Theoretically Speaking

In theory, she’s meant to find her true love.
In reality, the search might be close to impossible.
Aeryn has been looking for her prince charming ever since she heard that Cinderella had found hers. After twelve long years of waiting for said Prince Charming, she decides that it’s time to give fate a little help.
With an extremely detailed plan, this college freshman begins her search for Mr. Perfect and is determined to ignore all distractions. Especially if those distractions come in the form of Aidan Huntington, who seems to be hell-bent on ruining every waking moment of her life.
And with a psychic's odd advice on her side, there's really nothing that could stand in her way. Well, except for love itself.
Status: Currently Writing

I couldn't decide on which excerpt, so here are two:

While I got my name Tampon Taylor in high school, Paige was nicknamed Miss Chemistry. Unlike her nickname, mine was the most insensitive and inconsiderate name given to me by the most irritating person known to mankind. But really, I digress.
Every time Paige was asked to do something, she was busy doing chemistry. When I asked her if she wanted to sleepover in seventh grade, she had a chemistry experiment to monitor. When I asked her to help me with a project in freshman year, she had her own chemistry project to do. When I asked her whether she wanted to go out for lunch, she had a chemistry book to pick up at the library. When I asked her to come help Brooke and I look for a prom dress, she had a chemistry assignment to hand in the following day. When I asked her if she was even going to prom, she had chemistry pages to read. So of course it was a bit odd when she decided to major in history. It was even odder when we asked her why she wasn’t majoring in chemistry and she answered with a completely baffled expression, as if it was the most absurd thing she’d ever heard, “Why would I major in chemistry?’

Or if you're more into the romance...

“Kiss me,” I whispered, ignoring the dangerously fast speed of my heartbeat. The alcohol created a light buzz in my head but I knew that even sober, I would have still stood there in the middle of my living room with him. There was just something about him that always drew me in closer – whether we were arguing, laughing, or yelling at each other at the top of our lungs. There was a comfort that kept us so in sync.

I took a small step forward and felt his jeans brush the back of my hand. Even that small touch sent a wave of excitement through my body.
My gaze moved from his eyes to his lips, which continued to get closer as each second ticked by. And then, without any more warning, they crushed mine in one of those kisses you could only dream of.
Soft. Dangerous. Sweet. Hungry.
His hand slid down to my hip and pulled me closer, and I let my list fall to the ground. Both of my hands now free, I slipped them under his shirt, my palms resting on his chest, feeling his heartbeat match mine. My entire body was hot, tingling, and so was his against my touch. His tongue teased my lips, but I knew better than to give in. Ignoring his persistent tongue, I kissed him back, letting one of my hands slide down the length of his torso. As I began to feel lightheaded and out of breath, I pulled away, panting; whoever knew anyone could kiss this well.
The corner of my lips lifted in a small smile. “Thought you stayed away from crazy people?”
He chuckled, then, in my mouth, whispered his next words. “Good thing I changed my mind.”

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