Seaside Pictures

Losing your ability to speak at the age of 17; it's not normal or fair. But trauma has a way of throwing normality out the window. Dani lives anything but a normal life: her sister is married to one of the biggest names in Hollywood, her best friends are rock stars, and she has more love around her than most people experience in a lifetime. But that doesn't change the fact their parents are dead, or that it's her fault. It seems her new normal is being a mute, living on the inside, unable to actually communicate on the outside.

My name is shouted on rooftops. It's written on bras, on the inside of bathroom stalls - hell, my name is everywhere. To say my name is to experience an orgasm without ever leaving your damn house. My name is Zane Saint Andrews. I'm sex. I'm a rock god. I'm also a virgin. What they don't know won't kill them, right? Give the people what they want. And what they want is the idea of me; the pleasure they gain by listening to my song and knowing without a doubt that I'm talking about them and only them.

What's harder than having to babysit a bunch of musicians in the small town of Seaside, Oregon? Adding your ex to the mix. She hates me. I freaking loathe her. I was stupid enough to say yes. Stupid enough to take one last chance on helping rebuild her acting career. I'm a sucker for a challenge. But I didn't expect to care....

Three kids under the age of six, and she left because she missed it. Because her dream had never been to have a family, no her dream had been to marry a rockstar and live the high life. Moving my recording studio to Seaside Oregon seems like the best idea in the world right now. I need a sitter and fast. Someone who won't flip me off when I ask them to sign an Iron Clad NDA, someone who won't sell our pictures to the press, and most of all? Someone who looks absolutely nothing like my ex-wife. 

It’s not every day you're slapped on stage by two different women you've been dating for the last year. What sort of ballsy woman gets on stage and slaps a rockstar? Does nobody have self-control anymore? It may have been the talk of the Grammys. I was 33, hardly ready to settle down. Except now it's getting forced on me. Seaside, Oregon. My bandmates were more than happy to settle down, dig their roots into the sand, and start popping out kids. Meanwhile I was still enjoying life. Until now. I'm teaching freaking guitar lessons at the local studio for the next two months.

The music industry called me a savant at age sixteen when I uploaded my first video and gained instant fame. And then Drew Amherst of Adrenaline became my mentor, and my career took off. Everything was great. Until tragedy struck, and I wondered if I’d ever be able to perform again. I fought back, but all it took was a falling light to bring it all back to the fore. So, I walked away. Because I knew it wasn’t just stage fright. It was so much more.

I had his posters on my wall when I was 16, and when I accidentally got pregnant in high school, his was the face I dreamt of when I closed my eyes at night. Now, more than 20 years later, that dream has turned into reality. Not only is Drew Amhurst in my tiny town of Seaside, alive and in the flesh, but he's mentoring my rock-star son. Drew says he's mine for a week, and he made me three promises: no strings attached, no falling in love, and only seven days.