Camilla Isley's Blog - Posts Tagged "steminist"
The Love Theorem is OUT NOW!
A STEMinist ROM-COM THAT WILL BRING YOU LOVE LIKE IN THE MOVIES...
Are a rocket scientist and Hollywood’s brightest star a match made in heaven or is it a catastrophe headed for a crash landing?
Lana loves four things: science, her cats, her friends, and her books.
She’s on her way to earning her PhD when she finds out her long-term boyfriend has been sleeping with her best friend! That discovery has her hiding in the broom closet at a posh hotel.
Only, it turns out broom closets are the place to be these days.
Christian Slade, America’s sexiest man alive (as voted by fans), in a desperate attempt to escape the paparazzi finds himself in a broom closet with one sobbing occupant.
Unable to leave a damsel in distress, he offers help, only to realize she has no idea who he is! It’s like he’s been given a gift. A smart, beautiful woman, who isn’t after him for fame and fortune . . .
Soon Christian is buying a Tesla to impress his scientist with his eco credentials and taking her on dates where no one will recognize him. But as Christian falls in love he worries what will happen when Lana finds out who he is?
A STEMinist romance with an unforgettable meet-cute perfect for fans of Ali Hazelwood!
Available in eBook at all retailers and in Kindle Unlimited:
Amazon
Apple Books
Kobo
Barnes & Noble
All other retailers and libraries and audiobook links
READ CHAPTER ONE
One - Lana
I hear footsteps outside the door and wonder if the clandestine occupation of a hotel broom closet is a crime punishable by law. Even if it were, no jury would have the heart to convict me after the morning I’ve had.
Mitigating circumstances—a failed lab experiment, finding out I’m surrounded by liars, almost being run down by a car in my mad dash to downtown LA—would make the case for me. What would the police even charge me with, anyway? Excessive sobbing? Undignified self-pitying?
The footsteps near, and I hold my breath. Whether or not I’m convinced of my justified presence in this closet, I’d rather not have to explain myself to a stranger.
But thankfully whoever was out there walks past, none the wiser about me having taken residence in one of the supply storage rooms of the Peninsula Beverly Hills.
I unlock my phone to check if something has changed—it hasn’t. The proof that my life is in shambles is still there, spelled in colored pixels. My eyes have barely adjusted to the bright light when I lock the screen again, plunging the tiny room back into darkness.
Emotional and physical distress mingle in the shadows, making it hard to discern what’s real from what’s imaginary.
The sensation that my brain is about to explode from the million thoughts swirling inside it? Probably a mental projection.
The burning in my throat? I’d say fifty-fifty. It could be from all the sobbing or, equally possible, an emotional manifestation.
The sharp edge of the rack behind me boring holes into my shoulder blades? One hundred percent real. And the only symptom I could fix.
When I can no longer stand the discomfort, I shuffle toward the rear of the room, opting to lean against the back wall in a less thorny position. Also, my butt is hurting from sitting so long on the hard floor. I finger the shelves in the dark, until I come in contact with fluffy towels and stash a couple underneath me.
That’s also when I realize I’m impossibly hot. The air conditioning of the hotel doesn’t extend to its closets apparently. I lean away from the rack and remove the blue lab coat I hadn’t realized I was still wearing. How did I even keep it on until now? The adrenaline must’ve been cooling me. Ha! Maybe I should introduce it as a new bio-coolant in my research. Nah, hormones and rockets don’t mix.
As I sit in near total obscurity, the only light coming from the sliver of space underneath the door, I contemplate all the wrong life choices that brought me to this moment.
There was that time as a two-year-old when I thought it’d be a good idea to befriend the neighborhood’s twin kids. That decision at least half backfired on me as one of the twins just stabbed me in the back.
