A Cowboy Billionaire Country Star Fake Marriage (Brookside Ranch Brothers Book 3)

by Hanna Hart

  A Cowboy Billionaire Country Star Fake Marriage

  (Brookside Ranch Brothers)

  Hanna Hart

  Copyright © 2019 by Hanna Hart - All rights reserved.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

  Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

  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

  Next Book in the Series

  More By Hana Hart

  Exclusive Offer

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Phoenix

  Headlines are everything when you’re a famous country superstar. Phoenix Brooks learned the hard way that the magazines and Twitter feeds can either be your best friend or your worst nightmare, and the headlines:

  ROCKSTAR PHOENIX BROOKS WIFE LEAVES HIM FOR BROTHER

  and

  CAR CRASH NIGHTMARE AS BROOKS’ LIFE CONTINUES TO SPIRAL

  weren’t doing him any favors these days.

  Four days ago, Phoenix was driving under the influence and crashed his car into the side of a house. The car went right through the yellow siding and into a young couple’s living room.

  He pulled himself out of the wreckage, feeling a deep throbbing in both of his knees from the snap of the lower airbag.

  Thankfully, no one was hurt, and Phoenix would be able to settle outside of court. If anything, the young couple made a profit off of the accident. When you’re rich, all you have to do is throw money at a problem and it goes away.

  Phoenix didn’t remember swerving onto their property. He didn’t remember much of anything except the sickening screech of crunching steel and the airbag appearing out of nowhere.

  Aside from his bruises and a couple of stitches, the only thing that suffered was Phoenix’s car and his reputation.

  One year ago, his fiancée had a miscarriage and proceeded to leave Phoenix for his younger brother, Hunter.

  He hadn’t heard from either of them in nearly twelve months—until that morning.

  “Are you okay?” came the frantic text from Rachel, his ex.

  Seeing her name come up on his phone spread a wave of nausea through his stomach.

  He didn’t respond. He wanted her to worry. But even as he sat in a Nashville boardroom, waiting to be lectured by his closest advisors about his latest screw up, he couldn’t stop glancing down at the text.

  “Ever since your ex-wife took off, you have been a PR nightmare,” said Kelly, a woman in her mid-fifties who had been his public relations rep since day one.

  Phoenix never remembered having this many PR meetings with his team. Ever. He would do a couple a year or exchange brief texts or e-mails with members of his team to discuss charity work, appearances, and what he should say about certain events in his life—like his fiancée’s pregnancy. But having tense, in-person meetings like this was becoming more frequent, and Phoenix couldn’t say he was a fan of them.

  The first of many meetings started when Rachel left and rumors of him cheating on her with a girl from New York began floating around.

  “The good news is,” Jonathan, another member of his team, had said eagerly, “we can spin this.”

  “Spin it how?” his manager, Adam, asked, throwing a hand into the air. “The girl took off with a country star’s brother. Do you know how humiliating that is?”

  “That’s not what his millions of loyal female followers will think,” Kelly said, leaning back in her chair and lifting a finger skyward. “We’ll just have to spin it the right way. ‘Country star loses baby, wife leaves.’”

  “Fiancée,” Phoenix said quietly.

  He remembered he couldn’t focus during that meeting. He had been spinning Rachel’s engagement ring in between his thumb and middle finger, entranced by it. Months before, his mother had gone to Hunter’s ranch to try to fetch Rachel or talk some sense into her. His mother, Shannon, was a fixer—she always had been, ever since Phoenix was a little kid. So, when all she brought back to Utah was Rachel’s engagement ring, he knew the situation was dire.

  He remembered his team talking about what to do and say, and he could barely hear a word. He was transfixed, watching as the light caught against the teardrop-shaped diamond.

  Phoenix had been with his ex, Rachel, for ten years and had known her since they were children. They had almost had a child together, until she miscarried and left him for Hunter.

  It made him sick to his stomach—especially when he saw it across the headlines of the gossip columns.

  “Have you talked to her lately?” Jonathan suggested back then. “A reunion would be a win for everybody.”

  “What? Are you kidding me? I say he shouldn’t have anything to do with her,” Kelly said, frowning deeply. “She’s made a fool of him.” She looked at him and nodded, “No offense.”

  “Hey!” Adam said defensively. “Believe it or not, breakups happen in the music industry. A lot, in fact.”

  Phoenix retreated from the public eye after she ended it.

  He needed to be out of the limelight for a while. He’d been touring nonstop since his first album launched. He needed to mourn the passing of his child and the life he had planned with Rachel.

  He started writing a new album, Without You, when Rachel first left. Back then, he thought it would be an apology album. He thought his fiancée needed to blow off steam and that when she heard the songs, she would understand how he really felt and come home.

  Now it had been a year, and save for two singles, the public hadn’t heard a musical peep from Phoenix.

  But they had heard from Rachel.

