The Science of Loving

Read The Science of Loving Storyline:

She’s a geeky scientist obsessed with muscles. She even has a muscle car. He’s the bad boy rock star of the architectural world, perfectly content with his bachelor status, but his tattoo artist sister has other ideas, and when she decides to play matchmaker, sparks fly. Him… Danny was in love. Again. So, she thought everyone else, meaning me, should be, too. What she didn’t appreciate was that I was already living my dream: no drama, no mess. My life was just the way I wanted it; orderly. I liked my shit organized. I lived alone just so I could have things my way. If I wanted company, I’d go to the corner bar. Her… I hated parties. I was shy and crowds always left me slightly off balance and inevitably, I drew the attention of creepiest, most annoying guy there. Once caught, I could never shake them. By the end of the night I’d be nauseous, my head hurt, and I was a nervous wreck. But Danny wouldn’t take no for an answer, or as she put it, giving me her best death stare. “You might as well give in gracefully chica, because I’m not to be denied.” I gave in gracefully. And now some creep had me backed up as far as I could go without falling into the bushes. I never knew what to do when creeps like this cornered me, so I froze, unable to move, breathe or think. I cringed as he brushed a nonexistent hair from my cheek. Ew… “Excuse me, I know you’re not macking on my girl.” Holy Shit. That was the scariest man I’d ever seen. He was huge. He was bald. He was tattooed. He was a painted Aztec god; all he needed was some gold jewelry and a bloody alter. This is a funny, laugh out loud, contemporary romance about a science geek and a sweet guy with big feet. It contains some not so sweet language a few sexy love scenes (the hot, sweaty kind that will make you want to take up smoking.) If you're bothered by graphic sex and profanity, this may not be your cup of tea--just saying. But if you want a light romance that will (hopefully) make you laugh, this could be your new guilty pleasure. About the AuthorI started artistically late in life. My parents cautioned me to stay away from art related careers. Instead I should pursue a serious occupation that would lead to a "real job and a stable career," which I did by becoming a metrologist (No it's not misspelled, nor can I forecast the weather. Metrology is the art and science of measurement.) When thirty years later, a pesky thing called ethics got in the way of my career (I have them,) I decided to try my hand at writing. Born in Seattle, Washington, growing up as the daughter of an engineer, it is small wonder that I ended up pursuing a career in the sciences. During my childhood we traveled across the United States as my father moved from one project to the next, finally finishing up in Charlotte, North Carolina. After working at a series of bars and restaurants earning $1.65/hr + tips, I came to the realization that a girl with only a high school diploma and no skills, no matter how intelligent or hard working, would always be waiting tables. So I enlisted United States Army where met my metrologist husband of thirty years and traveled the world before settling together in southern California to raise our three beautiful children. My interest in the visual arts was recently revived shortly after my father's death in 2007 when I inherited his French easel, paints and brushes; none of which had been used since he was a student at the University of Washington during the 1950's. Since then I've been experimenting with various oil painting mediums, themes and techniques.