Eve M. Riley
Eve m. riley
Eve Riley was born in Dunfermline, Scotland. She worked in advertising agencies for ten years and then in market research, eventually deciding to pursue her childhood dream of writing for a living.
Her first romance series, The Tech series, revolves around three guys who accidentally end up sitting next to each other in their first computing science lecture at college. They find they compensate for the flaws in each other and as they rescue each other from various scrapes, a firm friendship develops. We meet them years later in New York as they are struggling to get their lives on track.
Eve lives in Edinburgh with her husband and has two grown up children.
THE INITIAL MEETING
The lecture hall is full as I slide into a seat on the end of the nearest row, and a slightly overweight guy with messy hair and bad skin turns and gives me lopsided grin. In the seat beyond him, a blonde guy's sharp blue eyes rise up from where he's scribbling notes on to a piece of paper.
‘Can you catch me up?’ I say.
They both nod and blue-eyes turns towards the front again.
Messy hair eyes the tattoos that snake all over my arms and leans toward me, nodding at my arms and giving me a half smile.
The whiteboard at the front is covered in incomprehensible scribbles. The professor is wearing a suit and tie and the pale wooden rows are full of people in polo shirts. I look down at my unwashed jeans and the t-shirt I picked up off the floor half an hour ago, and resist the temptation to sniff under my arms. Fuck. I should have done some reading before my first lecture, should have been on time too. I look up at the soaring ash ceiling above me, and, despite everything, my whole body burns bright. I’m actually here. I taught myself enough shit to get here, I want to pinch myself. The guy sitting next to me is still watching me.
‘Have I missed much?’ I say.
‘Nah, he’s recapping some school stuff,’ messy hair says.
‘Didn’t do much of school,’ I mutter.
‘Differential calculus,' blue-eyes says from the other side of him.
Messy hair holds out a hand. ‘Janus,’ he says.
‘Fabian,’ I say, taking it with a grin. God, it's all so fucking normal. I’ve never had straight, ordinary people in my life.
The guy on the other side lifts a hand. ‘Adam.’
I look down at the pad in front of him: everything equally spaced in a perfect script. I incline my head at them.
‘Can I copy your notes afterwards?’
He narrows his eyes on me, and I get a tight-lipped smile.
Janus gestures around all three of us and says, ‘Let's go grab a coffee afterwards. Share notes.’
I delve into the backpack at my feet and pull on my own notebook.
‘Sounds good to me,’ I say.