by Lisa Swinton
Contents
Blurb
Title Page
Also by Lisa Swinton
Copyright
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
Also by Lisa Swinton
Acknowledments
About the Author
He’s got the spirit of Christmas to transform her Grinch heart.
Joy’s dream of singing at the Fanstasy Music Festival is coming true…at the worst time of year. When the Southern Belles are invited to join Caldwell’s Cowboys to perform at the festival, Joy’s inner Grinch ices her heart. For her, Christmas is a time of pain, not joy, regardless of her name.
But that won’t stop Cason from trying to bring the joy of the season into her heart. He can’t resist a damsel in distress. He’ll have to work some yuletide magic to make her heart grow three sizes before the festival ends, and convince her to spend the holidays with him.
Heart of Joy
(Fantasy Music Festival Romance)
Lisa Swinton
Award-winning Author
ALSO BY LISA SWINTON
Fallen Angel
Ring on Her Finger
Vocal Crush *2016 RONE Award*
On the Corner of Heartache & Love
Silver Star *2018 Whitney Award Finalist*
12 Days to Love (A Destination of Heart Romance Book 1)
Kiss & Makeup (A Destination of Heart Romance Book 2)
Love in Bloom (A Destination of Heart Romance Book 3)
Sugar & Spice (A Heart of Romance Book 4)
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© Copyright 2019 Lisa Swinton
This is a work of fiction.
All incidents, dialog, and characters are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form whatsoever without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief passages embodied in critical reviews and articles.
Frederick, MD
http://www.lisaswinton.blogspot.com
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Cover design & copyright © by Ashley Johnson
For Collette
CHAPTER ONE
Joy scowled at the decorated Christmas trees dotting the back of the stage. Her gray duffel bag hit her thigh as she crossed the space, with the rest of the Southern Belles at her side.
“Can you believe we’re here as performers?” Tatiana gripped her arm. Her black ponytail swung in time to the bounce in her step. “And at Christmastime. It’s so magical. Our first Christmas together.”
“Uh huh.” Joy rolled her eyes, and caught sight of the Fantasy Music Festival banner hung across the ceiling at the top of the stage. Her heartbeat quickened.
“C’mon,” Tatiana said. “We’re fulfilling a dream.” An enraptured sigh escaped her dark lips.
Marcy said, “Look, I know you’re not thrilled about Christmas, but try to muster a little excitement. You look like you’re going to a funeral.”
“I’ll try.” Joy nodded as they made their way into the backstage area to stow their gear. She’d dreamed of the day the Southern Belles would be invited to the festival. But when their manager announced the invitation was at ‘the most wonderful time of year,’ Joy’s heart shriveled inside her. She didn’t do the Christmas thing. Joy kept the pain associated with the season locked up tight in a reserved corner of her twenty-one-year-old heart, and she never opened it.
With their clothes hung on the assigned rack space and their bags stowed in lock boxes marked “Southern Belles,” Joy ran her fingers down the red velvet of her costume on the hanger.
“Aren’t they perfect?” Tatiana donned the white-trimmed red Santa hat that matched the mini dress on the hanger.
“Mmm.” Joy’s skin crawled at the thought of wearing the imitation Mariah Carey Santa outfit. Slutty Santa wasn’t her thing. Santa wasn’t her thing. If she’d been a solo artist, she would have declined the festival’s invitation and asked to be part of the next one. But she was a member of a female group, and she couldn’t let her friends down. Though she still entertained the idea of ‘getting sick’ at performance time, she knew she’d never see it through. The festival was a big step in the Belles’ career.
Marcy sidled over to them. “Did you see who arrived?” She pointed at the approaching men.
“Caldwell’s Cowboys.” Tatiana’s eyes roved over the cowboys. “Those are some fine specimens coming our way. They don’t grow them like that in Atlanta.” She sniffed. “I can smell their cologne from here.”
“God bless Wyoming,” Marcy whispered. “If they breed men like that, I’m moving.”
“Stop drooling and get yourselves together,” Joy said. “Act professional. I’m sure they won’t be impressed by us.”
Marcy and Tatiana glared at her.
“I mean by me. You two will impress them easily.”
Joy furrowed her brows. The men were tall and built, and they moved as if they were more comfortable riding a horse than performing onstage. Their only distinguishing characteristics were their hair color and cowboy hats.
“Howdy, ladies. We’re Caldwell’s Cowboys.” The brunet hunk of muscle gestured to his companions. “We’re pleased to be performing at the festival with you.”
“Likewise,” Marcy said, adjusting her self-proclaimed sexy secretary black-rimmed spectacles. She didn’t need them to see. She thought they made her look more attractive. Joy disagreed.
“This is Cobalt.” Brunet gestured to the guy on his left with tawny hair. “And this is Cache.” He indicated the guy on his right, who had a cleft in his chin. “I’m Cason.”
“Aren’t your names darling,” Tatiana gushed, batting her eyelashes at the men.
Joy contained her eye roll.
“Was there a shortage of letters in Wyoming, or can you only get up to C when you go through the alphabet?” Joy crossed her arms over her chest.
