Christmas Carols for the Billionaire: Christmas Miracles, #3

By April Murdock

Mitch Blankenship has just stumbled on to the next big thing in country music. Expanding the family business from LA to Nashville was a huge part of meeting his personal goal of representing a Grand Ole Opry artist. And the sister duo he's just found will get that ball rolling.

Norah Hobert's job is pretty easy and fun most of the time. Stylist and event planner for the Braden sisters gives her exposure to the exciting music industry and challenges that are usually interesting to figure out. To her dismay it looks like a fair bit of the fun might be taken away now that the duo is getting the attention they'd been working so hard to create.

Norah dislikes Mitch almost on sight. She wonders what makes him so grumpy and disagreeable at such a young age. It's obvious he doesn't have time for anyone in a support role – he only cares about the two money-makers he's about to sign. The whole thing makes her ill.

Mitch stands firm in his decision about the first album. Christmas music is the reward for a successful career and can't be their first album. The tried and true is his final word and that's that. When Norah butts in with an idea that could please everyone, Mitch resents it but has to agree her idea could work.

As Norah begins to see a softer side of Mitch, he becomes her former favorite grumpy pants. While she falls in love, he's nicer but oblivious to her feelings. Too many roadblocks mean this relationship just isn't meant to be.

Can the true spirit of Christmas and the joy of carols pull them together before it's too late?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sweet River Publishing
• Release date: Nov 16, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223960478

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Mitch Blankenship pushed a hand through his hair as he looked out at his new city from in front of Studio C414 downtown. I made it here, Pop, he murmured under his breath. Thanks for showing me all I need to know.

Nashville, Tennessee might reside in a different part of the country from his home in Los Angeles, but Mitch knew in his bones this was where he needed to be. As he waited outside his newly leased luxury production studio and office space for his newest clients, he could see a lot right there at the street level. There were museums, national historic landmarks, the Tennessee Sports Hall of Fame, and a myriad of restaurants within walking distance.

Even more enchanting was that this area had all four seasons. Since it was late September, the entirety of Nashville had been decked out like a debutante going to a ball. The trees and shrubbery alongside the sidewalks and in every park had turned golden, orange, and deep violet. It was magical and something that SoCal, much as he loved it, didn’t have. The days remained warm just like at home, but the evenings cooled a bit after sundown, making it mild enough to sit outside without sweltering. Mitch was really enjoying the change.

Like L.A., Nashville had its fair share of towering buildings—not as many to be sure, but the place still had its own skyline—and a few were quite distinctive. Once he went up to his new office space, he knew he’d be able to spot the AT&T Building, a behemoth of a structure with its two spires pointing into the heavens like some mythical dual-horned beast. The Korean Veterans Memorial Bridge with its classical curved arch reflecting in the waters of the Cumberland River. And the gleaming silver monolith of the 505, a residential skyscraper made up of forty-five stories.

Still, the vibe here was different. He didn’t know how to describe it. Closer, maybe. More touchable and attainable. Where parts of L.A. seemed like the exclusive territories of the outrageously affluent or other parts were probably best to be avoided altogether for safety’s sake, here nothing felt off limits. Of course, Mitch could certainly be considered outrageously affluent in his own right, not that he liked to think about himself and his family that way.

Maybe that description bothered him because the Blankenships were far from old money. His dad had come to the San Fernando Valley in California at seventeen from Wyoming pretty much penniless. He’d started as a nobody mailroom worker in a huge company of music executives, but had one day had an idea he’d shared with one of the lower-level execs. The idea had been gold, and rather than ripping his dad off—as had been known to happen in that cutthroat world—the guy had befriended him. Frank Blankenship had then gone from nobody to somebody, and over the years, he’d networked and schmoozed his way to the top.

Along that journey he’d met and married one Ruby Evans and had Mitch and his older brother Luke. Luke had cut his teeth in the music industry, and even though Mitch was nine years younger, he’d planned to do the same. Unfortunately, when Mitch was eighteen and ready to take on the business by storm, his beloved parents were involved in a nasty multi-car pileup on the Grapevine. Fifty-five people had died that day including Frank and Ruby Blankenship. Mitch had always been close to his folks, especially his dad, and having them wrenched away so young had been devastating. The good news—and news that he told no one—was that he frequently had dreams where his father guided him into making certain decisions.

At first, he’d thought the dreams to be nothing more than wish fulfillment. He missed his dad, so he dreamed about him being there. But once, while trying to make a big decision, he woke up feeling strongly that he needed to move in a very specific direction. He’d also been able to smell Frank Blankenship’s Blue Aqua Velva cologne. Mitch had followed that path, and it’d been so fruitful that it’d started him on an upwards trajectory in his career. Now, whenever facing a crossroads, he waited for some sign to appear in his nightly imaginings to set him straight.