  Not by choice. Rachel wasn’t a big fan of the media being in her life, but after she left, she and Hunter had bought out Hunter’s ranch, freeing themselves from the Brookside umbrella. They turned his Wyoming property into the Pierside Luxury Ranch. Piers, after Rachel’s last name.

  “This is a nightmare,” Kelly said. “We’ve spent six months working out a way to talk about the breakup to the media. Now all anybody wants to know is why.”

  “Then she comes out with a ranch with his younger brother. There are rumors about the baby. Where is the baby? Whose baby was it? Did she get rid of it?” Jonathan said absent-mindedly.

  “Get rid of it?” Phoenix repeated, disgusted. He’d seen the rumors, but he didn’t expect his team to bring them up. “She didn’t get rid of it,” he snapped. “She had a miscarriage. She’s hurting.”

  “Hey?” Adam said, snapping his fingers at Phoenix, tearing him from his thoughts.

  Phoenix blinked and looked up.

  That meeting was a year ago, and the shattering pain Rachel and Hunter left in their wake was like a humming earthquake that wouldn’t stop.

  Now he found himself at a similar PR meeting, but this time he was only with Adam. Kelly and Jonathan were nowhere to be found.

  Adam tal
ked to him about the conversation his three advisors had, brainstorming ideas about how to spin the breakup and use the miscarriage for sympathy to explain why Phoenix had yet to release his new album and why he was making so many poor decisions—like driving drunk.

  The thought made him sick to his stomach.

  His team also talked about how they could slander Hunter’s name and tout him as a backstabbing brother, a title that frankly, Phoenix would have zero problems with if it weren’t for the ranch. Even with a name change, Phoenix knew that attacking Hunter would only bring bad PR to the Brookside chain—including his own ranch.

  Phoenix Brooks had been given a unique opportunity in life. His parents, Shannon and Roger, were wealthy ranchers from Houston, Texas. They had seven children and a franchise of luxury ranches. As they reached twenty-one, each child was gifted a ranch under the family label: Brookside.

  When Phoenix was of age, his parents told him it was now his job to move to another state and officially occupy the Utah Brookside Ranch. He moved with Rachel and started making a home at the wild property.

  The ranch was all about wellness and wilderness. It had yoga retreats—his girlfriend’s specialty—as well as horseback riding, fly fishing, skiing, wildlife tours, shooting, kid’s clubs, skating, photography workshops, motorbiking, a pool, and hot tub—not to mention various tours of the beautiful Utah wilderness.

  Brookside was beautiful. And a multi-billion-dollar success. But it was never for Phoenix. Rachel fit the rancher’s life, not Phoenix. He was more interested in paying his guitar, singing, and writing music.

  Then one day, just a few years into owning the ranch, something amazing happened. Phoenix and his band got signed to a record label and had one of the most successful albums of his generation.

  Even though the ranch wasn’t his passion, he wouldn’t want his team to publicly shame Hunter and Rachel and have its blowback on the rest of his family or their businesses.

  Adam must have sensed Phoenix’s disapproval of the PR tactic, because he turned to him and set a hand on his shoulder as he said, “We can work on this; don’t worry.”

  “I am worried,” Phoenix said. “I don’t want you using my kid or smearing Rachel’s name or bringing all of this up again.”

  Adam shifted in his chair. He raised his brows and opened his palms to Phoenix as he said, “Well, unfortunately when you’re a superstar and—”

  “Whatever happened to ‘no comment?’” Phoenix asked. “If anybody asks, we say my music always tells a story. Say it’s a private matter, but the new record will give everyone a glimpse into my life.”

  Adam had also been with Phoenix since the beginning and was responsible for some of his best career moves. He was trustworthy and often right, so when he put both hands on the desk in front of him and said, “The label isn’t happy,” Phoenix couldn’t help the sense of dread that followed.

  “With the songs?” he asked.

  “No,” his manager said.

  “What...with me?”

  “They signed you as a family man,” Adam reminded him. “They took a chance on you. You were this kid with a fiancée and a baby on the way.”

  “I can’t go back in time, Adam.”

  “I know that, I know,” Adam said, nodding. “Look, nobody is blaming you for what happened. There’s just a lot going on right now.”

  “I’ve done the charity shows, I’ve done your carefully scripted interviews, I tried to get her back,” Phoenix insisted, choking back emotion and counting on his fingers as he spoke. “What do they want from me? What do they want me to do?”

  “It’s the drinking,” Adam said. “There are rumors of seeing you snorting cocaine, drinking every night. Girls.”

  “There are no girls,” Phoenix said firmly. “And no drinking. Not until the accident.”

  Adam nodded, but he was strangely business-oriented. Frankly, Phoenix wasn’t used to the professionalism. “And why is that?” his manager asked, crossing his arms curiously.

  Phoenix closed his eyes. “Rachel,” he said. “She’s engaged.”

  “What?” Adam said, blinking in surprise. “Since when?”

