Read An Excerpt From 'Rewrite the Stars' by Lindsay Hameroff

A sparkling romance between an ex-actress and her contractor, reminding us that it’s never too late to rewrite our destiny.

Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Rewrite the Stars by Lindsay Hameroff, which releases on July 7th 2026.

Semi-retired actress Marissa Morgan has played many parts in her life. But these days, her primary role is mother of two. Since hitting pause on her career, she’s worked hard to give her kids a normal childhood and shield them from the spotlight. When her ex-husband announces his high-profile engagement and a media storm ensues, Marissa and her kids flee Los Angeles for a summer at her recently inherited Poconos lake house.

The long-vacant house needs major TLC, so Marissa hires a home renovation company. But when the project hits a snag and Marissa finds herself sharing space with the crew, including Jesse, the handsome (and vaguely familiar) foreman, her plans for a drama-free summer hit choppy water. As the summer days pass, Marissa starts centering her own needs for the first time in years—and that includes giving in to her mounting attraction to Jesse. Soon, she questions if their fling could become something more.

After an unexpected career opportunity falls into Marissa’s lap, it feels like the stars have finally aligned. But when new complications arise, Marissa and Jesse wonder how they’ll fit into each other’s future. Can the two of them chart a new course together, or is it too late to rewrite the script for a happily ever after?

Chapter 2

“Hit me.” I extend my drained wineglass toward Pooja. My best friend tilts her head and studies me appraisingly. “Hmm. How many glasses have you had?” “Anywhere between four and forty- seven. Impossible to know for certain.”

Pooja purses her lips. “All right, then. One more can’t hurt.”

She picks up the near- empty bottle of cabernet I received from a director on my twenty- first birthday and have been saving for a special occasion ever since. Having decided that abstaining from a complete mental breakdown (and averting a potential homicide) in front of my daughter’s elementary school class was as good a reason as any for celebration, she and I cracked it open immediately after putting my kids to bed.

Pooja refills my glass, then settles back against the wall of my costume closet. The space is exactly what it sounds like: a treasure trove of the wardrobe pieces I’ve kept from movies I’ve starred in, all artfully organized by the delightful women of The Home Edit. Currently, I’m in my Felicia Fox costume, which I put on every time I want to embody the ferocity of a superhero. No matter how bad reality gets, I always feel strong and impenetrable when I slip into it, even if the defined muscles in my biceps are the result of sculpted padding.

“I can’t believe he’s marrying her,” I say, staring morosely into my glass of wine. “They just got back together a few weeks ago.”

“I can’t believe she said yes,” Pooja snorts, and adjusts the spandex sleeve of her own bodysuit. A true ally, she’s also dressed in a Felicia Fox costume, only hers is the slightly altered (read: more cleavage-forward) version from the sequel, Felicia Fox: The Uprising. Why costume designers feel the need to redesign a superhero’s nipples for every movie in the franchise is truly beyond my scope of understanding.

“Rayna already called it off once,” Pooja points out. “Between you, Rocky’s gotten two of Hollywood’s most beautiful and successful women to agree to marry him thrice. What is it about this guy? Is his nutsack filled with magic beans?”

I sigh. “You know how charming he can be.” But admittedly, it is wild that they’ve gotten engaged again. R&R (as they’ve been deemed by the press) were relative unknowns when they met fifteen years ago as costars of a popular YA romance adaptation. Their on- screen chemistry was off the charts and audiences were thrilled when they got engaged shortly after filming wrapped. The wedding was slated to be the event of the decade, until Rocky called things off a week before the big day. No one knows why they broke up. Not even me. Rocky never wanted to talk about it and it wasn’t some-thing I was interested in rehashing.

When we met five years later at a Vanity Fair Oscars party, Rocky had just directed his first movie and solidified his status as Hollywood’s Next Big Thing. Rayna was newly married to the much- older producer of her latest indie project, and I was fresh off filming the third Felicia Fox movie, Felicia Fox: The Return. Rocky and I were friends at first. But eventually, friendship evolved into some-thing more. I got pregnant with Isla and Rocky proposed. In that order. I sometimes think about how different things might have been if it weren’t for Isla. Would we still have gotten married? If we didn’t have the kids, would we have stayed together for almost a decade? Then Levi got his diagnosis, and everything changed. After that, I no longer had the capacity to wonder what might have been. The only thing that mattered was what was.

“You’ve always had the worst taste in men,” Pooja laments. “Remember when you spent the entire summer of 1999 pining over Jonathan Tyler Green?” Her nose wrinkles with distaste at the mem-ory of our former-costar-turned-boy-band phenomenon. Pooja and I have been friends since we met at age twelve on the set of Little LLC, a television show about a group of kids who formed their own rock band. The show was a first role for several actors who went on to become movie stars, myself included. It was also a breeding ground for teen heartthrobs whose careers peaked at Tiger Beat stardom and who now do laxative commercials.

“He had a curtain cut and could play ‘Wonderwall’ on the guitar,” I remind her. “My hands were tied.”

“I love you, but you’re such a goddamn cliché.”

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“Says the woman who will fuck anyone bearing a passing resemblance to Timothée Chalamet.”

She sniffs. “I will not apologize for appreciating a jawline that’s sharp enough to cut and harvest ice.” She refills her own glass of wine. “Also, the man speaks French.”

I close my eyes and lean my head back against the doorframe. “He didn’t even have the decency to warn me,” I sigh. “Would it have killed him to shoot me a text and let me know what was coming? I could have at least prepared the kids.”

The whole night would have gone so differently if we’d known about the media monsoon awaiting us. I could have made a plan for Levi. His anxiety spikes when the unexpected happens. My stomach roils at the thought of the chaos that lies ahead.

“This is going to be a disaster,” I say, continuing the thought out loud. “There will be so much commotion around this wedding. You saw how many reporters were out on the street, and the news only broke two hours ago.”

I can’t say I’m surprised by the public’s excitement. The internet lost its collective mind when Rocky and Rayna were first spotted together. Rumors about a prospective recoupling sparked a fervor that eclipsed even the possibility of a Jen-and-Brad reunion. It’s been front-page news ever since.

But I didn’t think they’d get engaged. At least not this soon. And I was definitely not prepared for the media to swing its spotlight on me and the kids.