Then there was school and my natural predisposition for scientific subjects that led me to pick aerospace engineering as my major in college. So far, something I’d solidly filed in the pros column of my qualities. Now, I’m reconsidering. A philosopher would be better equipped to deal with the situation and take it, well, with philosophy. Or at least use the experience as a case study for deranged humanity and the loss of common social values like friendship, loyalty, basic decency…
But I’m digressing. The gold medal of poor life decision has to go to that day in freshman year when I assumed it’d be harmless to sit next to the hot, dark-eyed nerd in a Statics and Strength of Materials lecture. He was lounging in the first row of the auditorium, acting as if he owned the place. That should’ve been a red flag for selfish, egocentric tendencies.
In my defense, attractive, non-socially awkward engineers are a rare breed. Most of my fellow freshmen fit best into the nerdy nerd category. Skinny, thick-glassed introverts who are more at ease solving partial differential equations than talking to women—not that I’m famously an extrovert.
Even so, is it really my fault that I sat next to the tall guy with broad shoulders, cute dimples, and dashing smile who also gave the impression of being a decent conversationalist?
I’d rather call it a series of unfortunate events that started in year two of my life and culminated in year twenty-eight with a neurotic meltdown in a broom closet.
But, hey, the greatest fantasy saga of all time started with the protagonist living in a broom cupboard. I’ve only been here an hour. What if this is the beginning of my story?
Yeah, right. Not going to happen. I read too much fiction. Not how real life works.
No matter the angle I consider the situation from, I can’t put a positive spin on it.
The sting of the betrayal resurfaces, and fresh tears spring down my cheeks.
Before I can get the waterworks under control, outside noises distract me once again from my misery. Someone is thundering down the hall in a hurry.
I relax. No one could be that hard-pressed to reach cleaning supplies.
The moment I dismiss the threat, the pounding footsteps stop abruptly outside my hidey-hole.
The handle rattles and my heart jumps into my throat. Then the door opens in a flash of blinding light that prevents me from seeing who the invader is before they close the door behind them just as quickly.
That’s weird. Am I now confined in a broom closet with a serial killer? Who else would shut themselves in a storage room without turning on the lights? Except for me, of course.
Would anyone hear me if I screamed? Maybe, but then again, what would I say to my rescuers? Help, someone broke into the closet that I have no right to occupy?
“Is someone in here?” a deep male voice asks in a sexy British accent, cutting through my thoughts.
Do serial killers have sexy accents?
Join Lana in the broom closet at:
Amazon
Apple Books
Kobo
Barnes & Noble
All other retailers and librariesc
Are a rocket scientist and Hollywood’s brightest star a match made in heaven or is it a catastrophe headed for a crash landing?
Lana loves four things: science, her cats, her friends, and her books.
She’s on her way to earning her PhD when she finds out her long-term boyfriend has been sleeping with her best friend! That discovery has her hiding in the broom closet at a posh hotel.
Only, it turns out broom closets are the place to be these days.
Christian Slade, America’s sexiest man alive (as voted by fans), in a desperate attempt to escape the paparazzi finds himself in a broom closet with one sobbing occupant.
Unable to leave a damsel in distress, he offers help, only to realize she has no idea who he is! It’s like he’s been given a gift. A smart, beautiful woman, who isn’t after him for fame and fortune . . .
Soon Christian is buying a Tesla to impress his scientist with his eco credentials and taking her on dates where no one will recognize him. But as Christian falls in love he worries what will happen when Lana finds out who he is?
A STEMinist romance with an unforgettable meet-cute perfect for fans of Ali Hazelwood!
Available in eBook at all retailers and in Kindle Unlimited:
Amazon
Apple Books
Kobo
Barnes & Noble
All other retailers and libraries and audiobook links
READ CHAPTER ONE
One - Lana
I hear footsteps outside the door and wonder if the clandestine occupation of a hotel broom closet is a crime punishable by law. Even if it were, no jury would have the heart to convict me after the morning I’ve had.
