Genre Fiction
![Ali Hazelwood - [object Object] author](https://res.cloudinary.com/readsomnia/image/upload/authors/a_B08ZYW66XW.jpg)
Love, Theoretically
Rival physicists collide in a vortex of academic feuds and fake dating shenanigans in this delightfully STEMinist romcom from the New York Times bestselling author of The Love Hypothesis and Love on the Brain.
The many lives of theoretical physicist Elsie Hannaway have finally caught up with her. By day, she's an adjunct professor, toiling away at grading labs and teaching thermodynamics in the hopes of landing tenure. By other day, Elsie makes up for her non-existent paycheck by offering her services as a fake girlfriend, tapping into her expertly honed people-pleasing skills to embody whichever version of herself the client needs.
Honestly, it's a pretty sweet gig-until her carefully constructed Elsie-verse comes crashing down. Because Jack Smith, the annoyingly attractive and arrogant older brother of her favorite client, turns out to be the cold-hearted experimental physicist who ruined her mentor's career and undermined the reputation of theorists everywhere. And he's the same Jack Smith who rules over the physics department at MIT, standing right between Elsie and her dream job.
Elsie is prepared for an all-out war of scholarly sabotage but…those long, penetrating looks? Not having to be anything other than her true self when she's with him? Will falling into an experimentalist's orbit finally tempt her to put her most guarded theories on love into practice?
The many lives of theoretical physicist Elsie Hannaway have finally caught up with her. By day, she's an adjunct professor, toiling away at grading labs and teaching thermodynamics in the hopes of landing tenure. By other day, Elsie makes up for her non-existent paycheck by offering her services as a fake girlfriend, tapping into her expertly honed people-pleasing skills to embody whichever version of herself the client needs.
Honestly, it's a pretty sweet gig-until her carefully constructed Elsie-verse comes crashing down. Because Jack Smith, the annoyingly attractive and arrogant older brother of her favorite client, turns out to be the cold-hearted experimental physicist who ruined her mentor's career and undermined the reputation of theorists everywhere. And he's the same Jack Smith who rules over the physics department at MIT, standing right between Elsie and her dream job.
Elsie is prepared for an all-out war of scholarly sabotage but…those long, penetrating looks? Not having to be anything other than her true self when she's with him? Will falling into an experimentalist's orbit finally tempt her to put her most guarded theories on love into practice?
Editorial Reviews
Praise for Love, Theoretically
"It would be so easy to hate Ali-who is brilliant and funny and the most delightful writer…but it's far more productive to create a shrine I can worship at, praying for her to finish another book quickly. LOVED. IT."-#1 New York Times bestselling author Jodi Picoult
"Whenever I want a sexy, witty, delicious romance, told in a fresh and intelligent voice, I read Ali Hazelwood. Prepare to get addicted. Each book is pure joy."-Simone St. James, New York Times bestselling author
"The reigning queen of STEMinist rom-coms returns with a tale set in the cutthroat world of eliteacademia full of delightful humor, realistic emotions, and the messy search for self-acceptance."-Booklist, starred review
"A decidedly quirky and thoroughly charming tale...Geeky science jokes, humorous student emails, and expertly delivered snarky banter enhance the narrative. Readers will cheer for Jack and Elsie and their bumpy road to happily ever after."-Publishers Weekly, starred review
"Hazelwood's latest STEM-set novel may be her best yet, addressing not only discrimination among different realms of physics, but the unconscious bias Elsie has to continually fight as a woman in her field...A dynamic rivals-to-lovers romance."-Kirkus, starred review
Praise for Ali Hazelwood
"Hazelwood is an absolute romance powerhouse."-New York Times bestselling author Christina Lauren
"Hazelwood proves that she is the perfect writer to show that science is sexy as hell."-#1 New York Times bestselling author Jodi Picoult
"Gloriously nerdy and sexy, with on-point commentary about women in STEM."-New York Times bestselling author Helen Hoang on Love on the Brain
"Funny, sexy and smart, Ali Hazelwood did a terrific job ...
