A rock star like me does NOT get jilted at his own wedding. He just picks someone else to marry.
It was labeled as the biggest wedding of the year.
I'm talking private security, helicopters flying overhead to snap a picture - that kind of thing.
There's one problem.
The woman I'm supposed to marry. she bails. She's gone. Long gone.

You'd think that would emotionally scar someone, right?

Not me. I'm a rock star.
Plus, this event is the thing that's going to calm all the negative attention the band's been getting. In other words - I have to get married.

And I can't marry myself.
(Even though I probably would if I could.)

So I need myself a bride.

Enter a beautiful woman working as a caterer with a demo in her hand, hoping for her big break into the music business.
This is a match made in heaven, right?
Ava agrees to show up and marry me.
I agree to get her into a studio and then let her open for Raunchy Recks on our next tour.

This whole thing feels impossible to screw up.

Except Ava gets herself in some hot water. With me. Aside from the amazing singing voice, she's got curves that make me forget my name and an attitude that makes me want to put down my bass and use my hands for other purposes.

We're not actually going to stayed married. but why can't we enjoy the fruits of that labor?

From the bedroom to the studio and everywhere in between, my new wife suddenly has me feeling things that a real husband probably should.