Small Town Romance Collection: Four Complete Romances & A New Novella
CONTENTS
HONKY TONK ANGEL
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
EPILOGUE
RED RIVER DEEP
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
AN OLD LOVE’S SHADOW
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
BRIDE FOR A DAY
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE THIRD WISH
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Honky Tonk Angel
A Vintage Carolyn
Brown Romance Novel
By Carolyn Brown
Copyright 1998 by Carolyn Brown
Cover by Go On Write
“A spit-and-vinegar heroine who won’t put up with any nonsense from a man, even if she has to use her rifle to make her point, and a hero who dances faster than she can shoot make a funny, fiery pair in this appealing novel.”—Booklist
“It overflows with quirky, likable characters, down-home ambience, and plenty of sweet tea.” —Library Journal
“Brown’s wit and humor shine in the third Honky Tonk novel, contributing to the zany and fast-paced tale and lovable characters. You don’t need to be a fan of country music, line-dancing and farming to enjoy the country fun.” —RT Reviews
“This is a true romance book that leaves you with a happy warm feeling long after you finish reading it. Ms. Brown has created a wonderful book that I plan to put on my keeper shelf.”—Cataromance
"Carolyn Brown's rollicking sense of humor asserts itself on every page. The plot twists and turns like a crazy roller coaster … and the dialogue is wonderful." —Scribe’s World
Dear Readers,
Seventeen years ago I started my writing career with four contemporary romance books written under the name Abby Gray. I’ve decided to reissue my Abby Gray books as Vintage Carolyn Brown Books in digital and paperback formats. This is one of those books, which originally sold as Winning Angel. It has a new title, Honky Tonk Angel, and a new cover, but the content is the same, hence the Vintage imprint. Along with the new title and cover, I’ve decided to write under the name that most of my readers know these days, Carolyn Brown.
Angel has come a long way since she was in high school. She’s now got a band of her own, the Honky Tonks, and a thriving business. But success has not filled the hole left in her heart by Clancy Morgan Morgan all those years ago.
I firmly believe that love and emotions have been the same since the days of Adam and Eve. Times change. Clothing changes. Attitudes change. But love is the same, generation after generation and that is why I left the story exactly as it was written in 1998.
More than sixty books later, I can look back and say it’s been a wonderful ride with all kinds of characters keeping me company. Shhh…don’t tell anyone but I do have voices in my head. If you like this one, look for Red River Deep, Bride for a Day, or pick up An Old Love’s Shadow, all vintage Carolyn Brown books!
I would love to hear from you. Email me at ccbrown66@att.net or visit my website at www.carolynlbrown.com or look me up on FB.
Happy Reading,
Carolyn Brown
CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
One
Clancy Morgan took a second look at the woman standing in the shadows beside the double-wide doors of the banquet hall. There was something about her sexy silhouette that looked familiar, but it had been a long time since he'd seen most of his former classmates, and he couldn't make out her face in the half-light. Perhaps she hadn't been a member of his graduating class, but he just knew that her name was somewhere in the back of his mind.
He suddenly remembered that Angela Conrad used to stand like that, but this woman couldn't be her. The Angela he'd known had always been shy. She'd never show up at a noisy ten-year reunion like this.
"And now, please welcome Dorothy Simpson, the valedictorian of the class of nineteen-thirty-seven," intoned the master of ceremonies from the podium. "Isn't she wonderful?" The crowd applauded as a frail, elderly woman made her way through, and Clancy turned around to pay closer attention to what was going inside the hall.
"Dorothy Simpson is probably the only living member of that class," Janie Sides Walls whispered to him. Clancy smiled and applauded dutifully with the rest of the alumni. But when he looked back to see if the mystery woman was still standing in the shadows, she was gone. Nothing was there but the doors swinging to and fro, as if she had seen enough . . . and left. Clancy wished he had gotten up and gone over, just in case she had been Angela. "Damn," he mumbled under his breath.
Angel was well aware that he had spotted her, felt the questions in his soft brown eyes, and knew beyond a doubt that he hadn't recognized her after all these years. Well, he would. Before the evening was over, Clancy Morgan would know who she was if she had to sit in his lap and tell him herself. But for now she had to get ready. The sound equipment was in place, the microphones set up, the amps ready to bring the house down, and the rest of her band members were in the bus.
"Did you see Clancy?" Bonnie asked when Angel opened the bus door and hopped up on the first step. "Is he here?"
/> "Yes," Angel said crossly. "Looking just as egotistical and full of himself as ever. And he's even handsomer than he used to be."