"It would be so easy to hate Ali-who is brilliant and funny and the most delightful writer…but it's far more productive to create a shrine I can worship at, praying for her to finish another book quickly. LOVED. IT."-#1 New York Times bestselling author Jodi Picoult
"Whenever I want a sexy, witty, delicious romance, told in a fresh and intelligent voice, I read Ali Hazelwood. Prepare to get addicted. Each book is pure joy."-Simone St. James, New York Times bestselling author
"The reigning queen of STEMinist rom-coms returns with a tale set in the cutthroat world of eliteacademia full of delightful humor, realistic emotions, and the messy search for self-acceptance."-Booklist, starred review
"A decidedly quirky and thoroughly charming tale...Geeky science jokes, humorous student emails, and expertly delivered snarky banter enhance the narrative. Readers will cheer for Jack and Elsie and their bumpy road to happily ever after."-Publishers Weekly, starred review
"Hazelwood's latest STEM-set novel may be her best yet, addressing not only discrimination among different realms of physics, but the unconscious bias Elsie has to continually fight as a woman in her field...A dynamic rivals-to-lovers romance."-Kirkus, starred review
Praise for Ali Hazelwood
"Hazelwood is an absolute romance powerhouse."-New York Times bestselling author Christina Lauren
"Hazelwood proves that she is the perfect writer to show that science is sexy as hell."-#1 New York Times bestselling author Jodi Picoult
"Gloriously nerdy and sexy, with on-point commentary about women in STEM."-New York Times bestselling author Helen Hoang on Love on the Brain
"Funny, sexy and smart, Ali Hazelwood did a terrific job ...
Readers Top Reviews
Michelle Plihal
Frequently FMCs make me cringe...not so much with Ms Hazelwood's books. Who doesn't love an intelligent lady who can think for herself. I'm totally enamored with all of her books and this one did not let me down. Beautifully written...made me laugh, cry and swoon. Give me more!
KatMichelle Pliha
I have enjoyed all of Ali Hazelwood's books and this is no exception. She writes the most interesting inner monologues for her female main characters, full of whimsical and witty reflections on science and life. My only complaint is she seems to reuse the same tropes, with the hero falling in love instantly and the heroine believing the hero dislikes her.
Cliente KatMiche
I just finished this book and I can’t tell you how much I loved it. I love every character you wanted me to love and hate every character worthy of the emotion. I was right there, with you every step of the way Ali! You are an auto buy for me, I have loved everything of yours I’ve ever read and I thank you deeply for your imagination and incredible research (I love how curious you make me about all the science stuff and how much I learn during your books and after when I inevitably research a lot of the topics you bring up!) I guess thank you for entertaining and teaching me, but most importantly for deeply enriching my life! Reading your work is always time well spent! I honestly hope to what ever dark matter is out there that a universe exists in which I get to play one of your characters someday! Signed: @marinabueno02
Miss Willa Colyns
Y’all few things make my Astronomers heart happy in the way having a fresh Ali Hazelwood book does, and yes I started the audiobook at midnight, and it was wholeheartedly worth it because yet again it’s 5 massive stars for me! Narrative was fantastically on point, and felt very true to the characters with her inflections and tone. She truly captures Elsie’s voice perfectly and pulled off all of the male characters with what seems like ease. All characters were very easily distinguishable and fit the character’s personality and background. Will love to relisten to this I’ve! Now to the story itself! Did I mention I loved it? As a disabled/chronically ill STEM baddie myself (I’m an Astronomer who is still pissed I’m not called a Skyentist) I felt so seen by the FMC Elsie who is also chronically ill (Type one Diabetes) like me, and a theoretical physicist who doesn’t quite know where she fits in the world. She relies heavily on people pleasing and making herself fit in every situation and this goes seemingly unnoticed by everyone in the world but Jack, her soon to be but maybe technically already nemesis. So much of myself was on these pages, which is something I experience every time I read her books because she has a fantastic way of giving you all the OMG I THOUGHT IT WAS JUST ME moments your therapy has been lacking. The banter, wit and nerdtastic easter eggs are always on point (SO SAY WE ALL to that subtle BSG reference) with pacing and character development clearly well fleshed out so that it never feels rushed or like insta love even in a stand-alone romance. Her worlds are always believable, relatable and full of self discovery which isn’t easy to hit the mark on every time. But, as expected Love Theoretically seriously earned it’s ranking amidst its predecessors on my bookshelf because it had all the above and more. I will be glaring in I TOLD YOU SO at my bank for giving me grief over how many editions I preordered. Seriously y’all, if you are a chronically ill romance reader, someone who struggles being a people pleaser who might just need to see themselves as the totally normal relatable hero, a woman fighting through the patriarchy just to live all of your STEM dreams (and may still think Bill Nye is a hottie, also I see you Mitchio Kaku and Brian Cox) or all of the above, this is the contemporary steminist romance for you!
