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    It's a Wonderful Lie: A Curious Cat Mystery Prequel
    It's a Wonderful Lie: A Curious Cat Mystery Prequel
    It's a Wonderful Lie: A Curious Cat Mystery Prequel
    Ebook70 pages58 minutes

    It's a Wonderful Lie: A Curious Cat Mystery Prequel

    By Carolyn Scott

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    About this ebook

    Hollywood is full of fakes. Some are just more obvious than others.

    Like almost everyone in L.A., Cat Sinclair is an actress. Sometimes. When the roles are scarce, she works as a temp waitress for anyone who will pay. But taking a job for producer Angela Levine means she needs to polish up more than her acting skills. In a night where jewelry is stolen, affairs are exposed and liars are everywhere, it's left to Cat to unravel the truth.

    IT’S A WONDERFUL LIE is a prequel short story to the Curious Cat Mystery series, starring Cat Sinclair, the ex-actress, wannabe P.I. and terrible secretary who likes to drive her sexy boss crazy. The story takes place when Cat is still living the dream in Hollywood. Only sometimes that dream turns into a nightmare. At 14,000 words, IT’S A WONDERFUL LIE is a quick read to introduce you to the first book in the series, REBEL WITHOUT A CLUE.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherOz Books
    Release dateJun 1, 2020
    ISBN9780463636855
    It's a Wonderful Lie: A Curious Cat Mystery Prequel
    Author

    Carolyn Scott

    Carolyn Scott has published contemporary short stories in women's magazines on two continents including Take A Break, Woman's Day and That's Life. She has at various times worked as a librarian, IT support person and technical writer but in her heart has always been a fiction writer.Carolyn spent her early childhood in the dramatic beauty of outback Queensland, Australia, but now lives in suburban Melbourne with her husband and two children.She also writes historical romances under the name C.J. Archer. You can find out more about C.J.'s books at her blog: http://cjarcher.blogspot.com.au/

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      Book preview

      It's a Wonderful Lie - Carolyn Scott

      Chapter 1

      I couldn't believe my luck when I scored a job working for one of Hollywood's biggest producers. It was only a temp waitressing position for her big party and not a part in her next movie, but it was better than scrubbing the toilets. Even I had a limit on how low I'd sink. When I moved to Hollywood some seven years ago, I'd vowed never to do two things—fuck the producers or clean for them. One of those things I'd done, but he'd been hot, single, and the movie part he gave me had no lines. No one could claim I'd slept with him to get it.

      There would be no sleeping with Angela Levine either. Neither of us bent that way, and besides, she had one of the hottest husbands in Hollywood. By all accounts, Dante Ramirez was amazing in bed. Ask almost any starlet. He'd slept with dozens apparently, and not all of them before he got married. None of his conquests would tell Angela to her face though, or they’d risk never working in Hollywood again. Believe it or not, there are some producers who still use that phrase—You'll never work in this town again! Probably more out of nostalgia than any real intention of going through with the threat.

      I smiled my way past the throng of guests congregated in Angela's Maple Drive mansion and spilling out onto her back porch. Some plucked champagne glasses off my tray or gave me their empty ones. One pinched my ass. None returned my smile.

      The party was only two hours old, but already some of the freeloaders were well on their way to getting drunk. Another two hours and it would get messy. Lucky for me and the other wait staff—we got to stay until the end and see who embarrassed themselves. It was one of the few perks of doing temp waiting work for the big names. Believe me, there weren't many others. I certainly hadn't heard of anyone scoring a big role out of doing this. The most anyone had ever gotten was an STD after sleeping with one of the guests. We lowly extras had to get our amusements where we could, and watching the stars make fools of themselves was one of life's free pleasures.

      Excuse me, Cat, whispered a thickly accented voice. I turned to see Sofia, one of the other waitresses, sidling up to me. She pretended to rearrange the glasses on her tray while I kept my gaze peeled for Angela. Our employer was not known to be kind to idle staff.

      Everything okay? I asked.

      Sofia was a beautiful young Mexican woman keen to be the next Salma Hayek. She could do it too, with that gorgeous figure and the most soulful eyes I'd ever seen. All she needed was to improve her English and the right role would come her way. I was sure of it and I'd told her so when I met her at the beginning of the night. I'd also told her that she looked familiar, but after tossing around several of our previous credits, we hadn’t figured out a connection.

      She tucked her hair back and touched her earlobe. It seemed to be a nervous habit of hers. The Ev-ster wishes to see you, she said.

      Hearing Sofia call him 'The Ev-ster' in her formal, accented English made me smile. It sounded wrong, like mixing caviar with peanut butter.

      The Ev-ster was Evan, my ex. We'd dated a couple of years ago, back when he still possessed a handful of brain cells. He'd also scored a job working as Angela's kitchen hand for the party, although why anyone would let him near hot things and knives was a mystery. He was more likely to use the stove to light up a joint.

      What are you two doing? snapped Angela, coming up behind us. Damn. I should have been more alert. You're here to work, not talk. There are people down by the pool without drinks. Serve them.

      Sofia lowered her head. "Si, Mrs. Levine. So sorry, Mrs. Levine."

      "It's Ms."

      "Si, Ms. Levine." Sofia tucked her hair behind her ear again. The gemstones in her earrings sparkled in the low light.

      Angela's eyes narrowed. Her nostrils flared as she squared her shoulders in defiance. I got the impression Sofia's youth and beauty threatened Angela, despite her expensive cocktail dress that showed off a trim figure. Sofia and I wore conservative black maids' outfits that she somehow managed to make look sexy. Mine was too big and hung like a sack on my thin frame.

      I'd always thought Angela attractive for a woman in her mid-forties, but ever since meeting her that afternoon, I'd changed my mind. She may have had a great body, enhanced by the dress, but she had a tight slit of a

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