Taylor’s Legendary Heart: Sweethearts of Country Music, Book 2 Read online

  Taylor’s Legendary Heart

  Sweethearts of Country Music, Book 2

  Victoria Pinder

  ©2019, Victoria Pinder

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.

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

  No part of this work may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.

  While this novel is a work of fiction, the author respectfully and fictitiously used real locations, businesses, music venues, television shows, awards, song titles, social media networks, streaming services, and music media networks throughout the story for entertainment purposes. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The publication and use of these trademarks are not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  SWEET PROMISE PRESS

  PO BOX 72

  BRIGHTON, MI 48116

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek

  More from Sweet Promise Press

  More from this Series

  About the Author

  1

  You told me I'm not good enough for you…

  Their successful song replayed in Taylor Jones’ head.

  Success.

  Finally. The Lipstick Outlaws were on their way.

  Rissa had been right. Teaming up in an all-girl country-band was amazing and the kickstart for their careers.

  For years she’d only wished to prove that she had talent and now here she was. Cowriting songs with some of her band members and earning their success together, as a team.

  Her stomach rumbled and she wiped the bathroom mirror, fogged from her shower.

  The hotel was four stars, separate rooms, and all paid for by the record label. No more shared motel rooms where all six of them squeezed in together to save cash.

  She hummed the melody and towel-dried her long blonde hair, then slipped into her pressed ripped jeans, her pink t-shirt with hearts, and her matching heart belt buckle. Last were her new snakeskin boots—she’d earned spending money for playing the piano and singing backup.

  Something she’d written had actually made her money. Her stomach gave another grumble, wishing for coffee and waffles to start the day.

  Time to hit the buffet.

  As she headed toward the door, her phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID. Normally she ignored random numbers, but it was a home Nashville number and seemed familiar. She answered and a male voice said, “Tay Tay.”

  Adrenaline coursed through her. She pivoted on her white snakeskin cowboy boots from the door and paced toward the window. If Keith ever came near her again, she’d… well she’d tell him to his face to leave her alone. She crossed her free arm over her belt buckle. “How did you get my new number?”

  No. Her voice had a hint of weak there at the end. Ugh!

  Keith answered smugly, “Mrs. Smith from your church group.”

  “She should have known better,” she said but instantly regretted the words. Mrs. Smith had had gall bladder surgery last month and Taylor had only called once to check on her. In Taylor’s defense, she’d left the church choir officially three months ago to begin the tour with Miranda Lambert, the Lipstick Outlaws being the opening act.

  “I told her that you should marry me.”

  Keith had always been a thief and a liar. She stared out the window toward the clear blue sky. Her ex had zero right to talk like that. Mrs. Smith was the salt of the earth type who’d pretty much told Taylor every day they’d spent together to never think about Keith again. “Don’t make fun of my church friends. You lied to her, obviously.”

  “Whatever, Taylor. You used to love me.”

  The girl he referred to had been another person.

  When she closed her eyes and imagined her old self, in New York, it wasn’t Keith that came to mind, but her best friend, Eddie.

  They'd shared a dorm, but he hated mornings, so she’d knock on his door and tell him to get moving, then they'd get a muffin and head to class. She'd been so young and innocent, first at Walnut Hill School for the Arts, and then Julliard.

  Taylor turned away from the window and said to Keith, “I thought I did. Why are you calling me?”

  “I’m having my lawyers sue you over that song you wrote?”

  The song she wrote never mentioned him. Or anything about him. Not his dark hair or devilish smile.

  Not how he'd ditched her at a gas station in the middle of nowhere, without a dime in her pockets.

  Heartbreak and an ex in lyrics were very common and she'd been careful not to mention his name. Sued? When he'd stolen her notebook of songs to hit the charts himself? “What?”

  “You’re profiting off my name, Tay Tay. That song wouldn’t be number one without my fame, and that you used to be mine.”

  No one called her a nickname. Ever. Taylor was fine. And Keith wouldn’t be famous right now without the songs she'd written--she had no proof, which was why she hadn't stopped him. She'd been a lovesick, stupid girl who had learned a tough lesson. “I’m not yours. The song doesn’t mention you. You don’t get anything.”

  “Half the earnings of that song,” Keith said.

  Her blood stirred. She’d have to face Rissa, C.C., Mac, Cinnamon and Katie Lyn, and let her band know about Keith's threats.

  Her mother had always said, "When you admit something, have a plan of action to fix what you’d done wrong…”

  She would tell her bandmates about his threats, and together they’d figure how to neutralize Keith’s threats.

