which she’d admitted to bleaching every now and then. ‘They’re très stalker-ish.’ She nudged Simona in the side again. ‘Meanwhile, according to the poll, Capricorns, like you, are the most inclined to nurse a sick animal from the wild back to health, while Sagittarians — à la yours truly — are the most likely to make you laugh.’

A snort escaped via Simona’s nose, which almost proved Nessie’s point. ‘You’d probably be the one laughing at me doing a not-so-good job of nursing said animal. Some days I can barely look after myself.’

Let alone her needy, ultra-sensitive ex-husband.

As was life, she got the call that her debut novel would be published just as her marriage shattered into a million pieces. Ironically, she wrote romance. She loved rom-coms, and happy endings … even if they didn’t always happen in real life.

‘Oh, you’re not that useless. You just work too hard.’ Nessie tapped Simona’s Kindle with a coral-painted nail to make her point. ‘We’ve barely been on the ferry two minutes. You’re meant to be in relaxation mode, not playing with that.’

Simona looked down, mumbling, ‘I was only going to quickly check my sales.’

‘No point — you won’t get Wi-Fi on the water.’

Darn. She was right. ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’

Simona shoved the device in the seat pocket in front. She hadn’t downloaded any new books. Now she would have to suffer watching the French honeymooners in the row ahead, canoodling and whispering in the language of love.

Of course, she could use the time to come up with the plot for her next manuscript, even though she had promised herself a day off. One novel didn’t a career make, her agent, Helena, had boomed in a cigarette-stained voice. Her first book may only be out that week, but she had to strike while the iron was hot. If she didn’t, Helena warned, the publisher would drop her like a pair of last season’s boots, while other youngsters clamoured to take her spot. That was if her debut novel — about an Ancient Roman heartthrob, who lands in the twenty-first century and woos a modern lass — sold well …

It felt a bit like being in Eddie McGuire’s Hot Seat: one false move and she could blow the chance of a lifetime. Her childhood dream of being a full-time author. Maybe it was because her first book had only come out as an eBook — wasn’t tangible — that it seemed as though it could all slip through her fingertips.

Simona had sworn she would have something before the week was out, although she didn’t have even a skerrick of an idea. The divorce had zapped her of any romantic feelings. Not that Carmine thought she had any to begin with. How had he described her? Oh, yes, like a cold fish. Maybe she poured all her emotions onto the page instead.

She only hoped the change of scenery would get her creative juices flowing again. Everything she had given up — her short-lived marriage, her high-status journalism job, her sanity — couldn’t be for nothing.

‘Oh, that reminds me …’ Her friend dumped the magazine to rustle in her fringed handbag. ‘I was going to give you this when we got to the spa resort, but I’m too excited. Hold out your hand.’

‘Okay,’ Simona said slowly, praying it wouldn’t be some weird trinket from Nessie’s overseas travels that she had no idea what to do with.

Nessie’s last job was as a waitress on The Ghan train and, before that, was an activities coordinator on a European cruise ship. Nessie reckoned staying in one place wasn’t a Sagittarian trait. When she was away, she kept in touch with Simona via Skype and postcards sent from far-flung destinations. A bout of glandular fever had grounded Nessie in Adelaide longer than usual recently. While in recovery mode, she had been helping run her mum’s bead shop.

Something smooth, small and oval-shaped landed in Simona’s palm. She looked down as Nessie pulled her hand away. A brown-red stone lay there. As predicted, she didn’t have a clue what it was for.

‘Oh, wow, um … thanks.’

Nessie beamed. ‘I’ve been using crystals for healing lately.’ She fingered the tangle of multi-coloured gemstones at her own neck. ‘That one’s a garnet. It’s meant to unleash your imagination and alleviate writer’s block.’ Her mouth twisted in a show of sympathy. ‘I know you’ve struggled to get started on your next book.’

Nessie’s recent health woes, along with her mother’s influence, had also seen her go from party girl to hippy chic. Simona was counting the days to see how long this new phase lasted.

She rubbed the stone with her thumb. ‘Cool. You know, it’s actually my birthstone, too, from memory.’

‘I know! Perfect, isn’t it?’

‘It is.’

If only a crystal could ensure she wouldn’t be finished before she had even started. Washed-up at twenty-eight. Simona pocketed the crystal, not sure what else to do with it. ‘So tell me more about the place we’re going to. That customer from the bead shop I met once is behind the retreat programme, right?’

‘Yeah, Astrid. She’s a bit of an astrology guru, which is why I’ve been swotting up!’

Of course WHO magazine would be Nessie’s idea of hitting the books. She hadn’t even read Simona’s novel yet, even though Simona had emailed her an early copy.

Nessie pushed on. ‘Don’t freak out, but it’s going to be a bit New Agey. There’ll be morning yoga, spa treatments, island excursions, and stuff. It’s at this bluestone manor that was built in, like, the 1860s, and surrounded by vines and olive trees.’ She nudged Simona’s side. ‘The place is probably haunted.’

