It’s all about the chemistry.
ROMANCING DR. LOVE
Sterling University #1
Rebecca Heflin
Releasing March 7th, 2017
Dr.
Samantha Love says it’s all about the chemistry. A brainy psychology professor
and researcher, Sam has based her entire academic career on the theory that
what we call love is simply a chemical reaction. She is currently running a
study to prove that her compatibility blood test reveals perfect matches—sort
of like an organ donor, but for relationships. No romance required.
Along comes
sexy literature professor, Dr. Ethan Quinn, who says it’s all about the
romance. He thinks the pretty psychology professor has taken love and all its
mysteries and reduced it to something as romantic as a cholesterol test, and he
sets out to prove her theory wrong.
When Ethan
signs up for her study, Sam discovers to her horror, that according to her
compatibility test, they are a perfect match. Sam faces an existential crisis
over her career and her research. If she believes in her science, shouldn’t it
follow that she believes Ethan is her perfect mate? And if she doesn’t believe
he’s her perfect mate, doesn’t that bring into question her research? Her
compatibility test? Her reputation? And her very career?
As Sam struggles with her dilemma, Ethan pursues her with all the romantic tactics in his arsenal. Will Sam’s theories succumb to his challenge? Or will Ethan lose the battle for Sam’s heart?
EXCERPT
Excerpt
“No,
no, no. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening,” Samantha Love muttered as
she gently banged her head against the steering wheel.
She
turned the key again. Nothing. Not even a wheeze. This was the icing on the
cake of her otherwise craptastic day.
A
bead of sweat trickled down her back. And another one between her girls. God,
she hated boob sweat.
When
she’d taken the research and teaching position at Sterling University in North
Georgia last fall, she’d never have guessed the summer would be so hot.
Throwing
open the door of her car to let in even more stifling heat, she searched for
the lever to pop the hood. Finally locating it, she pulled it, then walked
around to the front of the car. As if she knew what to do.
Just
as she leaned under the hood to jiggle some wire thingies, she heard, “Dr.
Love? Do you need some help?”
She
let out a startled squeak hitting her head on the underside of the hood. “Ow!”
Rubbing the offended spot, she turned and saw Ethan Quinn standing there
looking all adorable. Not to mention manly.
Dammit.
Why did it have to be him? “No. I’m fine.” Yeah, right. For all her parents’
preaching on women and self-sufficiency, she didn’t know a dipstick from a
spark plug when it came to cars. She turned back to the mystery parts under the
hood.
“You
need a jump.”
“I
beg your pardon?” She spun, hand on her hip.
“Your
battery.” He pointed in the direction of her open hood. “It probably needs a
jump.”
“Oh.
Right.” Of course he meant her battery. What else would he be talking about?
“I
have jumper cables in my car. I’ll have you going in a few minutes.”
“He’ll
have me going in a few minutes,” she mumbled under her breath as she watched
him walk to the far corner of the parking lot. Tall, athletic build, dark-wash
jeans, white button-down shirt. And that hair. Tousled espresso-brown waves
just brushing the top of his collar. “He’s already got me going,” she said to
herself.
He
tossed his messenger bag in the car and climbed in. And, of course, his
car started. Because that’s what cars did. They started when you turned the
key. Then they blew cold air, so you didn’t have to stand in the mid-July Georgia
heat. Unless they dated back to the Stone Age like hers. Another bead of sweat
trickled between her breasts.
She
released a wistful sigh. Bet the AC felt good.
He
pulled his recent model American-made car around to face hers and then got out
to pop the hood. Walking around to the trunk, he opened it and grabbed a set of
jumper cables, looking like he knew what he was doing.
Good
thing somebody around here did.
“It’s
a hot one today,” Ethan commented, as he connected one of the clamp doohickeys
to what she assumed was the car battery. His sleeves were rolled up over his
forearms, displaying muscles with a light dusting of hair.
Clamping
the other end of the cables to his own battery, he then returned to her car.
When he walked past her, his cologne wafted to her nose, temporarily erasing
her angst at being in his presence.
Then
he touched his hand to her back. And the anxiety returned tenfold. “Stand
clear.” He leaned into the gaping mouth of the car and attached the remaining
clamp, throwing a spark.
“All
right. Let’s see if we can get this baby going.” He climbed into the driver’s
seat of his car and turned it on.
“Give
her a try,” he hollered over the din of his car’s running motor.
Sam
dropped into the front seat and turned the key. The older-than-dirt engine
tried but couldn’t work up enough energy to turn over.
“Hold
on,” Ethan called, then revved his car. “Okay, try her again.”
Her
car wheezed then reluctantly cranked a couple of times before coming to life.
Ethan
was at her door, leaning over, hands braced on the roof. “Great. Let her run a
bit, then I’ll disconnect the cables.” A bead of sweat trickled down his
temple. “My AC’s on full blast. Why don’t you sit in my car until yours is
ready to go.” He stepped aside to give her room to get out.
Sam
felt as wilted as week-old lettuce, so against her better judgment she took him
up on the offer.
He
opened the front passenger door of his shiny black Lincoln MKS—such a
gentleman—and she sank into the leather seats and stuck her face in front of
the vent. God, it felt good. The door closed with a solid thunk. Resisting
the urge to wipe away the boob sweat, she settled for drying the perspiration
on her face and neck.
The
car dipped as Ethan took a seat on the driver’s side before shutting the door
and closing out the rest of the world. Music played softly in the
background—something popular. The intimacy of being alone in the car with Ethan
washed over her.
“I’d
offer you something cool to drink, but I don’t have anything.”
She
realized she hadn’t said a word in the last five minutes. “Thank you.”
“No
thanks necessary. You’d do the same for me.”
“No,
I wouldn’t.” She smiled. “I don’t know a thing about cars.”
He
nodded as a grin split his face. “Well, from the looks of your battery, you’re
going to need a new one. I can follow you to Burt’s Automotive. He can have a
replacement installed in fifteen minutes.”
She
shook her head. “Thanks, but I don’t want to put you out in any further.”
“It’s
no trouble. Besides, if you go straight home, I don’t think she’s going to
start for you in the morning.”
“Oh.”
That would not be good.
“She
should be juiced up enough to get you to Burt’s. Stay here until I unhook the
cables.” Ethan got out of the car and set to work.
She’d
steered clear of Ethan Quinn since the day she was introduced to the rest of
the college faculty. The moment they shook hands she’d felt a connection. And
from the look on his face, he’d felt it too. That flood of adrenaline,
dopamine, and serotonin one feels when there is a strong physical attraction.
Relationships
were complicated, but getting situated at a new university was already
complicated enough.
No.
Being in close proximity to Ethan Quinn was a bad idea. So as much as she hated
to leave the cool comfort of his car, she jumped out and got in her rolling
oven before he could say otherwise.
Rebecca
Heflin is
an award-winning author who has dreamed of writing romantic fiction since she
was fifteen and her older sister snuck a copy of Kathleen Woodiwiss' Shanna to
her and told her to read it. Rebecca writes women's fiction and contemporary
romance. When not passionately pursuing her dream, Rebecca is busy with her
day-job as a practicing attorney.
Rebecca is a member of Romance Writers of America (RWA), Florida Romance Writers, RWA Contemporary Romance, and Florida Writers Association. She and her mountain-climbing husband live at sea level in sunny Florida.
Rebecca is a member of Romance Writers of America (RWA), Florida Romance Writers, RWA Contemporary Romance, and Florida Writers Association. She and her mountain-climbing husband live at sea level in sunny Florida.
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