Cason raised a brow. “Anything past D is superfluous.”
“Ooo, four syllables. I’m impressed.” Joy said.
Tatiana and Marcy each took hold of her arms.
“Excuse us a minute,” Marcy said, and the pair dragged Joy out of earshot of the Cowboys.
“What is wrong with you?” Marcy asked.
“They’re gorgeous,” Tatiana said. “Do you have a problem performing with super-talented man candy? They’re the fastest-rising country band at the moment. Sara Silver asked them to open for her. Those bands usually go to the top of the charts and stay there. They have lasting careers as opposed to flash-in-the-pan ones.”
Joy frowned. “We deserve to be here as much as them.”
“No, we don’t.” Marcy straightened her green sweater which played up her eyes. “We don’t have as many fans, and we haven’t been asked to open for a megastar, yet. You need to be professional now.” She poked Joy in the chest.
Feeling thoroughly wrong-footed, Joy said, “You’re right. I shouldn’t let my inner Grinch lash out at innocent bystanders.” She tugged at the sleeves of her sweater. “Let’s go, before the atmosphere turns awkward.”
“Like it’s not awkward now,” Marcy muttered.
“Dibs on the blond one,” Tatiana said. “He’s dreamy. And the way he looks in those jeans and boots . . .” She fanned herself and laughed. Tatiana was by far the most boy-crazy girl Joy had ever met. Every male was a potential target. But commitment was Tatiana’s Achilles heel and, most often, the guy’s too.
Joy suspected Tatiana would
try to pair each of their trio with a member of Caldwell’s Cowboys. Not a chance! She wasn’t about to enter a romantic relationship under the twinkle lights of a magical Christmas. Gag. She wasn’t one for sappy Christmas Hallmark movies—any Hallmark movies for that matter.
The trio rejoined the men.
“Sorry for the delay,” Joy said, pasting on a smile she didn’t feel down in her soul. “I’m Joy, and these are Marcy and Tatiana. We’re the Southern Belles. Would you like to rehearse the songs we’re doing together? Do you have time in your schedule?” She knew the Belles’ schedule by heart. They had a lot of free time. This would give the Belles plenty of time to catch other performances at the festival and get to know other musicians and make business connections. Tatiana would most likely latch onto a guy and miss all of their networking opportunities. If Tatiana could get her priorities as straight as her harmonies, the Belles would progress to the top a lot faster.
The managers were huddled in the corner of the stage talking fast and furious.
“I think so.” Cason called over to his manager to double-check their schedule. Receiving a nod, he returned his attention to the women. “We’re in.”
Joy steeled herself for the moment when the groups would sing Christmas carols together, and emotional angst would settle in. The holidays brought out the worst in her. She needed to find a way around her issues before they swamped the performances and ruined the Belle’s chances to make a good impression at the festival.
CHAPTER TWO
“What’s with the lead Belle?” Cason asked as the men moved our of earshot of the Belles to unpack and set up their equipment, while the women did the same. “Joy, was it?”
“Don’t know.” Cache shrugged. “Maybe she doesn’t like us or our music. Or maybe she doesn’t like you.” He bumped his shoulder against Cason’s.
“Everybody likes me,” Cason said, unlocking his case.
“Look, just because the girl didn’t throw herself at your feet doesn’t mean anything,” Cobalt said. “Don’t let it bruise your fragile ego.” He lifted his fiddle from the case and tuned it with an app on his phone.
“My ego isn’t fragile.” Cason removed his instrument. He didn’t want women throwing themselves at his feet, but he did like to get along with people.
“You can chase the lead if you want,” Cache said to Cason as he looped his guitar strap over his head. “I’ve got my eye on the chocolate dream—the hair, the eyes.” He strummed a chord and adjusted a string. “Plus, I think she already digs me.” He winked at Cason.
“We’re here to work,” Cason reminded his two best friends. The guys had been inseparable and—according to his mom, insufferable—buddies since third grade.
“I can mix work with pleasure,” Cache said. “I believe in a balanced life.” He shot a hundred-watt smile at Tatiana, who giggled and blushed.
“Please make him stop,” Cason groaned to Cobalt.
“Don’t you think if I could, then I would already. Let’s play.”
With a little direction from their managers, the two groups melded on the stage.
“What’s that?” Joy pointed at his instrument.
“I play the BanaStar.” Cason ran his hand reverently over the honey-colored wood with black binding. He’d roped more than a few steers in the rodeo to earn the money for this baby.
“A banister?” Joy’s forehead crinkled.
“No, a BanaStar,” he said. “It’s a cross between a banjo, a bass, and a guitar.” He strummed a chord.
“Is that even a real instrument?” She crossed her arms over her chest.
Cason frowned at her, disliking the skepticism of this attractive woman. “Yes. The BanaStar was patented in 2012 by David Ridge. It’s a totally, original modern American instrument.” He ran his hand over the W-shaped body head. “The BanaStar is what gives our group its unique sound.”