Mitigating circumstances—a failed lab experiment, finding out I’m surrounded by liars, almost being run down by a car in my mad dash to downtown LA—would make the case for me. What would the police even charge me with, anyway? Excessive sobbing? Undignified self-pitying?
The footsteps near, and I hold my breath. Whether or not I’m convinced of my justified presence in this closet, I’d rather not have to explain myself to a stranger.
But thankfully whoever was out there walks past, none the wiser about me having taken residence in one of the supply storage rooms of the Peninsula Beverly Hills.
I unlock my phone to check if something has changed—it hasn’t. The proof that my life is in shambles is still there, spelled in colored pixels. My eyes have barely adjusted to the bright light when I lock the screen again, plunging the tiny room back into darkness.
Emotional and physical distress mingle in the shadows, making it hard to discern what’s real from what’s imaginary.
The sensation that my brain is about to explode from the million thoughts swirling inside it? Probably a mental projection.
The burning in my throat? I’d say fifty-fifty. It could be from all the sobbing or, equally possible, an emotional manifestation.
The sharp edge of the rack behind me boring holes into my shoulder blades? One hundred percent real. And the only symptom I could fix.
When I can no longer stand the discomfort, I shuffle toward the rear of the room, opting to lean against the back wall in a less thorny position. Also, my butt is hurting from sitting so long on the hard floor. I finger the shelves in the dark, until I come in contact with fluffy towels and stash a couple underneath me.
That’s also when I realize I’m impossibly hot. The air conditioning of the hotel doesn’t extend to its closets apparently. I lean away from the rack and remove the blue lab coat I hadn’t realized I was still wearing. How did I even keep it on until now? The adrenaline must’ve been cooling me. Ha! Maybe I should introduce it as a new bio-coolant in my research. Nah, hormones and rockets don’t mix.
As I sit in near total obscurity, the only light coming from the sliver of space underneath the door, I contemplate all the wrong life choices that brought me to this moment.
There was that time as a two-year-old when I thought it’d be a good idea to befriend the neighborhood’s twin kids. That decision at least half backfired on me as one of the twins just stabbed me in the back.
Then there was school and my natural predisposition for scientific subjects that led me to pick aerospace engineering as my major in college. So far, something I’d solidly filed in the pros column of my qualities. Now, I’m reconsidering. A philosopher would be better equipped to deal with the situation and take it, well, with philosophy. Or at least use the experience as a case study for deranged humanity and the loss of common social values like friendship, loyalty, basic decency…
But I’m digressing. The gold medal of poor life decision has to go to that day in freshman year when I assumed it’d be harmless to sit next to the hot, dark-eyed nerd in a Statics and Strength of Materials lecture. He was lounging in the first row of the auditorium, acting as if he owned the place. That should’ve been a red flag for selfish, egocentric tendencies.
In my defense, attractive, non-socially awkward engineers are a rare breed. Most of my fellow freshmen fit best into the nerdy nerd category. Skinny, thick-glassed introverts who are more at ease solving partial differential equations than talking to women—not that I’m famously an extrovert.
Even so, is it really my fault that I sat next to the tall guy with broad shoulders, cute dimples, and dashing smile who also gave the impression of being a decent conversationalist?
I’d rather call it a series of unfortunate events that started in year two of my life and culminated in year twenty-eight with a neurotic meltdown in a broom closet.
But, hey, the greatest fantasy saga of all time started with the protagonist living in a broom cupboard. I’ve only been here an hour. What if this is the beginning of my story?
Yeah, right. Not going to happen. I read too much fiction. Not how real life works.
No matter the angle I consider the situation from, I can’t put a positive spin on it.
The sting of the betrayal resurfaces, and fresh tears spring down my cheeks.
Before I can get the waterworks under control, outside noises distract me once again from my misery. Someone is thundering down the hall in a hurry.
I relax. No one could be that hard-pressed to reach cleaning supplies.
The moment I dismiss the threat, the pounding footsteps stop abruptly outside my hidey-hole.
