Tangled in Tennessee: A Tangled Series, #1

By Alexandra Holden

One summer. One city. One dream. One world famous boy band.

Mackenzie Tanner was happy to spend her summer in Nashville pursuing her dreams of making music without any interruptions—and then she met the world-famous boy band, Dear Juliet. Suddenly, Mackenzie is thrown into an adventure that has her living all of the experiences she only ever wrote songs about. A whirlwind romance and a boy who always gets what he wants turns Mackenzie's summer into the biggest, scariest adventure of her life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Inkspell Publishing
• Release date: Aug 13, 2015
• ISBN: 9781939590459

Book preview

The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, places, or events is coincidental and not intended by the author.

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If you purchase this book without a cover you should be aware that this book may have been stolen property and reported as unsold and destroyed to the publisher. In such case the author has not received any payment for this stripped book.

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Tangled in Tennessee

Copyright © 2015 Alexandra Holden

All rights reserved.

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ISBN: (ebook) 978-1-939590-45-9

Inkspell Publishing

5764 Woodbine Ave.

Pinckney, MI 48169

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Edited By Vicky Burkholder

Cover art By Najla Qamber

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This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission. The copying, scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions, and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials.  Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

Dedication

To anyone who has ever asked if I’m using my English Literature degree to go into teaching, this one is for you.

Chapter One

PresentMackenzie jogged across the black tarmac of the landing pad at the Vancouver International Airport, the rain soaking through her cotton sweater. She was used to the precipitation, and unlike most people who lived in British Columbia, she didn’t mind it at all. However, the sight of the pilot and flight attendants waiting politely outside the private jet to meet her sent her scurrying along so they could all get out of the downpour.

Miss Tanner, they greeted her.

Hi, Mackenzie grinned, unable to contain her excitement. The pilot extended his hand to help her up the steps, which she gladly accepted. Thank you.

Mackenzie wiped the rain from her face with the sleeve of her sweater as she walked onto the jet, taking in her surroundings. It was beautiful. She’d never before been on anything like it. How strange, she thought, that it was waiting for her, of all people. It was like something out of a dream. Then again, lately everything had seemed like it was out of a dream.

The interior of the jet plane was all plush and leathery, with more than enough legroom in the reclining seats. The tables weren’t plastic and collapsible like other planes she’d traveled on, but marble and set with magazines and snacks. Mackenzie thought about how hard it would be ever to ride economy again after taking a flight on such a beauty. It was going to make the ten-hour flight to London, England much more bearable.

I hope everything is to your liking, said one of the flight attendants kindly, closing the door securely behind the crew.

Mackenzie still hadn’t moved, her eyes roaming around the jet as she attempted to take it all in. She nearly laughed—it was too much, really. Beyond anything she could ever have expected. It’s wonderful, thank you.

The flight attendant smiled, probably used to people’s star-struck reactions when coming aboard. Your host is waiting for you just down the aisle. We’ll be taking off in five minutes.

Mackenzie thanked her again as she gazed down the aisle. She could just barely see the top of the man’s head, and her stomach did an instant back flip. Her excitement was swiftly swallowed up in nerves. This was it.

Mackenzie bit her lip and reached up to clutch her necklace. Her fingers brushed the pattern of butterflies and vines on the locket as she looked down at the inscription on the back of it: Do what makes you come alive.

A knowing smile came across her features, and Mackenzie took a deep breath. This trip marked the official beginning of the scariest, most wonderful adventure of her life. She had been working so hard, and it all came down to this moment.

It was going to be okay. She could do this.

She wandered down the length of the jet, marveling at how much had changed in just five short months. She had gone from completely anonymous, to someone whose name was about to be up in lights.

Mackenzie reached the man at the back of the jet and she turned on her brightest smile, hoping she could fake confidence until it finally found her again. Hi.

The man looked up from his newspaper and smiled courteously. Mackenzie Tanner, welcome aboard.

How did she ever get so lucky?

Chapter Two

Five Months Earlier

Mackenzie couldn’t believe what was happening.

Beautiful day outside, she said to the boy beside her. She stretched her arms out in front of her, hoping she didn’t smell of sweat.

