Starstruck: A Second Chance Novella: Crazy Desi Love, #3

By Falguni Kothari

Nothing is as it seems in the movie business, including the love lives of the stars.

Tania Coehlo, an A-list celebrity manager in Mumbai's Tinseltown—also known as the Piranha of Publicity—certainly has her work cut out for her as she walks into the set of the next Bollywood blockbuster, starring her client Ariana Kapoor.
Ariana is the Indian film industry's upcoming reigning queen, and her costar and fiancé is Veer Rana, a smooth-talking bad boy … and the man Tania happened to have an affair with last Christmas.

This year, Tania swears she won't fall for Veer's charming ways again. After all, he is still unavailable. Still forbidden. Still out of her league ... just like the stars glittering in Rajasthan's night sky.

But, surrounded by the provocative magic of an active film set and Veer's wicked determination to win her back, Tania finds herself starstruck all over again, risking not only her heart for a second time, but her career as well.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Falguni Kothari
• Release date: Mar 9, 2020
• ISBN: 9781944048112

Falguni Kothari

Falguni Kothari writes unconventional love stories and kick-ass fantasy tales flavored by her South Asian heritage and expat experiences. An award-winning Indian Classical, Latin and Ballroom dancer, she currently elevates her endorphin levels with Zumba. She resides in New York with her family and pooch. Connect with her at www.falgunikothari.com and sign up for her newsletter at bit.ly/FKMailingList 

Book preview

Starstruck

Starstruck

Crazy Desi Love

Falguni Kothari

Falguni Kothari

Copyright © 2020 by Falguni Kothari

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Editing by Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing

Formatting by Kate Tilton’s Author Services, LLC

For Truffles

Contents

Prologue

Scene One: Wedding Crasher

Scene Two: Clueless

Scene Three: Breakfast at Suryaganj

Scene Four: She’s Just Not That into You

Scene Five: When Tania Meets Truffles

Scene Six: Runaway Bride

Scene Seven: My Best Friend’s Wedding

Scene Eight: There’s Something about Tania

Scene Nine: Crazy, Stupid, Love

Scene Ten: Reality Bites

Scene Eleven: Pretty Woman

Scene Twelve: The Proposal

Scene Thirteen: A Midsummer Night’s Dream

Scene Fourteen: Definitely, Maybe

Scene Fifteen: Love Actually

Epilogue: The Holiday

Author’s Note

Free stories!

The Object of Your Affections

Also by Falguni Kothari

About the Author

Prologue

It was the night before Christmas…

Tania Coehlo hefted her oversized tote on her shoulder, pressed the down arrow button to call the elevator, and tried not to cringe as DJ Mickey murdered yet another Christmassy carol—her personal favorite, this time—with aplomb.

Following yonder star…chiggy chiggy chiggy boom!

Christmas in India was hot, noisy and as dystopian as the bhangra-style We Three Kings jingle-belling inside her client Ariana Kapoor’s penthouse.

Tania’s head was pounding harder than the music. She’d been battling a headache for the past three hours, but she’d borne it valiantly and without a wince. Borne it because as an A-list celebrity manager that was what she was paid to do—to sweat and toil, shield and deflect, present an exterior so shiny that it hurt the eye. And, no matter how tempting it was to fling the DJ and his music system from the thirty-fifth floor balcony of Ariana’s flat to certain sound-free death on Mumbai’s cratered roads, she’d refrained from committing the kind of mayhem she routinely begged her clients to avoid at all costs.

Not that they ever listened. Movie stars tended to not listen to advice. A good thing, too, as it kept Tania floating in scandals that needed to be swept under the rug and, hence, afloat.

Tonight, however, the glitz and glamour had been a little over the top, and she’d escaped as soon as she got what she wanted for Ariana. After seven hours of negotiating, the revised film and publicity contract for the Padmini movie franchise was duly signed and notarized by all concerned parties, and she … was … done. Off the clock for a blessed ten days, starting—she glanced at her Swarovski-rimmed wristwatch—in eight minutes when it struck midnight.

She couldn’t wait to get home and soak her aching muscles in a frothy bubble bath, then jump into bed with her trusty TV remote and vegetate. She didn’t want think about managing anything or anyone infamous until after the New Year. Blessedly, her mother’s health was stable, too, and Sonia Coehlo seemed to be in good spirits for the holidays. Tania prayed it stayed that way through the entirety of her unofficial staycation.