  Her mother hadn’t spoken to her all year, since Taylor had dared to join a country rock band and decided to live on her own thousands of miles from Denver, yet the voice was still clear as day. “Goodbye, Keith. Don’t call me again.”

  Without another word she hung up and flipped on the lights near the bed.

  She needed a plan.

  Now.

  If she called Val, their manager, she’d admit right off that she was thinking about Keith, and the rest of ex-boyfriends, all together, and warred with Rissa, who had also had a broken heart of her own when they’d worked on that song, about how she’d moved to Nashville with a broken heart. Rissa had recently found her happily-ever-after with Jake, but Taylor would stick to her vow of no dating for as long as she was in the Lipstick Outlaws.

  Besides, her song wasn’t about that… that man. It was about every man she’d ever made mistakes with.

  Her face was hot, but she flipped through her phone and realized she'd missed a c
all last night.

  Eddie Williams.

  He used to give her a chocolate chip muffin and shy smile to make her forget whatever she’d been upset about. Now he deserved every success, ever. She immediately called him back and fell onto her bed, face first with her legs kicking behind her. On the first ring she heard a click and she said like she’d just been saved, “Eddie, you answered.”

  His voice was still the same dreamy one she remembered as he said, “Taylor, it’s been a long time.”

  Three years, but that British accent of his made her muscles relax like he was here with her and might hug her through the phone. She sat up. “I’m so happy to hear your voice.”

  “I wished you’d called.”

  “Doubtful, Eddie. I wish you were here.”

  “Why?”

  “I need help with something—I’ll talk to my bandmates though since you’re super famous now and all.”

  “So, you noticed,” Eddie said.

  He was very successful and his song, “The One” haunted her dreams sometimes. Who knew growing up that he’d be that guy’s voice that made her weak in the knees?

  He’d just been… her friend. She tugged her ear and put him on speaker as she was alone in her room. “Of course. Your name is all over the pop charts.”

  Seven times off his latest album and every time he was number one.

  “But you didn’t call to congratulate me.”

  She hadn’t called because he’d offer her a job as a backup singer, or worse, an assistant to fetch him a jelly donut and a coffee because they’d gone to school together, and he pitied her.

  No. Her cheeks burned as she settled her back against the headboard and smoothed the soft white hotel comforter. “I wanted to, a lot, to be honest. I miss hanging out with you.”

  “I miss you too.” His voice had that same whisper to her heart that his song had. “What did you need help with?”

  She hadn’t expected her heart to stir like this.

  And she had no right to ask him anything now, though they used to talk for hours and he’d give her the best advice. Ever. She should have listened to him more and not hopped into the wrong guy’s car years ago. She hugged her knees. “I don’t want to bother you….”

  “What’s going on?” He sounded grave, without his playfulness.

  She wished she never had to say the name again. Eddie had told her not to date Keith back in New York, before both the men in her old life became famous, leaving her in the dust, until now.

  Taylor had her girls to bolster her up so could tell Eddie without accepting pity. She let out a sigh. “Keith.”

  His answering sigh told her plenty. Eddie hated Keith still. She massaged her temples as Eddie said, “I thought you were done dating him.”

  Taylor stood up. If Eddie was close, she’d… well she’d take his hands and press them to her heart, so he'd know she was speaking the truth. She imagined him here with her. “I was. I am. He was a long time ago.”

  Eddie tapped something, probably his piano. As teenagers he’d never been far from his keyboard for long; though he was the prodigy who played almost all instruments.

  They’d jammed many nights until dawn. “Then what’s going on? You should be thrilled and happy at your overnight success.”

  Last night she’d been with her bandmates celebrating at an all-night diner. The morning sun beamed into her now bright room and she pressed her hand to the window pane as she said, “It was hardly overnight. We’ve been at this for a few months as a group though I’ve been trying on my own since I moved to Nashville. But to really get success, we need more than one hit.”

  “Do you want to collaborate?” Eddie asked.

  Another memory of working late on piano compositions came to her when they’d both been in high school doing homework on experimental music.

  Now she had Rissa and her band. She relaxed as she said, “No. I want the name of a good lawyer.”

  Eddie turned very serious. “Why?”

  At least Eddie wouldn't tell her “don’t worry” and “let me handle everything.” Eddie had never patronized her like her parents always had. “Keith wants to sue me.”

  “Over what?”

  Her song lyrics were about a hot man's jeans, and how he’d never left her feeling calm or easy, which was what she’d thought excitement was once. Now she knew she’d been chasing adrenaline. “He says our hit song is about him.”

