#tuesdayteaser 9.12.2023
A PRIDE OF BROTHERS: DYLAN releases next Monday, Sept. 18,2023. Today’s little teaser is from Harper Vale’s POV as she reads up on the new hire, Dylan Keane.
Harper peeled her sweaty clothes from her body, tossed them in the hamper, and then jumped into the shower for a quick hose down of the day. That done, she then took a moment to evaluate her arms and legs.
Old scars in various colors and lengths traversed her limbs. Some were so old the skin had turned white where they’d healed. Others were various shades of pink. The most recent – the grad school ones – were smaller, but redder in color.
Harper shook her head as she fingered several of the older ones on her forearms and then her thighs. Her scars were the reason she never wore short-sleeved shirts or shorts in public. The need to explain to anyone who noticed the scarified flesh why they hopscotched across her limbs was a conversation she wasn’t going to have with anyone – ever – if she could help it.
With meticulous care, she pumped a bottle of body lotion a few times, then slathered her arms and legs with the white, coconut-scented cream. Done, she pulled on a pair of ancient gym sweats, an old college t-shirt. Since she was staying home and no one was going to see her, she figured she might as well be comfortable and cool. Next, she saw to dinner.
But first, she had to feed her fish.
“Hey, Tony,” she said as she sprinkled some of the fish food her mother had given her as a gift for Christmas into the bowl sitting atop her kitchen counter. The single goldfish swam to the surface to suck in the flakes. “Do anything fun today?”
Tony ignored her as he darted around the bowl to catch every single flake of food before it drifted to the bottom.
“Yeah. Me, neither.”
She pulled open her refrigerator door. Her fridge wasn’t what anyone would call stocked. Several cartons of generic yogurt, a bowl of leftover spaghetti from last night’s dinner, a half-loaf of bread, and a carton of eggs were the only things on the shelves, reminding her she needed to go grocery shopping soon. The salad she’d treated herself to at lunch today was supposed to be a nod to try and eat better. She’d forgotten the prices of the salads at work were based on weight, though. Her first one had consisted mostly of lettuce and some sliced egg bits and still cost her almost four dollars. Luckily, when the new guy bumped into her and offered to replace her ruined meal, she’d opted to add more on it since she wasn’t paying. The soda and cookies she’d tossed in were an indulgent treat. And since he didn’t protest, she figured, why not?
As she reheated the spaghetti in the microwave she thought about the new guy.
Dylan.
After she’d gone back to her office she’d retrieved the email introducing him to the company and discovered his last name was Keane.
Dylan Keane.
A pretty ordinary name for a guy anything but.
She read through his biography again paying special attention to the personal stuff and not the professional achievements.
Vital statistics: Thirty-six, single.
No mention if the single status was because of divorce, never married, or something else.
Personal interests: biking, karate, running.
Now she understood why he’d been impressed with her bike. If he was an avid rider himself, he’d surely have recognized the classic Schwinn 10-speed. This version hadn’t been produced in over twenty-five years and collectors paid a fortune for originals.
Wonder what he would have said if he knew it was her first bike, gifted to her on her tenth birthday by her parents and which she’d lovingly cared for all these years?
The microwave dinged and she stood in her small kitchen, bowl in hand, and ate.
So he was a runner. The memory of his six-foot-plus, trim, long-legged body proved it. He had that classic male model physique – the inverted coat hanger. Broad, square shoulders tapering down to a trim waist and lean hips and ending in legs that went on for days.
For a tech geek he liked sporty stuff. Most of the techies she knew from work and while she’d been at school eschewed physical sports of any kind, preferring to sit in front of their screens most of the day. Gamers were the inveterate couch potato. She couldn’t picture Dylan Keane sitting in a chair with a joystick or control panel in his hands for hours on end.
Future aspirations: to be independently wealthy and one day run a non-profit devoted to helping underprivileged kids enter STEM careers.
Well, well. It seemed Mr. Gorgeous had lofty future goals. Or he just mentioned those because he knew it would look good to others.
Harper didn’t know him well enough to decide which characterization was the more truthful.
Intrigued?
You can preorder the book here if you are: POB
Add it to your GOODREADS WANT TO READ LIST here: POB
Watch the trailer here: POB
