Read Refrain (Soul Series Book 3) Online

Authors: Kennedy Ryan

Tags: #Refrain

Refrain (Soul Series Book 3)

 

 

REFRAIN is a continuation of Rhys + Kai’s story from Books 1 and 2,

My Soul to Keep and Down to My Soul.

It should be read following those.

 

Thank you for reading!

REFRAIN

Copyright (c) Kennedy Ryan, 2016

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

All rights reserved. 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 (mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of the book.

This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

 

Cover Art:

Kari March Designs

 

Cover Photos:

Adobe Stock Photos

 

Editing:

Lisa Christman, Adepts Edits

 

Proofreading:

Kara Hildebrand

 

Interior Design & Formatting
:

Perfectly Publishable

Table of Contents

Refrain

Dedication

Acknowledgments

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

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Coming Soon

About the Author

Other Books by Kennedy Ryan

 

 

Dedicated to the readers who “demanded” more of Rhys + Kai’s journey.

I’m so very glad you persuaded me tell the rest of their story!

Thank you for being so invested and encouraging!

Acknowledgements could be as long as the book because there are so many folks who are invaluable to me. I really want to thank my beta readers. Shelley, Margie, Mary Ruth, Joanna, Michelle and Teri, you guys are so awesome. You are constructive and honest and never complain when I keep at you about the smallest thing. Your enthusiasm for my work buttresses me when I feel like everything I write is crap. You are such a great barometer for me. Don’t ever pull any punches, okay? Smile. To the many authors and bloggers who support and encourage me, thank you. If I start calling names, I’ll leave someone out. I am so blessed to have found a safe place with so many of you. Your generosity and kindness are boundless and appreciated. And always my son and my husband who “suffer” the most when I write a book. The neglect and the take out abound, and you just keep loving me unconditionally. And last but not least, my parents who laid a foundation for me like Kai’s; where faith was a huge guiding force, but you never forced ME. You let me find my own way. I love you for that.

NOT TOO LONG AGO I WAS
waiting tables, serving overcooked burgers and teaching dance to rambunctious teenagers. Anyone who told me then that in a year I’d be on the set of a video, performing a duet with one of hip hop’s brightest stars would have gotten laughed right out of The Note. From a greasy spoon diner to the top of the music charts. It’s only now that I’m accomplishing my goals that the sheer audacity of my own ambitions strikes me. Thousands of girls trek to LA, bags packed full of the same hopes and dreams I have. Only a fraction of them achieve any real success.

Even fewer find what I did. Not only am I experiencing that one-in-a-million kind of success, but I found a once-in-a-lifetime kind of love. That’s the most overwhelming part of this unlikely journey.

“When’s Rhyson back?” Ella, my friend and stylist, snaps the last few hooks on my skimpy leather bra top.

Every time someone mentions his name, I grin like a loon. I need to figure out
not
looking absolutely besotted when I hear “Rhyson.”

I dip my head to spare Ella the recurring goofy grin.

“He flies back in tomorrow afternoon.”

“Oh, good!” She blows at the pink strands of hair spilling onto her forehead. “He’ll be back in time for your birthday.”

With so much going on, I’d almost forgotten my birthday is in a couple of days.

“Yeah, he’ll be home.” I slip on the ridiculously high ankle boots Ella brought. “Not that we’ll do much. I’m totally fine with a quiet night at home. He’s been away. I just want to see him.”

“Well, I’m glad he’ll be back for it.” Ella squats to fasten the boot buckle I can’t quite reach. “It must have been something really important for him to miss Grip’s first shoot.”

How did
I
end up on the set of Grip’s first shoot? No one was more surprised than I was when Grip asked me to feature on “How You Like it,” his debut album’s first release. It’s the first thing I’ve done for Prodigy since Rhyson got me out of that boa constrictor contract Malcolm had me locked in. I haven’t even seen Malcolm since I was in the hospital months ago. Rhyson handled everything. Well, Bristol probably handled everything. She and Rhyson orchestrated something I didn’t think I’d have for years.

My freedom.

“Yeah, he wouldn’t have missed it otherwise. Kilimanjaro’s gonna be on
After Dark
, that new late show with Chip Whatshisname.” I glance at my phone on the make-up table, sliding a finger over the screen to check the time. “Pretty soon on the East Coast actually.”

“Is Rhyson performing?”

“Not planning to.” I grimace. “Unless they corral him into it. We all know Kilimanjaro probably wouldn’t be on the show this early in the game if it weren’t for Rhyson as part of the package, but he insisted that
they
perform, not him. The segment’s supposed to be about them.”

Ella bends to widen one of the rips in the stretchy pants riding low on my hips, clinging to my thighs, and stopping just above the knees. With the barely-there top and the teeny, hole-y bottoms, it’s a lot of skin. Thank God Rhyson is in New York and not on set. He’d have me wrapped in gingham and swaddled in cotton. I glance down past the tiny scraps of leather concealing my chest and over the rest of my scantily clad body.

“Where’d you get this outfit?” I ask with a smirk. “Hos R Us?”

“This is pretty modest compared to most videos.” Ella quirks one studded eyebrow at me. “It’s hip hop, honey. They want to see that booty, and you can’t get away with any more clothing than this.”

I glance over my shoulder at my considerable rear assets.

“These little pants make my butt look big.” I fake pout at her.

“No, your
butt
makes your butt look big.” Ella laughs at the middle finger I flash her. “At least the top makes your breasts look bigger, too. Rhyson’ll like that. All guys do.”

“He actually likes me just the way I am.” I turn to check out my reflection and shoot a smug look at Ella when our eyes meet in the mirror. I stick out my tongue for good measure.

“I’m sure he does, Bridget Jones.”

“We do that.” I roll my finger in the air. “Rhyson and I, we do movie quotes.”

Ella’s probably tired of hearing about Rhyson, but she just gives me an “aww, that’s so sweet” grin every time I mention his name. She prattles on, and I listen with half an ear, getting lost in my own thoughts. I mentally review the director’s instructions for the next segment and the lyrics I need to remember and lip sync. I speed-learned the steps with the choreographer. This is my first video working with someone other than Dub. The choreographer’s great, but we had to feel each other out in the short amount of time I had to prepare for Grip’s shoot. The kind of artistic chemistry Dub and I had is rare, but what I have with Rhyson is rarer. I’m not second guessing my decision to cut Dub loose.

A firm knock pries me out of my musings.

“Yeah,” Ella calls, hanging her black smock on the coat rack in the corner of my makeshift dressing room.

“They’re ready for you, Kai,” one of the production assistants says from the other side of the door.

“Okay.” I glance in the mirror, taken aback by the girl staring back at me. Make up paints her face in shades of drama. Her flat-ironed hair hangs long and shiny past her shoulders. She looks like a star. I wink at her for luck. Like she needs luck. Fate must have smiled on her because all that chick’s dreams are coming true.

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