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Authors: Katie Ashley

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Music of the Soul

BOOK: Music of the Soul
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Music of the Soul

Copyright © 2013 by Katie Ashley

Formatting by
Cris Soriaga | BookMarked! Designs

Edited by
Marrion Archer | Making Manuscripts

Cover Designed by
Letitia Hasser | RBA Designs

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be

reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any

means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written

permission of the above author of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked

status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been

used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with,

or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Dedication

Acknowledgements

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

Epilogue

The Pairing Synopsis

Strings of the Heart Synopsis

About the Author

To
Cris Hadarly
—thanks for loving Jake and Abby as much as I do. You’re the tiniest person

yet greatest cheerleader I have! Thanks for supporting me and my books. Love you hard, girlie!!!

First and foremost thanks goes to
God
for all of his amazing blessing in my life the past year.

To my readers
: I cannot thank you enough for your support and your love of my books. You are

the most amazing blessing I have had in this business. Big, big hugs and love from me!

To Marion Archer
—editor and plot magician extraordinaire—I couldn’t make it without you.

You bring so much to my books and make me a better writer and story-teller.

To Marilyn Medina
: Your “eagle eyes” know no bounds, and I’m so thankful for getting to work

with you, as well as your friendship. Golden Girls 4-Ever!

To Kim Bias
: I can’t thank you enough for talking me down from the ledge as well as making my

books the best they can be. Thanks for the plot/blurb sessions. You do rock my socks!

To Shannon Furhman, Tammara Debbaut, Jen Gerchick, Jen Oreto, and Brandi Money
:

Thank you so much for being my “sluts” and working so hard to promote and support me. I can’t tell

you how much I appreciate it.

To my street team,
Ashley’s Angels
, thank you so much for your support of me and my books.

To
Raine Miller and RK Lilley
: SCOLS 4-EVER! Thanks for your unfailing love and support in

all areas personally and professionally. I couldn’t ask for better friends and travel partners!

To the ladies of the Hot Ones:
Karen Lawson, Amy Lineaweaver, Marion Archer, and Merci

Arellano
, thank you all for the laughter, the friendship, and the support. You’re all amazing!!

I ducked my head under one of the low hanging oak trees as my feet crunched along the gravel

pathway. The ache in my chest grew as I made the familiar pilgrimage through the garden of

multicolored stones. Cool Springs Memorial Park was the last place on earth I wanted to be today,

but my heart drove me there.

Close to the duck pond and beneath a massive oak tree was my mother’s final resting place.

“Hey Mama,” I murmured, as I crouched down onto my knees on the grassy earth. The only reply I

received was a few tweets from the birds nestled in the tree above me. “Brought you some flowers.”

Although the sun had yet to fade the bouquet of silk lilies on her headstone, I had still brought new

ones. A smile crept on my lips as I went about replacing the flowers. I could almost hear her chiding

me while a perfect picture of her with her hand on hip while wagging a finger at me formed in my

mind. “Jacob Ethan Slater, why on earth would you bring me new flowers when the ones I’ve got are

perfectly good? Didn’t I teach you a thing about managing finances?”

“There. That looks better, doesn’t it?” Cocking my head, I surmised the deep reds, oranges, and

purples of the silk flower arrangement that I had just placed in the bronze vase on her marker. “Hope

you like the fall flowers. Abby picked them out. Of course, if she was with me, she would know

exactly how to reshape them and all, but I have no freakin’ clue.”

Although I felt like a tool doing it, I always spoke aloud to her when I came to visit her grave. It

wasn’t like I thought she could hear me—it was all part of my grief counseling. After her death when I

had gone into a dark place, I had balked at seeing any professional therapists. I didn’t feel right

sharing my deepest, darkest thoughts and feelings with a stranger. So Abby had volunteered her

mother’s services. As the wife of a minister, Laura was used to consoling people. At times, I still felt

guarded talking to her. She was the one who had given me the idea to talk to Mama to get my feelings

out.

Rising to my feet, I wiped my dirty hands on my jeans. “I won’t be back for a few weeks, but

Papa is going to check in on you. You know, make sure your flowers are okay if it comes up a bad

cloud, as he would say.” Grinning at the thought of my grandfather and his Southern euphemisms, I

brushed the back of my hand over my face. “Abby and I are leaving tomorrow for Mexico—we’re

getting married on some private beach there. I can’t even begin to understand what she has planned.

I’m just keeping my mouth shut and going along for the ride.” Shaking my head, I smiled when I

thought of how the office in my old house—now mine and Abby’s—had been transformed into

wedding planning central.

Gazing down at the marker, I sighed. “I know you’d be disappointed I wasn’t getting married in

a church, Mama. Trust me, Abby’s parents totally flipped out that we weren’t getting married at her

dad’s church. But this island is beautiful, and it gives us privacy from the paparazzi. We’ll have the

whole place to ourselves for a week—they only bring meals and do housekeeping when you call, and

then they come by private boat. After the last few months of touring, I’m stoked as hell to have all that

time alone with Abby.”

BOOK: Music of the Soul
9.84Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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