Very, absolutely gorgeous, he agreed.

It’s really hot.

Mhm.

Good for running.

Yes, very. Quite challenging compared to what I’m used to, but it will be good for the ol’ lungs.

What are you used to? Mackenzie asked.

A treadmill, the boy said with a wink.

Mackenzie giggled, pulling her leg up behind her back to stretch out the warmed muscles. Her gaze flickered from the boy doing the same beside her, to the red light she was waiting at. She tried her best to act as normal as possible, not wanting it to be blindingly obvious that she recognized him.

The light turned green, the walk sign lit up, and they were off. The boy kept up a quick but steady pace, the breeze ruffling his curly brown hair. One of his iPod headphones was in, the other dangling against his chest, and Mackenzie could just barely hear Will Anderson singing through the speakers. He had good taste.

Mackenzie jogged beside him, wondering if he would turn left at the sidewalk or keep going straight. She resisted the urge to pull out her phone and begin madly texting her best friend, trying to seem as cool as a cucumber.

She was in Nashville, Tennessee, after all. She was bound to run into some celebrities. All the country artists lived here, and all the other artists wrote here. So far, she hadn’t personally met anyone major, although she had pulled up next to Charles Kelley from Lady Antebellum at a red light and almost caused a car accident. She may or may not have gotten a little too excited and punched the gas. He had only looked slightly terrified.

But this time around, it was no big deal.

Mackenzie was just jogging beside one fourth of the world famous British boy band, Dear Juliet.

As they ran beside each other in silence, Mackenzie’s legs started burning. She fought the urge to gasp for air, but her lungs were becoming tight. Sweat beaded on her forehead, dripping down the sides of her face. She gritted her teeth, refusing to wimp out. It was like gym class in junior high all over again.

Beside her, the boy angled toward the next corner. When she kept going straight, he gave her a quick wave. Enjoy your jog.

She waved back. You, too.

Mackenzie kept running, watching as he disappeared around the houses down the next street over, before she collapsed onto someone’s lawn.

"Oh my— She whipped out her phone and punched in her best friend’s number. It rang twice before Harper picked up. Mackenzie didn’t even wait for a hello before she burst out. Harper! Guess who I just ran beside."

What exactly is your problem? Harper demanded, her voice cracking from sleep. Do you know what time it is here?

You’re going to lose it, Mackenzie teased, egging her on.

Harper was not fazed. Just because you’re all cool in Nashville now does not mean you can call me at such god-forsaken hours.

William Bishop.

It is six in the morning, fool. In what universe is it socially acceptable to call someone at— Harper cut herself off. The line went deadly silent for a second. Did you just say who I think you said?

Did I say William Bishop?

No!

Yes.

Shut up!

He was close enough to sweat on me.

NO! I HATE YOU!

Want me to bottle some up for you? Mackenzie teased, sitting back up on the dewy grass.

OH MY—

Mackenzie winced as her friend began screaming profanities into the receiver. She waited patiently while Harper fan-girled herself out.

Harper was a huge Dear Juliet fan, and Mackenzie had sat through one too many car rides with Head Over Heels, their first hit single, blaring from Harper’s car speakers. That wasn’t to say that Mackenzie didn’t like the band. They seemed like nice guys, and they were undoubtedly talented. She just wasn’t sleeping outside Walmart in the middle of a blizzard to get their latest CD.

Unlike one person she knew, who was finally running out of breath in her tirade of cussing. —IMMACULATE GODS!

Quite the vocabulary you’ve got there, Harper. Are you sure you didn’t miss anything?

The rumors must be true then! I heard they were in Nashville to finish writing their third album. Those sneaky buggers!

Does this mean you’re going to fly down and stalk them?

I can’t, Harper pouted, and Mackenzie could almost see her friend shaking her fist in the air. Curse you, summer school!

Mackenzie laughed, shaking her head as she got to her feet and headed back in the direction of the house she was renting a little room in for the month. I bet now you wish you would have studied for that math final a little harder, hey?

