And sure, coffee down the blouse is not the way to start building up confidence, but it’s not the worst thing that could happen. It’s a conversation starter. Common ground.

Something I can talk about to my new coworkers that I share nothing in common with.

Like I said, nothing, and I mean nothing, is going to stop me from enjoying this new chapter in my life.

Scottie Price is thriving.

She is single.

She’s smart, she’s charismatic, she’s charming.

And she’s living out her best Nora Ephron life, falling in love with herself.

Yup, nothing is going to take that away.

Nothing.

Chapter One

SCOTTIE

“Meeting in ten,” Duncan says while knocking on the casing to the door of my office.

“Well aware,” I mutter as I press my fingers into my brow. I don’t need the reminder.

Another freaking Thursday morning meeting where obnoxious blowhards like to hear themselves speak while absolutely nothing is accomplished.

Great.

It’s been three months at this job, and it’s like clockwork. We shuffle into the conference room. Brad S carries around a putter like he’s King Arthur at the Round Table and talks about the eighteen holes he plans on playing this weekend while Brad F—or Finky—and Chad cheer him on from the sidelines like a bunch of fanboys, frothing at the mouth for the attention of their leader.

Yup, Brad, Brad, and Chad.

The Brads and Chad.

I stare off into the pit of the office. Rows of glass desks, all stacked right next to the other, placed on top of puttable Astroturf flooring. Bobbleheads showcasing a variety of sports heroes are perched atop said desks, jouncing while penis after penis walks by.

Yes, you read that right…penis after chino-encased penis.

To tell it to you straight, I work surrounded by a real sausage fest.

And not just any sausage fest but the worst kind.

It’s what the youth are calling…the finance bros.

*Shudders*

Sure, they’re not actually “finance bros” given they work for a golf company, but they sure as hell have the aesthetic down to a science.

Every day, I’m subjected to an agglomeration of company-embroidered vests, khaki chino shorts, boat shoes, and polos, all entwining with early morning bro hugs and gentle razzing.

Why does this bother me? Well, besides the fact that they are impossibly annoying to be around, I’m the only woman at the company besides the CEO. She, however, is barely in the office, especially with the launch of a new brand of Butter Putter mini golf courses.

But what really grates on my nerves and has me breathing into my desk drawer like it’s a paper bag at least once a week: they’re all married.

Every last one of them.