Short Excerpt Teaser
1
Waves and Particles
Twenty-four hours earlier
All throughout middle school, my Halloween costume was the duality of light.
I made it with a marker, drawing a bunch of circles and zigzag lines all over one of Dad's white undershirts I'd rescued from the trash can. In hindsight, the production value was so low, not even the physics teacher managed to guess what it was. I never minded, though. I'd walk around the hallways hearing Bill Nye's voice in my head, his beautiful explanation of the ways light could be two different things at once, depending on what others wanted to see: a particle and a wave.
It seemed like a winning idea. And had me wondering if I, too, could contain two-no, a whole multitude of Elsies. Each one would be crafted, custom tailored, carefully curated with a different person in mind. I'd give everyone the me they wanted, needed, craved, and in exchange they'd care about me.
Easy peasy, photons squeezy.
Funny how my physics career and my people-pleasing career started around the same time. How I can draw a straight line from baby's first quantum mechanics concept to my current job. Actually, to both my current jobs. The day one, in which I earn next to nothing by hatching physical theories that explain why small molecules cluster together like cliques of mean girls during lunch hour. And the other one, in which . . .
Well. The other one, in which I pretend to be someone else, at least pays well.
"Uncle Paul will try to rope us into a threesome, again," Greg tells me, soulful brown eyes full of apologies, and I don't hesitate. I don't act annoyed. I don't shudder in revulsion thinking about Uncle Paul's sewage breath or his oily comb-over, which reminds me of pubic hair.
Okay, maybe I do shudder a little bit. But I cover it up with a smile and a professional "Got it."
"Also," he continues, running a hand through his messy curls, "Dad recently developed severe lactose intolerance but refuses to ease up on the dairy. There might be . . ."
"Gastrointestinal events." Understandable. I'd resist giving up cheese, too.
"And my cousin Izzy-she's known to become physically aggressive when people disagree with her over the literary value of the Twilight Saga."
I perk up. "Is she pro or against?"
"Against," Greg says darkly.
I love Twilight even more than cheese, but I can withhold my TED Talk on why Alice and Bella should have left all those idiots behind and ridden off into the sunset.
Team Bellice 4evah.
"Understood."
"Elsie, I'm sorry. It's Grandma's ninetieth. The whole family will be here." He sighs, breath smoky white in the night air of this icy Boston January. "Mom's going to be at her worst."
"Don't worry." I ring the doorbell of Greg's grandmother's town house and offer my most encouraging smile. He hired me to be his fake girlfriend, and he'll get the Elsie he wants me to be: reassuring, yes, but also gently bossy. A dominatrix who doesn't like to wield a whip-but could if necessary. "Remember our exit strategy?"
"Pinch your elbow twice."
"I'll say I'm feeling poorly, and we'll duck out. And when the threesome offer comes, heavily imply that I have gonorrhea."
"That wouldn't deter Uncle Paul."
"Genital warts?"
"Mmm. Maybe?" He massages his temple. "The only good thing is that my brother's coming."
I tense. "Jack?"
"Yeah."
Stupid question. Greg only has the one. "I thought you said he'd be gone?"
"His work dinner got canceled."
I groan inwardly.
"What?"
Shit, I groaned outwardly. "Nothing." I grin and squeeze his arm through his coat. Greg Smith is my favorite client, and I will see him through this evening unscathed. "Let me handle your family, okay? It's what you pay me for, after all."
It really is. And I'm grateful every day that I've never had to remind him. Many of my clients wonder more or less openly what other services I might offer, even though the terms of service in the Faux app are pretty explicit. They clear their throat, stroke their chin, and ask, "What exactly is included in this . . . fake-girlfriend rate?" I'm often tempted to roll my eyes and knee them in the nuts, but I try to not take offense, to smile kindly, and to say, "Not sex."
I also-to answer the standard follow-up questions-don't kiss, frot, dirty talk, get naked, do butt stuff, give BJs, HJs, TJs, and whatever other Js might exist that I'm not aware of. I don't let them pee on me or fondle my feet, nor do I facilitate and/or allow orgasms in my general vicinity.