Simona shivered in spite of herself. ‘Jeepers, I hope not.’

It was all beginning to sound kind of odd — almost like rehab. Maybe she should have done more online research before agreeing to go. Features like a writing desk, espresso machine or an abundance of power points were sounding doubtful. Then again, maybe it was just the sort of place she needed to get away and clear her head.

On the far wall, a TV screen flashed postcard-perfect images of KI, with Famous Five-sounding names like Snug Cove and Cuttlefish Bay. Taglines such as ‘Australia’s third largest island’ and ‘the site of South Australia’s first settlement’ drifted across the bottom. At least the island setting promised to inspire.

Yawning, Simona reached for her purse and got to her feet. Immediately, she held onto the chair in front for support as the ferry swayed. The French honeymooners didn’t break their clinch. ‘I need an energy fix. Want anything from the café?’

‘What are you getting?’

‘Something salty. Potato chips maybe.’

Her friend wrinkled her snub nose. ‘Too many trans fats. If they’ve got a healthy alternative, like sweet-potato chips, though, I’m in.’

Simona refrained from rolling her eyes. ‘I’ll check.’

Nessie seemed to think they were on a luxury cruise, not a small-town ferry, coupled with the fact that she had subsisted on canapés, Red Bull and vodka until a few short weeks ago and hadn’t bothered to hand over any coins. Still, it was too early in the trip to argue — a long week stretched out ahead.

There were only three people in the queue at the ferry café: a guy in a fluoro hi-vis vest and a Japanese couple, the Japanese guy with a serious-looking camera hanging from his neck. Earth, Wind and Fire’s ‘After the Love Has Gone’ wafted from the speakers.

Waiting in line, Simona listened as the café attendant chatted with the guy in hi-vis. ‘They reckon the weather’s going to get worse by the week’s end,’ the forty-something woman said, readjusting the hairnet atop her dyed auburn crop. ‘It’ll be pretty rough on the ferry.’

Just perfect for a beach holiday — not.

The guy laughed. ‘Guess those who came over for the lunar eclipse won’t be too happy. Even if the island is the best place to view it. Hope they packed their raincoats.’

‘Too right,’ the attendant agreed.

An eclipse? The only total eclipses Simona knew about were the ones of the heart Bonnie Tyler sang about. Chasing any other kind sounded like something out of Twilight.

The hi-vis guy paid for his meat pie (with extra sauce) and left. Simona shuffled forward in the queue as the Japanese couple placed their orders.

Glancing around the packed ferry, Simona paused to check out an interesting trio, around her age, in a nearby row. A curvy, red-haired woman was sandwiched — seemingly uncomfortably — between an elegant brunette, retouching her makeup in front of a compact mirror, and a guy with a mop of unruly curls and a serious frown. The way the redhead’s eyes kept darting about was a dead giveaway to her unease. The other two had to be the woman’s partner and friend. The question was which one the redhead didn’t want along, but had been too afraid to say. Simona sure knew the feeling of three being a crowd. The only difference was that the third party driving a wedge between her and her ex had been her author aspirations, not an actual person.

The brunette crossed her legs, swinging an ankle-boot-clad foot in the aisle. Black leather, designer and gold-studded. Jealous. As Simona’s gaze moved up, she suddenly noticed a mound beneath the woman’s cowl-neck top. Now the footwear seemed ridiculous. Surely such heels weren’t safe when you were so far pregnant?

‘Next please.’

Simona’s head snapped back around. She had been too busy gawking to notice the Japanese couple disappearing. Stepping forward, she opted for a cup of hot chips, figuring she had a week at the retreat to be healthy. Then she added a bag of mango liquorice to her purchase for Nessie. It was the best she could do. The attendant rang up the total, and Simona fished in her purse for some notes. Looking up again, she found the attendant squinting at her shoulder, crinkling green eye-shadow-smeared lids.

‘Think you’ve got a travel companion there, love.’

‘Sorry?’ Simona frowned, peering in the direction the café attendant was looking. ‘Oh … ew!’

A hairy arachnid sat on her shoulder, hanging onto her top like grim death. She could almost feel its beady eyes on her. Letting out an almighty yelp, Simona frantically brushed the area with her hand, her skin prickling as she made contact with spidery legs. Finally free of it, she danced her feet around on the carpet to make sure it had gone. A blush threatened as she looked up again. Maybe she’d overreacted a little. The spider was minuscule compared to her own size, of course. Still, it made her skin crawl. Thankfully, the attendant appeared more interested in the ceiling.

‘Slippery, little things,’ the woman observed. ‘It must have swung down from its web.’

Simona laughed shakily. She didn’t dare turn around in case anyone else was looking. Dramatics were more Nessie’s territory. ‘Hope I don’t have to pay extra for it.’

The woman grinned. ‘Course not … You know, they do say that if a spider hangs down, then goes back up to the ceiling, you’re in for a run of good luck.’ Her brow furrowed. ‘Although, if the spider dangles and then drops, it can mean loss or some other personal catastrophe. That’s what I read in That’s Life magazine anyway.’

