Beat of the Heart

To the
Ladies of the Ledge
:
Marilyn Medina, Marion Archer, Cris Hadarly, Michelle Eck,

Kim Bias, Lisa Kane, and Karen Lawson

Without these fabulous women, dear readers, you would not receive my books. They have

supported me by holding my hand during the blood, sweat, and tears of the writing process as well as

talking me down from the ledge we crazy writers put ourselves out on. Most of all, their keen eyes

have helped to make my books the best they can be through editing, revising, and brainstorming.

“You and I travel to the beat of a different drum. Oh, can't you tell by the way I run every time you

make eyes at me?”—Mike Nesmith

“One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain”—Bob Marley

“If music be the food of love, play on”—William Shakespeare

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

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Epilogue

With my foot pumping steady on the bass drum, my arms flew in a frenzied flourish over the toms

and cymbals, sending a deafening thunder throughout the auditorium. As stinging sweat threatened to

blind my eyes, I quickly swiped my arm across my forehead and then focused on the song’s encore

and my third solo of the evening. Jake and Brayden’s echoing harmonies had ended only moments

before, and now it was a battle between the metal and drums on our most hardcore song to date,
Ride

the Pale Horse
. Their guitars screeched to a halt, and then it was me, and only me, pounding out the

rhythm. As the house lights flickered in a mosaic of colors, I felt the beat echoing deep within my

chest. Although I loved any excuse to show off, I knew the importance of solos to my band mates—we

were only as good as our last show or our last album. Even though I was in a stadium with twenty

thousand people, moments like these always took me back to when I was a kid and was learning how

to master the drums from my Tio Diego.

Just as I finished the last beat of the crescendo, everything went black in the auditorium. It took

only a millisecond for the audience’s approval to begin as a resounding roar. For a full minute, we

remained in the pitch black until the house lights slowly came back up. As I took off my headset,

whistles, cat-calls, and applause stung my ears. I rose off my stool and made my way out of the drum

set to join the guys at the front of the stage. During the blackout, roadies had taken Jake, Brayden, and

Rhys’s guitars. I, on the other hand, stood twirling one of my drumsticks between my fingers.