We Are All Found Things

By Molly O'Keefe

Rennie's trying to forget her past; her mysterious new tenant is trying to keep his past a secret. But when Rennie finds out the truth about Luka she discovers as much about herself as she does her innocent lover.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryant Street Publishing
• Release date: Dec 8, 2020
• ISBN: 9781094414393

Molly O'Keefe

Molly O'Keefe sold her first Harlequin Duets at age 25 and hasn’t looked back! She has since sold 11 more books to Harlequin Duets, Flipside and Superromance. Her last Flipside, Dishing It Out, won the Romantic Times Choice Award. A frequent speaker at conferences around the country she also serves on the board of the Toronto chapter of Romance Writers of America. She lives in Toronto with her husband, son, dog and the largest heap of dirty laundry in North America

Book preview

We Are All Found Things

We Are All Found Things

Molly O’Keefe

Bryant Street Publishing

Dear Reader:

We Are All Found Things was previously published in The Devil’s Doorbell Anthology.

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~ SPRING ~

---

I had the door open to the shop, and the breeze that came through smelled like rain and weed.

The guys from the garage next door were smoking outside again.

Which was completely okay with me. Not for the contact high but for the proof that I wasn’t alone way out here on the edge of Camden. This industrial part of North Minneapolis could feel like the far side of the moon.

I bought this loft space because I needed the room. Shit was taking off for me—work-wise—and I needed my forge and welding equipment in a place bigger than the garage behind my house. And when I took the lease in the New Year, I knew it was a rough neighborhood, but jeez.

Four break-ins. In less than three months.

I’ve lost all my copper. My bits of silver. A lot of my steel. The fuckers were smart.

Thank God most of my equipment was too heavy to steal.

Anyway, hopefully all that was going to end shortly.

I was working a custom piece today. A bed frame for some wealthy Game of Thrones uber-fan. It was sharp and gnarly, a little dorky with a whole lot of badass thrown in. Which frankly, was my bread and butter.

Hullo?

Crap. Was it one already?

Hello! I pulled off my mask and stood up so I could see over the headboard. Hey! I’m back here!

I turned off my propane, shook off my gloves and shrugged out of my leather apron as I jumped around my worktables and equipment toward the front door.

Overeager? Yes. I was a little scared the dude might run.

Three other guys had come and gone once they saw the neighborhood.

A blond man stood in the doorway. Well, he kind of took up the doorway. He was big. Tall and wide. His straight blond hair fell down around his shoulders and I won’t lie—for a second I thought he was that Thor actor.

But he turned toward me and the face was different. It was sharp. All nose and cheekbones, eyes the white-blue at the center of a propane flame.

Are you Rennie Hernandez? he asked, glancing down at a slip of paper held in his giant hand.

I am. Are you Luka Samuelson?

He grinned and I had no idea how old he was, but that grin was pure boy. And in contrast with the body and the face and the eyes—the whole package of Luka Samuelson was a little dorky with a whole lot of badass thrown in.

My bread and butter.

Some bell rang in the back of my head. And suddenly he seemed familiar not because of his resemblance to a movie star…but something else.

I’d seen him somewhere before.

Where?

I felt interest curl up along all my edges.

So, you’re here about the ad, I said, walking closer to the door.

I chimed a little when I moved, on account of my necklaces. He heard the noise and glanced up, his sharp eyes tracking over my body, finding the source of the sound.

His gaze was through. A bit like being pinned to a wall and frisked.

I was short but strong from my work, and I made a point of never feeling small. Of never being small. I took up all the space and all the air I could—but there was something about this guy that made me feel diminutive. I didn’t like it.

But I didn’t hate it either.

I am, he said. The ad said that rent was free as long as I was here every night and kept an eye on the place. Seems a bit too good to be true.

That’s the deal, on account of there have been a few break-ins and I’ve lost a lot of material.

You’re a welder? He eyes took in all my equipment over my shoulder. The giant wings with the bronze-and-silver filigree hanging from the ceiling.

Among other things.

The spring sunlight falling through the door behind him lit him up, gave him an aura and made the dust particles floating around his blond hair glitter.

Have we met before? I asked, because it was killing me.

He blinked and just…shuttered.

Just closed up. No more boyish smile. No more propane gaze. He was there…but not really. The truth of him, he buried deep under his skin.

I was familiar with the process because my dad was pretty good at that. So was I, frankly. Being here and then in the next minute…being gone. It was a skill and I respected it.

I

Reviews for We Are All Found Things

[Sheena Gurbakhash · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Short, sweet and very tender- wish it was longer. Feels like it could be expanded into a full novel. At the moment it reads like a happy for now rather than a happy ever after. Recommened read for New Year's Day.

[Kemora Johnson · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This was a fabulous short read that broke my heart but also mended it with this touching ending. It was a great quickie to begin my day. Happy reading