"Mackenzie, God created the alphabet apart from numbers. That is the way divine creation intended it to be. And then some loser decided, ‘Hey, do you know what would be fun to do? Let’s put the alphabet and a bunch of numbers in a blender and create algebra.’ So now, I have to suffer for some other heathen’s mistakes. It’s like the garden of Eden 2.0."

Mackenzie laughed harder, fighting to catch her breath. Wow, I didn’t know you were so spiritual.

Math does crazy things to people, Kenz.

Well, I wish you were free to stalk ‘your boys’. I miss you.

I miss you too, Harper said quietly, sounding like she was finally settling back down into her bed. I feel like you’ve been down there for ages. How much longer until you’re home?

Four weeks, Mackenzie replied, feeling that odd combination of missing home but absolutely loving where she was.

She kept reminding herself that she’d been dreaming of this trip since she was ten years old and heard that Nashville was the promised land for songwriters. She’d been planning for the trip all through high school, working two jobs and saving every penny she had. This was her once-in-a-lifetime adventure. The potential of a career doing what she loved was riding on this trip.

In four weeks, she would be back home in boring, old Vancouver, missing Tennessee. She wanted to experience everything she could—to give it her all—and she couldn’t do that if she was a sopping mess all the time from homesickness.

So, she held herself together. She ignored the homesickness to the best of her ability and summoned all the courage she had. She would take the next four weeks one day at a time, and before she knew it, she would be getting on a plane headed back home. It was getting better, anyway. Mackenzie was settling into a routine, and routine was good. Nashville was starting to feel more and more familiar.

What’s it like down there? Harper asked, her voice becoming sleepy again. Is it everything you ever imagined?

It’s amazing, Mackenzie gushed. No matter how much she missed home, she really was having the time of her life. Now that my first co-write and performance are over, I’m not as nervous. It’s so fun to hear all this new music, and there’s so much of it. And I’ve been getting really good feedback on my songs.

That’s my girl. Harper yawned, the rustling of blankets muffling her voice. Bring home a record deal, superstar.

I’ll try, Harper. Mackenzie laughed, reaching the house and pulling out her key. I’ll let you get back to sleep. Text me when you’re done with classes, okay?

Mhm. Harper was already half asleep. Nighty-night.

Dream of William. Mackenzie chuckled, hanging up.

Mackenzie got herself a glass of water and an apple from the kitchen, then grabbed her notebook from her room and went to sit out on the back deck. Though she was only renting a room in the house, she pretty much had run of the place. All in all, it was a very nice setup. As she settled into the lawn chair for some post-run R-and-R, she thought she caught a glimpse of a familiar curly-haired boy as he jogged down the street behind hers.

Chapter Three

Mackenzie watched William jog towards her, and she felt a smile break out across her lips. They were meeting at the same red light they’d first bumped into each other at three days ago, the same red light they’d seen each other at two days ago, and the same red light they’d met at one day ago. Mackenzie wasn’t exactly sure how it had become official, but she and William Bishop had become running partners.

At first, it had been coincidence that their running routes shared paths, and they hadn’t spoken to each other past a courteous hello. Mackenzie had refrained from acting like an overly excited fan and demanding his autograph, much to Harper’s protests. She figured, if they were going to be seeing each other every day, why make things awkward?

Perhaps that was the reason William had treated her like a normal human being and not a fan. After three days of bumping into each other, he had opened the door for friendly chitchat.

William took out one of his earphones and waved. Hello again.

Hey. Mackenzie waved back. Long time, no see.

William chuckled, pulling one arm across his body and stretching it. How long has it been exactly? Twenty-four hours?

Ages, Mackenzie joked, smiling.

Ages, he agreed, and he smiled back.

In their morning conversations, Mackenzie had learned a lot about the famous William Bishop thousands of girls idolized. He was very aware of the world around him—he would always point out the strangest things on their runs—he loved the band Parachute, and he seemed to like listening more than he did talking. She also found out that he couldn’t stand the white stuff on oranges and thought that Crocs were the worst thing America ever introduced to him and his fellow Brits, though Mackenzie couldn’t remember how they’d ever gotten on the topic.

He did the majority of the songwriting for the band, a fact Mackenzie already knew from Harper’s gushing, although he liked having someone to write with more than he liked writing on his own. He said he was good at coming up with melodies, but the lyric portion was harder for him—the inverse of Mackenzie.