"Me thinks me hears a note of love gone wrong. Hey, sounds like a good title for our new song. Maybe I just got the inspiration we've needed all these years to take us straight to the top in Nashville," Patty teased.
"Right. Just when we've decided to give up touring," Susan added wryly.
Angel stuck out her tongue at her friends, and peeled faded jean shorts down over her hips. She jerked her knit tank top over her head and slipped on a black silk kimono-style robe, tying the sash tightly around her slim waist.
"Hey, girls, I want to thank you again for tonight. Only real friends would play a two-bit gig like this and I appreciate it. Means a lot to me."
She sat down in front of a built-in vanity, complete with mirror and track lighting, and slapped makeup on her face, covering a fine sprinkling of freckles across her upturned nose. She outlined her big green eyes with a delicate tracing of dark pencil, then brushed mascara on her thick lashes. She flipped her dark brown hair around her face with a styling comb and sat back to look at what she'd created.
Not bad for a backward little girl who'd been scared of her own shadow ten years ago. She wondered if anyone would recognize her. Not that Angel had even planned on attending this reunion any more than the other nine already gone by. But then she had received the letter from the class president and decided—without exactly knowing why—that she'd come to this one. Some of the alumni might doubt she'd even been in their class when they saw her onstage, but after tonight they'd go home and drag out their yearbooks to find her name, and picture. And there she would be in big glasses, which she'd since replaced with contacts, and wildly curly hair, which she still couldn't always tame.
Tonight Angel was going to put away the past, and forget about all those painful years. Tomorrow she was going to wake up a brand-new woman, ready to face whatever life might bring her.
She smiled at her reflection, and peeled the class president's letter off her mirror. It asked for a brief paragraph listing her accomplishments in the decade since she'd finished high school, to be published in the alumni newsletter, and for a contribution of some kind to the reunion. Angel had written back and offered to bring her band and play for the dance—free of charge.
"Better jerk them jeans on, darlin'." Mindy bent down and looked at her in the mirror. "Clancy Morgan's eyes would pop out of his head if you got to gyratin' your hips and the sash of that robe came loose. He'd surely regret being such a jackass all those years ago if he could see what you're hiding under that kimono."
"Oh, hush," Angel laughed. She took her freshly starched white jeans from a hanger and shimmied into them. Then she put on a lace bra and topped it with a sequined vest, flashing red and white horizontal stripes on one side and a ground of blue with white stars on the other. "Lord, all I need is a couple of pasties with tassels," she said, as she checked her appearance in the mirror one last time.
"Hey, we're playing a gig for a bunch of high school alumni. We ain't doing a show for Neddie's Nudie Beauties," Allie pointed out, and pushed open the bus door to lead the way. Their performance was due to start in just ten minutes.
"You five look wonderful," Angel said proudly. Her band members wore identical black jeans and black denim vests with the state flag of Texas embroidered on the backs.
"We clean up pretty good," Susan agreed. "You'd never know we were plain old working women the rest of the week." The band members laughed, and headed for the ballroom.
"Let's give the equipment one more check before the stampede," Allie said. "Testing." She blew into the first microphone, which produced an ear-squeal, and she nodded toward Bonnie, who was adjusting the amplifiers. "Smoke machine is . . . ready."
Allie turned a knob or two, double-checked the timer, then sat down at her drums and gave a warm-up roll with the sticks. "Ready to rock and roll," she growled into the microphone beside her.
"Ready," Susan breathed into her microphone, and drew her bow across her fiddle, creating a haunting sound which made Angel's blood curdle, just as it did every time they played.
"Then let's knock 'em dead." Mindy stretched her fingers and warmed up on the keyboard with a few bars of Floyd Cramer's "Last Date."
The double-wide doors from the banquet room swung open into the ballroom, and people wandered in, not quite sure this was where they belonged. Clancy Morgan was among them. He and several companions found a table right in front of the small knock-down stage Angel toted around in the equipment trailer behind the bus. Even its slight elevation of twelve inches gave the band an advantage, which was better than being stuck back in a corner of a room on the same level as all the dancers.
"Dark in here," Angel heard a man say. "These itty-bitty candles on the tables don't give much light."
"You didn't complain about that ten years ago at the prom," his wife giggled. "Matter of fact, you wanted to blow the candles out so the ballroom would be darker."
"Yeah, but back then you were fun to be with in the dark," he teased. The woman pouted. Angel thought she recognized him—wasn't he Jim Moore?
