We’ve got a juicy taste of Ali Hazelwood’s STEMinist rom-com.
Enemies-to-lovers, but with a STEM spin!
Read the official synopsis and an exclusive excerpt below!
Justin Murphy; Berkley
What could possibly go wrong?
“Here is what can go wrong: her client has an older brother.
A very hot older brother.
Did we mention that he happens to be terribly sexy?
And he thinks that Elsie is a librarian who has been dating his brother?
But…those long, penetrating looks?
Not having to be anything other than her true self when she’s with him?
Ali Hazelwood’sLove, Theoreticallyhits stores June 13, 2023, but EW has an exclusive sneak peek below.
“They’re from the MIT table,” I whisper under my breath.
His giant paws tighten around my waist, as if to contain me and my panic.
They span my waist.
Our size difference sits somewhere between absurd and obscene.
“Settle down.”
“Why am I standing on the toilet?”
Was I wrong?”
I close my eyes, mortified.
This is not my life.
Oh, who am I kidding?
This is exactly my brand.
“Settle down,” Jack repeats, gruffly reassuring.
We’re way too close.
I want his breath to be garlic and sauerkraut, but it’s vaguely minty and pleasantly warm.
“Stop fidgeting.”
Oh God, they’re peeing.
I’m eavesdropping on one of the world’s foremost solar neutrinos scholarspeeing.
I can’t comeback from this, can I?
Jack’s lips graze my cheekbone.
They’ll leave as soon as they’re done, andyou can go back to the table.
Laugh at Volkov’s puns till he votes for you.
Tell a few more lies."
“I’m notlying.”
I pull back, and our eyes are at the same level.
The slice of blue in the deep brown is icy, weird, beautiful.
“I can’t explain, but this is .
.notthe way you think it is.
“From what?”
“From the way you think it is.”
Our noses nearly brush together.
“That was remarkably articulate.”
I roll my eyes.
“Monica will love to hear about your secret librarian identity”
“No!”
I barely keep my voice down.
“just, just call Greg before you talk to Monica.
He’ll explain.”
I’d forgotten about Woodacre.
“There must be a way to reach him.
Can you tell him it’s an emergency?
That, um, he left his porch light on?
You need his alarm code to go turn it off.
Save the environment.”
At least"“No.”
“You’re being absolutelyunreasonable.
All I ask is that you”
“you think about the girl?
Hannaway, right?”
one of the urinal voices asks.
We both still and instantly tune in.
A mistake, clearly.
“CV’s real good.
Her two-dimensional liquid crystals theories .
“I remember reading her stuff last year.
I was very impressed.
Had no idea she was that junior.”
Makes you wonder how much of it is her mentor’s.”
“She’s young and beautiful.
Jack stops me with a hand between my shoulder blades, arm contracting around my waist.
He’s frowning like he’s as disgusted as I am.
Though he’s not.
He can’t be, because Pereira, or maybe Crowley, adds:
“Doesn’t matter.
I’m voting for Jack’s candidate.
He’s got influence, and hehatestheorists.”
Can’t believe I forgot that article he wrote.”
“It was brutal, man.
Wouldn’t want to be onhisbad side.”
A hand dryer goes off, muffling the rest.
Jack’s still holding me, eyes on mine, foreheads near touching.
He’s a sentient weighted blanket, and I
I hate him.
Not even my brother Lucas, who had me convinced that I was adopted for over six months.
I’m mild mannered, adaptable, unobtrusive.
Jonathan F—ing Smith F—ing Turner.
He’s been hostile and unpleasant and suspicious since the day we met.
He has shat upon my field and destroyed my mentor, and now stands between me and my dreams.
The Elsie he’s going to get is the one I care to give him.
And she’s pissed.
“Iwantthis job, Jack,” I hiss over the hand dryer.
I actuallyneedthis job, butsemantics.
“I know you do, Elsie.”
His voice is low pitched and rumbly.
“But I want someone else to get it.”
“I know.Jack.”
“Then it seems like we’re at an impasse.Elsie.”
He articulates my name slowly, carefully.
I’m going to lean forward and bite his stupid lips bloody.
No, I won’t, because I’m better than that.
“You do not want to come at me,” I hiss.
“Oh, Elsie.”
“I think it’s exactly what I want.”
The dryer turns off into silence and saves me from committing aggravated assault.
“They left,” I say.
“Let mego.”
His mouth twitches, but he deposits me on the floor in some ludicrous reverseDirty Dancingmove.
I nearly lose my balance.
With Jack’s scent out of my nose, the stench of the place hits me anew.
“Talk to Monica if you want to,” I bluff, turning back to him.
“You’ll see the good it does you.”
“Oh, I will.”
He’s clearly about to smile, like the angrier I get, the more amused he becomes.
A never-ending vicious cycle that can end only in me holding his head in the toilet bowl.
Or maybe it’s a physicist’s word against a librarian’s.”
But when I reach the door, something ticks inside me.
God, I hope he has itchy, purulent ass acne for the rest of his natural life.
“I know you have despisedme since the very first moment we met,” I spit out.
He bites the inside of his cheek.
“You do?”
And you know what?
I hated you the first time I heard your name.
I hated you when I was twelve and read what you’d done inScientific American.
Jack doesn’t look so amused anymore.
This is new to metalking to others like the me I really am.
It’s new and different and weird, and I freaking love it.
I’m going to make you regret every single little jab.
He isreallynot amused now.
“Is that so?”
This time I’m the one to smile.
“You bet,Jonathan.”
From LOVE, THEORETICALLY published by arrangement with Berkley, an imprint of Penguin RandomHouse LLC.
Copyright 2023 by Ali Hazelwood.