“If you say so.” She tossed her light-blonde hair over her shoulder and took her position at the microphone centered between Tatiana and Marcy.
During the Cowboys’ numbers, Cason pressed the strings harder into the frets than was necessary. What was Joy’s problem? Why did she dislike the Cowboys so much? Was it because of their fast-tracked career? The Cowboys hadn’t been looking for rising stardom. It had sort of fallen into their lap. Or was it just him she disapproved of?
While the Belles sang their numbers, Cason was impressed by their tight harmonies. Their voices blended seamlessly. If Joy could get that enormous chip off her shoulder, the women had a good chance of making a consistent career in the music business.
When the managers directed the groups to work on the Christmas carols they’d perform together, Joy grimaced.
“We can take a break if you’re tired,” Cason said, in case fatigue was the cause of her frown.
“We can go as long as you,” Joy shot back. “We’re not weak women in need of rescuing.”
Marcy dug an elbow into Joy’s side. “How about a five-minute break to use the bathroom and grab some water? We’re looking forward to the Christmas songs.”
Cason nodded. The members broke off. From the corner of his eye he saw Cache say something to Tatiana. She laughed and laid a hand on his arm. Flirting was in full swing. Cache, always the ladies’ man. Cason pursed his lips. He didn’t need Cache’s romantic fling messing up their working relationship with the Belles. He’d give Cache another talking to and hope the message sank in this time.
Broken-heart ballads sold albums, but a reputation for leaving a trail of broken hearts in Caldwell’s Cowboys wake wasn’t in the band’s best interest. That kind of reputation could cause problems with their progression, and he didn’t want such negativity to get back to Sara Silver. Opening for her was a great honor and a boost to their career. He couldn’t let Cache mess that up.
“We’re ready,” Joy said, pulling Cason from his thoughts, though her expression indicated the opposite.
“Right.” He checked the set sheet the manager had handed him. “‘Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree’ is at the top. You want first verse?”
“Fine,” Joy said through tight lips. She took clipped steps back to the microphone at the other end of the stage. The groups were angled in a V, so they could interact with each other and the audience.
The Cowboys gave an intro, and then the Belles took over on vocals. With each lyric, Joy’s countenance grew stormier, and the misery in her eyes greater. Her movements grew stiffer.
When the Cowboys took the second verse, Cason watched as Joy strove to get her emotions under control.
The song ended, and Cason went to approach Joy, but Marcy and Tatiana pulled her away into a hushed conversation.
“What’s next?” Marcy called out from the huddle.
“‘All I Want for Christmas is You,’” Cason replied.
Joy’s face crumpled. She tapped Marcy on the shoulder, and whispered something. Back at the microphones the women switched spots, with Marcy in the center.
Something was up with Joy. Cason couldn’t bear watching anyone be sad or in pain—people or animals. He determined that after rehearsal, he’d find out what the problem was and fix it.
The Belles’ vocals lost their luster as the song progressed. His ears told him Joy had gone into mechanical mode. She wasn’t singing with the same verve and soul as before.
All of their performances would suffer if she couldn’t catch the Christmas spirit and infuse it into her voice. Less than their best wasn’t an option. Cason’s father had drilled that principle into him every day of his life on the ranch. Didn’t matter if he was branding a horse or mastering calculus, his best was always required.
When the song was over, Tatiana asked, “And the last one?”
“‘I’ll be Home for Christmas,’” he said. “Okay if we take the first verse?”
Tatiana gave a thumbs-up, and then the women changed spots to form a triangle, with Marcy and Tatiana as the base up front and Joy tucked in the back as the point.
Marcy and Tatiana carried the Belles through to the end, but Joy captured Cason’s attention and growing concern. Maybe she was ill, but she’d seemed perfectly fine until they started the carols. Well, if you classified snappy and standoffish as fine.
“Sounds good.” Cason’s manager clapped him on the back. “You boys get some grub and catch a show. Be back at the hotel by eleven or I’ll call your mamas.” He guffawed and sauntered out, chatting with the Belles’ manager.
“Food sounds good,” Cobalt said, stowing his instrument.
“I could eat,” Cache added.
“Should we invite the Belles?” Cason asked.
“Tatiana and Marcy are alright,” Cache said. “But Joy is a buzzkill, man.”
“Maybe she’s having a bad day,” Cason offered. “We all get out of sorts from time to time.”
Cache rubbed his chin. “I don’t know. She gives off a crazytown vibe. Tatiana on the other hand . . .” He grinned.
Before they could come to a consensus, Cobalt yelled to the women, “Y’all wanna get some dinner?”
“Sure!” Tatiana flashed a smile. “Be ready in a minute.”
“More like ten,” Cobalt joked. “Women are never ready when they say they’ll be.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Cache agreed.
Even with instruments to wipe down and put away, the men were still ready before the women.
“C’mon Tatiana.” Cache waved his hat at her.
She giggled and pulled Marcy and Joy along with her.
“Where should we go?” Tatiana asked. “Has anyone been to Branson before?”
Cason raised his hand. “Ruby’s Diner is around the corner. Best corn fritters ever.”