Then the alarm on Allie's watch went off. She did a roll on the drums and pushed a hidden button with her foot. The smoke machine emitted trails of white fog across the stage and a rotating strobe picked up every flicker of candlelight from the tables. When the smoke began to clear, there were five Texas state flags facing the darkened room. Then, from somewhere behind a huge amplifier, Angel stepped out, all aglitter in red, white, and blue sequins.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," she said in a deep, throaty voice. "I'm Angel—and this is the Honky Tonk Band. There's Allie on the drums." She stood aside and Allie stood up, all five feet ten inches of her, to bow and give the audience fifteen seconds of a percussion riff.
"And Patty on rhythm guitar." One of the flags turned around to reveal a blond woman, even taller than the drummer and built like an athlete. Patty bowed, and struck a chord and waved to the people, hoping for an enthusiastic crowd. Lord, but she hated to play to a dead bunch and these alimni sure didn't look as lively as the folks they'd played to last night.
"Bonnie, on steel." The second flag turned, and Bonnie made the guitar slung around her neck whine like a baby. "Susan, on the fiddle." Angel waved to her left, and a short woman with red hair perched a fiddle on her shoulder and let them hear a tantalizing bit of a classic country tune.
"And over here is Mindy on the keyboard." The final flag turned slowly to face the alumni of Tishomingo High School. "Hi, ya'll," she said huskily into the mike as Mindy made the keyboard do everything but sing.
"And this is Angel!" The president of the alumni association hopped up on the stage at the right moment to introduce her. "You might remember her as Angela Conrad, and she and these gorgeous band members have agreed to play for us tonight for free. Let's make them welcome and get ready for a show. These ladies will be at the Arbuckle Ballroom in Davis next Friday night for their final gig, so we're lucky to get 'em. Angel says she's tired of working all week and the weekends, too. So give them a big hand to let them know how much we appreciate them playing for us." He started the applause and the audience followed suit as he hopped back down off the stage and took his wife's hand, leading her to the middle of the dance floor and waiting for the first song to begin.
"Wind 'em up, girls," Angel whispered and grabbed a mike and started off the evening with a surefire crowd pleaser. Mindy tinkled the keyboard keys and Allie kept a steady beat with the brushes on the drums. Angel strutted across the stage, sequins flashing in the strobe lights, and the long diamond drops that dangled from her ears glittering in her dark-brown shoulder-length curls.
Before long, there were at least twenty couples in the middle of the floor, dancing in one way or another. Several were doing something between the twist and the jerk and an older couple were executing a pretty fine jitterbug, and Angel made them all feel like she was
singing just to them. But she kept looking down at the table where Clancy Morgan sat alone while his friends tried to keep up with the beat on the dance floor. Evidently Melissa—if he had married her—couldn't accompany him tonight. Or maybe he hadn't married her. Now wouldn't that be a hoot?
She put her left hand on her hip and struck that familiar pose, and memories from that summer ten years ago flooded Clancy's mind. What had happened to the Angela Conrad he'd known? She was supposed to marry old Billy Joe Summers and raise a shack full of snotty-nosed kids. She was supposed to work in a sewing factory, supporting Billy Joe's life-threatening drinking habit. She wasn't supposed to be on a stage, belting out songs by famous artists.
Patty started a strong rhythm and Angel stepped off the stage and mixed with the people in the dancing crowd, singing into a cordless mike. Then she sat down on the table right in front of Clancy, wiggled her shoulders and sang to him as she looked right in his eyes, realizing that he had indeed finally recognized her. There was a haunted, lost look in his eyes, as if he wanted to say something, but he just sat there without saying a word, shaking his head in disbelief.
She looked something like the old Angela, except she wasn't wearing glasses. She leaned toward him far enough that he could see down the front of her vest, and a red heat stirred inside him as he remembered how soft her skin was there. She sang while the girls provided back-up on the stage, then suddenly she wiggled and before he could blink she was back on the stage.
"Hey, Mike Griffin, pull that woman up a little closer. You sure danced closer than that when we were in high school," Angel teased in the middle of another song, a more romantic one, while the band played the break.
She glanced at the table to her left, and saw that Clancy still had a bewildered look on his face, as if his eyes couldn't believe his ears. It was a heady feeling, knowing him well enough to know what was in his heart. Angel could still list his every accomplishment. Quarterback from tenth through twelfth grade, taking the team to the state championship all three years. Debate champion, too, winning the regional trophy during his senior year.
But Angel would bet dollars to donuts that if Clancy had to hop up on the stage right now and speak, he'd be as awkward as he'd been that summer night after their graduation. He couldn't hide his feelings then and he obviously still hadn't learned how. Because his long face told her he was having a hard time dealing with her putting on a show for the alumni organization. In fact, his ego appeared to be severely deflated.