  Eddie said, “There is nothing concrete saying Keith Fine is in your song. Country music is often about heartbreak, and you kept it generic, so the song could belong to everybody.”

  Goodness. It was like no time had passed and he was here, her best friend. She closed her eyes and imagined his voice over her Alexa that blared his music while she washed dishes as she said, “You've heard my song?”

  “I listen to it every night. I miss hearing your voice telling me what to do.”

  A laugh escaped her throat. She hadn't told him what… okay, maybe she’d taken his fake ID from him once, and tossed it in the shredder. Then there was the time she'd forced him to write a song… for class. Her face turned red.

  She’d been a serious brat as a teenager who’d known her musical future was a sure thing. “Sorry. If I didn’t, you’d have missed composition class and then you’d be out of work instead of headlining your own tour around the world.”

  He laughed and she recalled how he used to toss a ball in the air then catch it to help him think. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

  “You too. It’s been too long.” His hug would be good to have. She hadn’t realized how much she'd missed him, until now. The three years after college had flown by so fast.

  “Entirely your fault as you didn’t call me back earlier,” he said.

  Right. Her missed call last night. But she’d had a cast party with the label and then her girls. “I heard your message but couldn’t leave my band to go to your concert in town last night.”

  “I dedicated it to you.”

  “As you tell all the girls,” she answered fast. His pay-per-view concert had been dedicated to some girl named Megan.

  “Taylor, are you still in Memphis?”

  Her entire body stilled though her skin was alive and jumpy just from hearing his voice again. “Yeah, we go to our next stop on the tour in a few days. Miranda needed to head to the CMAs.”

  “Then meet me for breakfast.”

  She pressed her hand to her heart and felt its rapid beating.

  Eddie must be joking. She took a deep breath and asked, “What? Aren’t you in Japan or somewhere half the world away?”

  “No. My label has an event and I’m here.”

  Here. Still in Memphis. She ran her hand through her wet hair and wished she somehow had hair and makeup teams at her suite and not just for the stage.

  But that was silly. Eddie knew what she looked like. “You should have told me.”

  “You should’ve answered.” Ouch. If words were bullets, he'd hit her heart. He quickly said, “I’ll bring lawyer recommendations.”

  And there he was. Her best friend. The boy she’d loved to eat ice cream sundaes in the park with. She relaxed. He wouldn't care that she didn’t look like a diva. “Seriously Eddie, you’re the best.”

  “Meet me in the lobby in ten minutes," he said. "We’re in the same hotel.”

  “See you then.”

  They each hung up and she glanced at the pool view outside her window, below.

  How would he know where she was staying? She let out a sigh. Producers talked and even Val would want to work with Eddie Williams' team, so if he'd asked around, he could have found her.

  She picked up her room key, squeezed her cheeks and decided at the last second to brush her hair. There--she almost looked like the girl from Julliard who used to drag him to breakfast.

  Her nails were painted the same glitter color as the day she’d graduated.

  As she stepped out into the hotel hallway, she saw the room next to hers
had the door ajar. Someone must have left Rissa’s room. Room service, maybe?

  She had a minute, so she knocked on the door and popped her head into the room.

  Her best friend, and band leader, Rissa sat on the edge of her bed strumming her acoustic guitar. Her dark brown hair was tugged into a ponytail—she stopped playing when Taylor entered. Remembering Keith and his promise to sue, she swallowed hard and wished everything was fine, but met her friend’s brown eyes. “Rissa, we need to talk.”

  Rissa put her guitar to the side and stood, wiping her hands on her jeans. “What’s going on?”

  No beating around the bush. Taylor braced her legs and said, “Keith is threatening to sue me, saying our hit is about him.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” Rissa shook her head. “Nothing even references him.”

  True. Not one note, but Taylor shrugged. “I’ll pay for the lawsuit expenses if necessary.”

  Rissa shrugged and picked up her breakfast tray, offering a second cup of coffee to her, which Taylor accepted. “I’m sure Val and the label can take care this.”

  Taylor glanced at Rissa’s bare feet; black polish shiny against the hotel’s blue rug. “I’m going to talk to Eddie Williams about getting a decent lawyer.”

  Rissa brushed her arm. Taylor looked up to see the gleam in her friend’s gaze as she asked, “Eddie Williams? The Eddie Williams with seven pop songs in a row to reach number one?”

  His new record had seven to strike the top, but the previous album had two big hits. All while Taylor had done nothing but play in churches, bars, and open night clubs, until Rissa had invited her into the all-girl band. She tugged her ear and said, “Nine, but yeah we went to school together.”

  Rissa sat on her chair with her coffee. “You never mentioned that.”