Not that there would be anything wrong: sex work is legitimate work, and people who engage in it are just as deserving of respect as ballerinas, or ...
Waves and Particles
Twenty-four hours earlier
All throughout middle school, my Halloween costume was the duality of light.
I made it with a marker, drawing a bunch of circles and zigzag lines all over one of Dad's white undershirts I'd rescued from the trash can. In hindsight, the production value was so low, not even the physics teacher managed to guess what it was. I never minded, though. I'd walk around the hallways hearing Bill Nye's voice in my head, his beautiful explanation of the ways light could be two different things at once, depending on what others wanted to see: a particle and a wave.
It seemed like a winning idea. And had me wondering if I, too, could contain two-no, a whole multitude of Elsies. Each one would be crafted, custom tailored, carefully curated with a different person in mind. I'd give everyone the me they wanted, needed, craved, and in exchange they'd care about me.
Easy peasy, photons squeezy.
Funny how my physics career and my people-pleasing career started around the same time. How I can draw a straight line from baby's first quantum mechanics concept to my current job. Actually, to both my current jobs. The day one, in which I earn next to nothing by hatching physical theories that explain why small molecules cluster together like cliques of mean girls during lunch hour. And the other one, in which . . .
Well. The other one, in which I pretend to be someone else, at least pays well.
"Uncle Paul will try to rope us into a threesome, again," Greg tells me, soulful brown eyes full of apologies, and I don't hesitate. I don't act annoyed. I don't shudder in revulsion thinking about Uncle Paul's sewage breath or his oily comb-over, which reminds me of pubic hair.
Okay, maybe I do shudder a little bit. But I cover it up with a smile and a professional "Got it."
"Also," he continues, running a hand through his messy curls, "Dad recently developed severe lactose intolerance but refuses to ease up on the dairy. There might be . . ."
"Gastrointestinal events." Understandable. I'd resist giving up cheese, too.
"And my cousin Izzy-she's known to become physically aggressive when people disagree with her over the literary value of the Twilight Saga."
I perk up. "Is she pro or against?"
"Against," Greg says darkly.
I love Twilight even more than cheese, but I can withhold my TED Talk on why Alice and Bella should have left all those idiots behind and ridden off into the sunset.
Team Bellice 4evah.
"Understood."
"Elsie, I'm sorry. It's Grandma's ninetieth. The whole family will be here." He sighs, breath smoky white in the night air of this icy Boston January. "Mom's going to be at her worst."
"Don't worry." I ring the doorbell of Greg's grandmother's town house and offer my most encouraging smile. He hired me to be his fake girlfriend, and he'll get the Elsie he wants me to be: reassuring, yes, but also gently bossy. A dominatrix who doesn't like to wield a whip-but could if necessary. "Remember our exit strategy?"
"Pinch your elbow twice."
"I'll say I'm feeling poorly, and we'll duck out. And when the threesome offer comes, heavily imply that I have gonorrhea."
"That wouldn't deter Uncle Paul."
"Genital warts?"
"Mmm. Maybe?" He massages his temple. "The only good thing is that my brother's coming."
I tense. "Jack?"
"Yeah."
Stupid question. Greg only has the one. "I thought you said he'd be gone?"
"His work dinner got canceled."
I groan inwardly.
"What?"
Shit, I groaned outwardly. "Nothing." I grin and squeeze his arm through his coat. Greg Smith is my favorite client, and I will see him through this evening unscathed. "Let me handle your family, okay? It's what you pay me for, after all."
It really is. And I'm grateful every day that I've never had to remind him. Many of my clients wonder more or less openly what other services I might offer, even though the terms of service in the Faux app are pretty explicit. They clear their throat, stroke their chin, and ask, "What exactly is included in this . . . fake-girlfriend rate?" I'm often tempted to roll my eyes and knee them in the nuts, but I try to not take offense, to smile kindly, and to say, "Not sex."
I also-to answer the standard follow-up questions-don't kiss, frot, dirty talk, get naked, do butt stuff, give BJs, HJs, TJs, and whatever other Js might exist that I'm not aware of. I don't let them pee on me or fondle my feet, nor do I facilitate and/or allow orgasms in my general vicinity.
Not that there would be anything wrong: sex work is legitimate work, and people who engage in it are just as deserving of respect as ballerinas, or ...