Simona’s eyes widened. ‘Don’t tell me that.’

The weeklies had a lot to answer for.

Chuckling, the woman waved a hand in the air. ‘Probably just an old wives’ tale, though.’

‘Yeah … thanks.’

As Simona moved to go, a sense of impending doom engulfed her. Suddenly, it felt as though she was being ferried to the end of the Earth, away from civilisation as she knew it. What had telly host Ajay Rochester once famously called the island? Oh, yeah. The bum’s f— end of Australia. Simona hoped the spider wasn’t a bad omen. She’d had enough rotten luck lately.

Chapter Two

Regal, rather than haunted, was how Simona would describe the two-storey Sea Star Manor, their accommodation for the next week. Wheeling her bulging suitcase, Simona craned her neck to take in the vast windows, Juliet-style balcony, and sweeping, red-roofed verandah.

The old-fashioned grandeur contrasted with the flashy Ferrari 458 Italia blocking their path on the curved, gravel driveway. Simona knew the car model because Carmine had drooled over one at a motor show. This gleaming version — red, naturally — had the numberplate LEO78. Its petrol-guzzling ability didn’t seem to fit with the healthy ethos of the spa, but maybe one of the guests liked to splash the cash.

Nessie, walking ahead with a fuchsia overnight bag in the crook of her arm, looked back, an eyebrow arched. ‘Could have told you the driver was a Leo,’ she whispered. ‘I didn’t need to read the numberplate. Leos are so flashy.’

‘Haha.’ Simona smiled in return. ‘Though it could refer to anything. The driver’s name, for example.’ Her forehead creased. ‘You know, the Ferrari aside, there weren’t many vehicles in the guests’ car park. I thought this place was meant to be fully booked, and we were lucky to squeeze in this week?’

Really, it was bad timing, being the same week as her book release and with the pressure mounting for an outline of her next offering. Unfortunately, Simona hadn’t known the release date when she had agreed to tag along.

‘There are only ten rooms.’ Nessie shrugged. ‘Guess it fills up quick.’

‘I guess,’ Simona echoed, uncertainly.

Circumventing the Ferrari, parked at its look-at-me angle, Simona stepped under the arched entryway onto the tiled porch. A wind chime clanged in the blustery weather and strands of hair whipped at her face. So much for getting her ’do professionally styled. In the distance, a rooster crowed, and beyond vines to her right a glimpse of sea beckoned.

Nessie pushed on the ornate front door. It opened with a creak. As she disappeared inside, Simona was left to struggle through with her suitcase before the door closed. Typical of Nessie to be too excited to wait.

In the slightly gloomy, high-ceilinged hallway, the statue of an angel spread its wings over an intricately carved staircase on the upper landing, and a patterned maroon runner decorated the polished floor. Nessie was already distracted, picking through flyers atop a wooden hall cabinet, her overnight bag at her feet.

‘Ours is the first room, right?’ Simona prompted her friend, as she picked up their name tags and the attached old-fashioned key from the table.

‘Hmm?’ Nessie murmured, before suddenly squealing. Simona doubted this was in response to her question. She was right. Nessie turned to wave a glossy flyer in Simona’s face. ‘Oh my gosh, they’re going to have a fire-and-ice-themed masquerade party — right here — just like on that Revenge show. It’s on Saturday, the night of the eclipse.’

‘You

Reviews for Star-crossed

[shelleyraec · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Starcrossed, by Carlo Caruso, is a contemporary romance novel mixed with suspense and magical realism.Newly divorced and struggling with writer’s block, romance author Simona Gemella agrees to accompany her best friend, Nessie, to an astrological health and wellness retreat on Kangaroo Island. Simona is hoping to relax and find inspiration for her next book, but she is unsettled by the presence of handsome marine biologist Denham Cobalt, and a series of odd, and increasingly sinister, events that begin to plague the guests at the Sea Star Manor.Written in the third person, most of the story is related through Simona, however the narrative is also shared by fellow guests at the Manor; Nessie, Raquel and Jordana, and a fifth perspective identified only as ‘Him’.Caruso gradually introduces the idea something is not quite right at the Manor, building the suspense slowly, advancing towards the showdown on the night of the ‘Blood Moon’. But while the author neatly links the fantastical elements to the retreat’s focus on astrology, I thought each of the women had a little too much going on externally, which is a distraction to the main thrust of the plot.Nessie is hiding a secret while flirting with the Yoga instructor, heavily pregnant Raquel is worried about her partner’s fidelity, and Jordana, accompanied by her husband, with his own drama, is struggling with infertility. Simona, on top of being newly divorced, suffering from writers block, and stressing over the release of her debut novel, also has to contend with the anticipation of meeting her writing ‘idol’, Astrid’s revelations, and of course, her attraction to Denham.Overall I thought Starcrossed was a quick and engaging read, but needed a little more focus.