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I never intended to pick up a naked hitchhiker wearing nothing but a guitar. A guitar. Really. I don’t collect guys like that (don’t ask what kind of guys I do collect), but when you spot a blonde, tanned, sculpted man with a gorgeous smile and his thumb poking up and practically begging you to stop – you stop.

And I definitely never thought I’d be staring into the bright blue eyes of Trevor Connor, the lead singer for Random Acts of Crazy, an indie rock star I followed like the slobbering fileshare fangirl I am. How he came to be nude and lost six hundred miles from home is quite the tale, but how we fell in love is even more unreal.

Because someone like Trevor Connor, headed to Harvard Law next year, isn’t supposed to want someone like me, a rural Ohio chick majoring in Boredom at Convenience Store University who is all curves and frizzy blonde hair and manners so unpolished they have sharp edges that make you bleed.

But he did.

When his best friend, Joe Ross, the bass player for Random Acts of Crazy and a man who makes Calvin Klein models look like Shrek, drove eleven hours through the night to rescue him, though, it got real complicated. It’s one thing to like two different guys and be torn.

What do you do, though, when maybe – just maybe – you don’t have to choose?

Amazon ALL:  https://mybook.to/RAOC_AznALL
Apple Books:  https://mybook.to/RAOC_AppleBooks
Kobo:  https://mybook.to/RAOC_Kobo
Nook:  https://mybook.to/RAOC_Nook
Google Play:  https://mybook.to/RAOC_GooglePlay

Whispersync the audio narrated by Andi Arndt, Sebastian York, and Tad Branson

Amazon Audio:  https://mybook.to/RAOC_AznAudio

Also available on iTunes and Audible

Random Acts of Trust just 2.99

You ever really think that you’ll win the lottery? Meet Mr. Right? How about two Mr. Rights?

Somehow the universe is handing me everything I want (except for that lottery part…), and I don’t like it. Not one little bit. Because just when you get all your dreams handed to you on a silver platter, that’s when an airplane dumps its sewage on your house. Or your mama’s diabetes takes a bad turn. Or your mobile phone gets stuck in your hoohaw.

(What? It happens…)

Boring old average me got everything I wanted already, moving from small-town Ohio to big-city Boston to follow my heart. So when the fancy invitation offering me a pile of money to come with the band, Random Acts of Crazy, to perform on an island resort and be their manager arrived, I thought it was a cosmic joke. Enough money to help my mama get what she needed, five days in sunny paradise, and a shot at greatness for the band? Unreal. One big shoe was waiting to drop. On my head.

Just like no one really ever finds a naked man wearing only a guitar standing by the side of the road hitchhiking and ends up falling in love with him and his friend and moving halfway across the country for true love, no one gets an invitation to come to what turns out to be a resort where people make what me and Joe and Trevor do together look like a chaste peck on the cheek. But…

Well.

I guess these things do happen.

To me.