The handle rattles and my heart jumps into my throat. Then the door opens in a flash of blinding light that prevents me from seeing who the invader is before they close the door behind them just as quickly.
That’s weird. Am I now confined in a broom closet with a serial killer? Who else would shut themselves in a storage room without turning on the lights? Except for me, of course.
Would anyone hear me if I screamed? Maybe, but then again, what would I say to my rescuers? Help, someone broke into the closet that I have no right to occupy?
“Is someone in here?” a deep male voice asks in a sexy British accent, cutting through my thoughts.
Do serial killers have sexy accents?
Join Lana in the broom closet at:
Amazon
Apple Books
Kobo
Barnes & Noble
All other retailers and librariesc
If the Ring Fits is FREE in Prime Reading!
Dear Book Lovers,
I'm so glad you've been loving Adrian and Rowena's story, thank you for all the amazing reviews.
I'm exited to share that this marriage of convenience novel is now also available to read for FREE with Amazon Prime Reading...
If you haven't started this book yet, I hope you'll love it ... happy reading!
Camilla
PS. This couple is really sweet, the meet-cute truly unique, and their banter swoony…
Amazon & Kindle Unlimited & AMAZON PRIME READING
Apple Books
All other retailers, audiobook links, and libraries
When life gives you lemons, fake an engagement…
When fate throws two hot messes into a meet-cute of epic proportions, it's a match made in rock-bottom heaven.
The rules of engagement are simple:
Pretend to be madly in love
Keep their real lives separate
Absolutely, positively do NOT catch feelings
However, faking it is harder than they thought, especially when every overnight stay comes with only one bed and zero personal space—blurring that imaginary line between ‘just business’ and ‘definitely personal.’
Soon, their carefully constructed charade starts to feel alarmingly... real. Can Adrian and Rowena stick to their engagement pact, or will their fake relationship graduate to something authentically messy, complicated, and wonderful?
Find out in this hilarious, heartwarming tale of two strangers who said "I do" before they even said "Hello." Because sometimes, the worst day of your life just might lead to the best mistake you'll ever make.
All the tropes:
Marriage of convenience
Cinnamon roll, multi-millionaire MMC
Sweet and sassy STEM FMC
Age gap
Only one bed
Amazon & Kindle Unlimited
Apple Books
All other retailers, audiobook links, and libraries
Part of a series but can be read as a standalone!
I'm so glad you've been loving Adrian and Rowena's story, thank you for all the amazing reviews.
I'm exited to share that this marriage of convenience novel is now also available to read for FREE with Amazon Prime Reading...
If you haven't started this book yet, I hope you'll love it ... happy reading!
Camilla
PS. This couple is really sweet, the meet-cute truly unique, and their banter swoony…
Amazon & Kindle Unlimited & AMAZON PRIME READING
Apple Books
All other retailers, audiobook links, and libraries
When life gives you lemons, fake an engagement…When fate throws two hot messes into a meet-cute of epic proportions, it's a match made in rock-bottom heaven.
The rules of engagement are simple:
Pretend to be madly in love
Keep their real lives separate
Absolutely, positively do NOT catch feelings
However, faking it is harder than they thought, especially when every overnight stay comes with only one bed and zero personal space—blurring that imaginary line between ‘just business’ and ‘definitely personal.’
Soon, their carefully constructed charade starts to feel alarmingly... real. Can Adrian and Rowena stick to their engagement pact, or will their fake relationship graduate to something authentically messy, complicated, and wonderful?
Find out in this hilarious, heartwarming tale of two strangers who said "I do" before they even said "Hello." Because sometimes, the worst day of your life just might lead to the best mistake you'll ever make.
All the tropes:
Marriage of convenience
Cinnamon roll, multi-millionaire MMC
Sweet and sassy STEM FMC
Age gap
Only one bed
Amazon & Kindle Unlimited
Apple Books
All other retailers, audiobook links, and libraries
Part of a series but can be read as a standalone!