  “Day before the crash,” Phoenix confirmed, then quickly added. “But that doesn’t mean I want you using that against her or as some media-fodder.”

  “I know you loved her,” Adam said in an I’m leveling with you kind of tone. “I know you love her still. I loved Rachel! She was great, man. It’s a mess, what happened. I can’t imagine, and I know you’re going to need a minute to process this. I know you, kid. Do you want my advice, or should I leave you to it?”

  Phoenix shrugged. “Shoot.”

  “Your record? It’s amazing. It’s from the heart; it’s true country; it’s what your fans want to hear. The label is excited about releasing it. There’s big money here.”

  “But?” he asked.

  Adam thinned his lips. “But they’re not so excited about you. You’re unstable. You can’t seem to follow a script. You’re fixated.”

  “My kid died,” he said, and speaking the words aloud felt like some sort of betrayal against Rachel and their privacy.

  “I know, buddy.”

  “You don’t just get over that,” Phoenix swallowed.

  The room went silent and stale for so long that Phoenix wondered if his manager would ever speak again. Prompting him, he asked, “So, what? What does the team think I should do? The label hates me, so what are my options?”

  “We think you should go back to Utah, to the ranch,” Adam said.

  “What?”

  “It looks better to the public. Nashville is—”

  Before Adam could finish, Phoenix interrupted, “Where the music is. It’s where I’ve been writing.”

  “Right. But it’s a hotbed of rumors and gossip. There are girls, clubs.”

  “I’ve been writing,” he insisted.

  His eyes went large as Adam pulled up his phone, scrolled his fingers across the thick screen, and then flipped it around to show Phoenix a muted YouTube video of himself stumbling out of a country bar.

  “Looks to me like you’ve been doing other things,” Adam said with a parental scold. His manager pulled in a breath and asked, “Do you love music, Phoenix?”

  “More than anything.”

  “Then we need to fix your image. Nobody will touch you right now. You need to go back to the ranch,” he said. Phoenix went to speak, but Adam put a hand up. “It looks more wholesome. It’s what the label, and your fans, want to see.”

  “We’ve already delayed the album,” Phoenix argued, looking for any reason not to return to his marital home with Rachel.

  “The label wants to see a turnaround by spring, otherwise they’ll drop you.”

  Phoenix was incensed. “I have plenty of money,” he spat back. “I’ll self-produce.”

  “This is bigger than money,” Adam said. “You’re PR repellant. And don’t forget, part of your contract was to have the classic country image. That meant no drugs, no cheating, no ruining the production company’s reputation. When you were first signed, you were this wholesome kid from a Texas family. You were pure country. Beautiful, supportive girlfriend. Big, close-knit family. You had the horses and the music and this humble attitude. Talent from here to high heaven. You were the package. Now? Your girlfriend accuses you of cheating, we’ve got this New York rumor, no baby, then she leaves you for your brother?”

  “Rachel—” he started, but Adam shook his head.

  “I’m not finished. We’ve got your drinking and who knows what else, this attitude you’ve got lately, you’re rude to your fans, you don’t show up for gigs, you smashed your car into the front of a corner store? Nobody will touch you.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Phoenix asked.

  “Your contract renews in spring. I want you to turn it around by then, otherwise, they’ll drop you. Not only will they drop you, kid. They’ll sue you for breach of contract. That means your money, your ranch, and your
album will suffer. So, what I want you to do is go back to your ranch. I want you to get a steady girlfriend.”

  “I can’t,” he shook his head. “I’m not ready.”

  “We need a wholesome girl. A farm girl. Your high school best friend,” Adam threw out absent-mindedly. The very concept made Phoenix cringe. Rachel was his childhood friend, and look how that turned out. “I don’t care who it is; all I care about is how she makes you look.”

  Chapter Two

  Miranda

  Miranda Newton was twenty-six years old and starting a new job for just about the billionth time in her life.

  She had recently been hired by the lofty and luxurious Brookside Ranch—Utah location. It was a dude ranch that was anything but rustic. Instead of opting for the pure Western charm of other Utah ranches, Brookside was a mix of country modern with its wooden beams and dark glass walls.

  The place was so fancy, Miranda never dreamed she’d be able to work in a place like this.

  Then again, it wasn’t hard to be a maid.

  She was hired by Brookside to clean rooms. She had been partnered up with some twenty-two-year-old girl. Her name was Beth asked to be called Birdie. “It’s what all my friends call me!” the girl insisted. “And we’re going to be amazing friends.”

  Birdie was sweet and innocent as a country bumpkin. She didn’t talk about anything inappropriate, didn’t swear, and probably thought if you cut the world in half, rainbows and butterflies would shoot out of it.

  But she was nice, and for that, Miranda was grateful.

  Birdie was a jealous girl’s absolute nightmare. She was short and petite with long wavy brown hair and big eyes. She had full lips, a heart-shaped-face, and laughed at just about everything.