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Songwriter Night: A Musical Romance
Songwriter Night: A Musical Romance
Songwriter Night: A Musical Romance
Ebook116 pages1 hour

Songwriter Night: A Musical Romance

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In this sweet romantic comedy, Lyle and Trish are two aspiring Country music songwriters that meet at a Nashville coffee house. With Trish being new in town, Lyle invites her to his monthly gathering of songwriters to get to know her better. The evening of quirky characters and light-hearted singing is interrupted by the arrival Aiden Bronson. He's got a hit song on the radio, and he's back to show off, stirring up some rivalry while he's at it. How will Lyle compete against Aiden's charisma and talent in order to win Trish's heart?

 

This story features the lyrics to twelve original Country songs. If you'd like to hear how they sound, the audiobook version of this story features a full cast of Nashville performers singing them.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherD. G. Driver
Release dateJan 27, 2021
ISBN9781393314318
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    Songwriter Night - D. G. Driver

    This book features lyrics to eleven original songs and one adaptation of a public domain folk song. To hear them played and sung, get the full cast audiobook of Songwriter Night: a musical romance from wherever you like to get your audiobooks and podcasts.

    Chapter One

    Nashville, Tennessee. Country music capitol of the world. Things have changed a bit here since Loretta, Patsy, Johnny Cash, and Glen Campbell were in their heyday. Heck, it’s changed since Reba, The Judds, Randy Travis and George Strait were topping the charts. Wouldn’t you know, though, buskers are playing beside their open guitar cases on the streets downtown one week, inside the honky tonks the next, and signing a contract with a music label a week after that. It still happens. Records are still being recorded, and singers are making their way up the ranks to earn their spot on the Ryman stage. Some are still buying houses and fancy cars with their royalties. And a special few are Nashville royalty.

    And even though a songwriter or singer can make it these days by entering a TV contest or getting a following from posting videos on Instagram or YouTube, there are still those who come to the city to feel the vibe and get it into their souls. They do it the old-fashioned way, meeting up in groups to sing their songs for each other and help push each other along.

    Today, we meet two of those dreamers. Right now, they don’t know each other. They’re at opposite ends of the same coffee house on a hot, humid afternoon. They’re both struggling for rhymes, rhythms, and the perfect words.

    Lyle grunts out loud and jams all of his fingers on the laptop keyboard at once. His rhyme for you can count on me is now jasfsdz dfjkl apjifo. He drops his forehead into his hands to force his brain to think.

    The Music City Brew coffee house is mostly empty. It’s a Wednesday afternoon in July. College kids make up most of the customers during the school year. They’re not due back to the dorms for another month or so. Lyle enjoys an iced vanilla latte as he sits at a small table as far away from the giant window facing the street as possible. The coffee house uses mostly natural light during the daytime hours, and this is the only place where the sunlight doesn’t glare on his laptop screen.

    There’s a guy at a table along the wall opposite from the barista counter. He’s scrolling on his phone while eating a bagel with cream cheese. He’s wearing a delivery uniform, and Lyle is having a hard time understanding why this guy is taking his lunch break at a coffee house and drinking a hot coffee on this miserable day instead of getting an icy soda and a burger somewhere. Shoot, there’s a sandwich place two doors down. Maybe he likes the quiet. This place is real quiet. They don’t play any background music. It’s what Lyle likes most about it. Nothing to distract him from his own tunes. He wonders if the owners keep the place quiet on purpose for the students who come to study here. And for songwriters like him. Whatever their reason, he’s grateful.

    Thoughts about the mysterious delivery guy aren’t nearly as distracting as the only other customer in the place. She sits at the table closest the window, as far away from Lyle as she can be in this brick-walled, narrow storefront space. She has her feet up on the chair opposite her, bare, with pink painted toenails, her slip-on sandals abandoned on the floor. She wears a white skirt that is full enough to fall daintily from both sides of her legs, and she covers her summer top with a light sweater to combat the air conditioning. Her dark blonde hair has some bright blonde highlights that wind in and out of the spiral curls. Every now and again, she tucks her hair behind her ears, but it’s too long and heavy to stay there while she keeps her face turned downward toward the notepad in her hands.

    The girl has captured Lyle’s attention, and he’s having a terrible time staying focused on his writing. He usually does his best work here. Not today. It’s nearly impossible for him to stop looking at her.

    Then she starts humming. It’s quiet, under her breath. She might not even be aware that she’s humming out loud. Delivery Guy notices. He looks over at her for a moment. A faint smile crosses his face and then he’s back into his phone. Lyle is smiling too. Her voice is pleasant and effortless. The acoustics of the room are carrying the sweet tune right to him. It’s not a tune he’s ever heard before. Kind of wistful and bluesy.

    Her eyes drift to watch out the window while she hums. She stops abruptly and writes something on her notepad. Then she takes a long drink of her iced coffee until there are only cubes left at the bottom. Lyle bites his lip to keep from chuckling out loud when she makes the sweetest pout upon discovering her cup is empty.

    Immediately, he jumps to his feet and heads to the counter. A couple minutes later, he approaches the girl with a fresh iced vanilla latte in one hand and an iced mocha for her in the other. The straw stuck in it has a torn bit of the wrapper still covering the free end.

    I hope you don’t mind. I noticed you ran out of your drink about the same time as I did, and I thought I’d...  Stephen said you were drinking an iced mocha.

    Stephen waves from the counter.

    The girl’s face, already bright with afternoon sunlight, gleams with delight. That is so sweet. I usually have just one because, you know, calories, but I can cheat today. Thank you so much! It’s so thoughtful.

    Lyle feels Stephen and the delivery guy sharing a silent laugh at his expense behind him. He refuses to acknowledge them. He points at her notepad.

    Well, you look like you’re working hard. Are you writing a song? I’m guessing that’s not just poetry because you were humming.

    Oh no, you heard that? I was trying so hard to be quiet.

    It’s not crowded in here. I’m sure you heard me beating up my laptop a minute ago.

    She shakes her head, having no idea what he’s talking about. Clearly, she was fully immersed in her writing, unlike him. Suddenly, her eyes widen in horror as she has a realization.

    Oh my gosh! I didn’t know you could hear me. I noticed you were back there writing something too. I’m so sorry if it was distracting. She points at the coffee still in Lyle’s hand. Is the drink a bribe to get me to shut up?

    No. No, Lyle says. Just a treat. I swear. Me trying to kill my computer had nothing to do with you. And if that tune you were singing is indicative of your style, it’s going to be a great song.

    Thanks. I hope so. When I think up a tune I like, I try to hum it a couple times to get it real stuck in my head. If I remember it later, then it’s a keeper.

    That’s a good test. I might try it myself.

    Lyle starts to turn away, but the girl reaches a hand across the table invitingly.

    So, you’re a writer? What do you write?

    Songs. I’m a songwriter too. It’s Nashville, we’re everywhere.

    Delivery Guy gets up. As he passes them on the way to the front door, he says, Good luck. Lyle isn’t sure if he’s being wished good luck for hitting on this girl or if it’s a wish for their songwriting success. Either way, he’ll take it.

    Sit down. Join me for a minute. I need a break anyway. This song isn’t coming together the way I hoped it would. I’m Trish.

    She reaches out a hand for him to shake, but he’s still holding cups in both hands. Awkwardly, he puts down the cups, tosses her old cup into

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