How was your day yesterday? he asked as the light turned green.

Busy, Mackenzie replied, falling into pace beside him. Lots of meetings and writing. What about you?

The exact same, actually. He switched sides with her, so she was running on the inside of the sidewalk, and he was near the cars, almost absentmindedly. Remind me again, have you been here before?

What a gentlemen. No, this is my first trip. What about you?

This is our first time staying here for an extended period of time. We’ve played some shows here, and I think recorded one or two songs mid-tour, but like I said—nothing substantial.

So what made you choose to spend—what is it?—a month here? Mackenzie asked.

We didn’t choose so much as we were told.

Oh... Mackenzie said, wrinkling her nose.

Yeah. William chuckled. Let’s just say that London was getting a little...out of hand. But we’ve got things fairly sorted now.

That’s good! Mackenzie encouraged.

So, are you playing any shows while you’re here? William asked, changing the subject smoothly.

Yeah, I’ve been playing out a lot.

Mackenzie had been making the rounds, playing as much as she possibly could. The audiences in Nashville were so kind, and she found that audience feedback was the best way to see if songs were connecting with more than just her and her dad, who had to say everything she wrote was the next number one hit.

I’m actually doing a set at the Rutledge tomorrow night at seven, which I’m really excited for, she added.

William was quiet for a moment, tilting his head to the side. I don’t think I’ve any plans tomorrow night. The Rutledge, you said? Perhaps I’ll stop by with my mates if we’re free. Would that be okay?

Yeah. Mackenzie grinned, forcing herself not to show how excited she was. Who cared if they were celebrities, she was just excited to be finally making friends. That would be great. Have you been to many shows since you got here?

No, unfortunately. He smiled conspiringly down at her. Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

That’s understandable. Mackenzie laughed, breathing in the heavy air. You don’t want to start a frenzy.

No, we really don’t. Though it’s hard maintaining a low profile with Jake running around like a lunatic.

Jake Turner was Brittan’s very own bona fide bad boy. He was only nineteen, but he’d already collected a long list of girls he’d been linked to. Though Mackenzie didn’t for one second believe he’d dated everyone the gossip magazines claimed he had—after all, they made their money on rumors and lies—the evidence didn’t necessarily side in his favor. Stumbling out of bars late at night with girls hanging off his arms, getting security to pull certain fans aside to meet him backstage, flirting with everything with two X chromosomes—it all gave him a very bad, yet for some reason attractive, reputation.

Jake was in the running for being Starlight magazine’s Hottest Men cover boy for the second year running, sporting perfectly styled caramel-brown hair that tried just hard enough without trying at all, eyes the color of ripe honeydew, a tall, solid frame, and hands that every girl on the planet wished to have all over her. He was dark, he was dangerous, and he had female fans and celebrities alike weak at the knees.

From what William had said about the boy, Mackenzie could only assume that the media wasn’t too far off their rockers in their branding of Jake. He sounded just as bad as they made him out to be.

That being said, she felt oddly touched that William was confiding in her like this. So he’s just as bad as they make him out to be?

Worse, William said, slowing down to a walk as they took out their water bottles. He took a big gulp from his before continuing, He’s a fantastic lad, but he does have a craving for trouble. That’s part of the reason we needed to get out of London.

Hmm, Mackenzie mused, feeling the water moisten her dry tongue and throat. Well, Nashville will be good for you guys. It’s pretty quiet here, and if you’re working on your album, there won’t be time for anyone to get in trouble.

You’d be surprised. William chuckled.

Mackenzie just laughed. How’s it coming, by the way? The album, I mean.

Really well. William screwed the lid back on his water bottle and motioned for them to continue. Mackenzie nodded, jogging back beside him. We’ve still got to write and record another six songs.

When they parted ways at the turn in the path, Mackenzie was beaming.

So many of the people she’d been working with were much older than she was, which was fine, but it was hard to relate to them sometimes. It was nice being able to chat with William—all his fame aside. She’d hoped she could make some friends while she was down there, and William seemed to be really making an effort. It