Unofficial because as a celebrity business and publicity manager, she could not shut off her phone completely. In fact, Tania was extra vigilant during the holiday season. Bollywood divas with more money than sense got into all kinds of crazy between Christmas and New Year. She’d dealt with wild parties, accidental suicides, grandiose proposals, clandestine affairs, shocking confessions, botched elopements, wrong gift delivered to the wrong lover, etcetera, etcetera, in her eleven-year career.

God be praised that Ariana wasn’t as nutty as some of her other clients even though she was the youngest of them all. Tania was still surprised that Ariana had agreed to put the pre-nuptial publicity agreement—for want of a better term—on hold until the actual filming of Padmini began. Though, Tania suspected the contract suspension and circumspection had more to do with Ariana’s costar-slash-fake-fiancé than heeding Tania’s counsel.

He seemed … not quite the bubblehead or junkie Bollywood’s gossip grapevine claimed he was. Which was—not her business, thought Tania, firmly suppressing any and all curiosity she felt for the man.

He could become her business, whispered the devil within her. She could sign him on as a client as Ariana and the man in question’s aging business manager so clearly wished. But, leaving aside the conflict of interest such a business triangle might trigger, Tania did not work with Bollywood bad boys. She did not trust smooth-talking, overtly pretty men. She could not trust them or herself around them. Look what they’d done to her mother—fine, her mother was equally responsible for her own tragic fate, if not more. Whatever the reason, Tania had sworn to never be in a situation that might compromise her business or her scruples. So, no working with male actors.

The elevator doors swished open, revealing a Marsala-red and festive-green interior that matched the decorations in the hallway. Putting all thoughts of movie stars and foolish acts aside, Tania ducked inside the elevator, nimbly avoiding a low-hanging wreath that had a sprig of mistletoe creeping out of it like a frostbitten tarantula.

Soon, she’d be away and safe in her manger, detoxifying the stress from her bones, she thought and pressed Lobby on the button panel.

Hold the doors, babe.

The growly order came a split second before a tall, athletic body, clothed in an electric-blue velvet tuxedo, slid into the elevator oh-so smoothly, bringing with him the scent of sin and sex.

No, no, no, no, no!

Panic shot through Tania’s chest as the doors whooshed shut, effectively cutting off the sounds of DJ Mickey’s Hot Diggity Damn remixed with Silent Night and locking her in with Ariana’s freshly pre-nuptialized fake fiancé.

She’d spent the entire night avoiding the man for this? Hot diggity damn!

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Veer Rana, Bollywood’s former teen megastar, gave Ariana’s delicious little business manager his standard supersonic smile. The one that was purported to melt the panties off any hot-blooded woman—or gay man—between the ages of thirteen and a hundred and thirteen.

A wasted effort, he realized, as his smile had no such effect on the woman in front of him. In fact, her lips twisted into an unimpressed sneer—which only made the woman more intriguing.

He’d eyed her all night long, enraptured by her big, expressive eyes and plump, quivery lips as she talked and cajoled and argued and laughed with everyone but him. He’d stared at her blatantly, studying her with stalker caliber intent, which was why he knew that he made her nervous the second she swiped her hot pink tongue over her luscious lips, no matter what her fuck-you posture suggested. He, Veer Rana, made Tania Coehlo—the most badass celebrity career manager in the Indian film fraternity—as nervous as a turtle without a shell.

Now, wasn’t that interesting?

Feeling all kinds of wicked, he stuck out his hand. Veer. You’re Tania, right? Ari introduced us earlier but we haven’t had a chance to talk. Because you’ve been avoiding me like the plague.

She shook his hand most reluctantly. Her long-suffering sigh should’ve pinched his ego, should have made him step back from her and respect her space. Fortunately for him—unfortunately for her—he felt her hand tremble against his. A dead giveaway of her nerves. He was an actor. He understood body language. He studied it. Emulated it. Used it. And, hers was sending him mixed signals. She’d been sending mixed signals all evening by watching him furtively even as she pointedly ignored him.

The elevator had barely descended two floors when it lurched