He’d come to Nashville because he kept having dreams about the Grand Ole Opry. Considering Blankenship Music didn’t even handle country as a genre, this stuck out to him like a sore thumb. Still, knowing to not look a gift horse in the mouth, he’d gone with it. On his first visit while eating lunch, he’d been annoyed by a few high school kids playing something too loudly on their phones. Irritated by them, he’d considered leaving when whatever they’d been playing switched to something else, and he heard music that made the hair rise on the back of his neck. It was a country love song cover sung acapella, the harmony haunting and beautiful, and from voices he was certain he’d never heard before.

What are you watching? he asked the kids, and at first, they’d just thrown him a bunch of stink eyes. He gentled his tone, knowing he tended to come across as having a grouchy disposition. Still, like his dad and mentor, Mitch knew how to network when the occasion warranted it. I like the music is all. It’s pretty.

One of the girls turned toward him and displayed what they’d all been watching on their screens. It’s a Musictok video.

Fully aware that he probably sounded like an old fogey to her even though he was only twenty-eight, he plastered on his most humble and charming grin and asked, Musictok?

Yeah. You know, like on Tiktok?

Oh, sure. He’d heard of the app enough to know it was all the rage with the tween and teen set. Can you share the handles of whoever was singing that last song?

Sure. The Bradens, she said, just as her group of friends stood as a unit to leave. GTG.

GTG? he asked her, baffled.

Gotta go.

Ah. Got to go equaled GTG. Made sense. Thanks for the info.

She wiggled her fingers in a fleeting wave then disappeared with the gaggle of teens. He’d quickly downloaded the app, used the discover function to locate the Bradens, and listened to everything on their channel. Not only did they perform some songs sans instruments, they also did upbeat rockabilly style stuff that incorporated a banjo and a fiddle. Even though he listened to musicians of various levels of talent day in and day out, he found himself bopping his head and tapping his toes. He hadn’t needed Frank Blankenship’s guidance on this one. His gut had told him he needed to sign these two young women immediately. And right then, a yellow cab pulled up to the curb next to him and let them out.

Good afternoon, ladies.

Hey there, Mitch, Jade Braden, the eldest of the sister duo, greeted him enthusiastically in her lilting Tennessee accent. She lifted her banjo case out with her, the hard sides painted rather childishly with flowers and the name Jenny.

He’d seen them perform live once and had spoken to them via Zoom a dozen times, but this was the first time he’d noticed her case.

Jenny? he asked, running a palm over his hair.

She lifted her case to eyelevel. My banjo, of course. Just don’t ask about Serena’s fiddle.

He smirked at her. It was clear she wanted him to inquire about it. You know I have to ask now.

He’s Kenny.

Let me get this straight. Your instruments are called Jenny and Kenny?

Yep, she confirmed, her eyes sparkling. You gotta remember than Serena and I started playing as little kids. We were fickle about taking our lessons sometimes, so our granny told us that Jenny and Kenny were a couple and that playing them made them happy. We were young enough that her tale totally worked on us. It seemed wrong for Serena and me to keep them apart. They are soulmates after all.

Wow, he said, but internally, he latched onto the idea of her sharing that story in interviews to media outlets far and wide. She’d already told him about their single mother dying due to complications with Serena’s birth and being raised by their grandmother. Their grandmother had passed a year ago, and they dedicated every performance to her. The story was poignant yet delightful, and he knew journalists would eat it up.

Also, since Jade had straight blonde hair and a willowy figure, she could wear nearly anything and make it work to her advantage. She had a great presence on stage, and her looks and slender physique would feature nicely on ads, merch, digital album covers, and magazine photoshoots. The younger Braden, Serena, was also marketable. She might lack the height of her older sibling, but Mitch knew her curvier figure would appeal to another and possibly more encompassing demographic. Serena’s strawberry curls flew out from behind her as she clutched Kenny the fiddle and hurried to stay right on her sister’s heels.

Hi, she said, meeting his gaze only to avert it soon after. Serena might be gangbusters behind a mic, but one on one, Mitch noticed she could be quite bashful. It should be fine, though. If he kept the two together for interviews and such, the more outgoing Jade would likely pick up the deficit.

Once sequestered in his office suite, he handed each of them one of the Montblanc fountain pens he’d ordered specially for this occasion. These were—aptly enough—the Elvis Presley edition and cost him over a thousand dollars apiece. But he believed in showing his clients how valuable they were to him by offering them something of value straight from the beginning. He gave them his most friendly and encouraging grin.

Ready to change your lives for the better?

Yes, sir, the women enthused simultaneously.

He pulled out the Braden’s contract with a flourish and adopted a polite poker face that gave nothing of his rising nervousness away. Technically, their transaction wouldn’t be written in stone and official until both young singers had signed on the dotted line. Early on in his career, he’d had a client who was all gung-ho until he actually sat at the table with Mitch. Then, the guy received a text message. He balked, jumping to his feet and saying, Sorry, man. But I have another offer, and I’m going to go with him.

That almost client had then gone on to achieve three number one Top Forty hits on the pop chart within ten months and a Grammy