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An academic-rivals-to-lovers rom-com set at a New York conference about two neuroscientists who are forced to pretend they’re dating, leading to unexpected chemistry and a heartfelt journey of self-discovery.

Spice rating: 3/5 open door.

Neuroscientist Dr. Frances Silberstein has success on the brain. As a grad student, she was offered a job by her brilliant boyfriend, but determined to make it on her own, she turned it—and him—down. Now, stuck in postdoc purgatory with no job security and no personal life to speak of, Frances is desperate to make a breakthrough. Her best shot is a summer conference packed with her field’s leading scientists. The only problem? It’s organized by her ex, who has found the success that’s eluded her. But backing out is not an option, because Frances desperately needs to network to save her career.

Enter Dr. Lewis North: her perceptive, meticulous, and inconveniently attractive rival. When their academic sniping gets mistaken for flirtatious chemistry, Frances doesn’t deny it—putting her integrity and career on the line. As soon as her prefrontal cortex is operational again, Frances realizes she needs to keep up the charade, or risk everything she’s worked for. Faking data is out of the question, but fake dating? That might just be the solution she needs.

But as Lewis starts to make her reward centers spark and a major setback has Frances questioning everything, she must confront what she’s willing to chase—for love, for science, and for the future she thought she wanted.

Don't just take our word for it...

“Brohm’s debut is simply delightful. The chemistry between Frances and Lewis is off the charts, and their witty banter will make readers swoon. Full of fascinating details about neuroscience, this is perfect for fans of Ali Hazelwood and other STEM romances.”
– Booklist, starred review 🌟

“No one loves fake dating like I do, and this one elevates my favorite trope with emotionally vulnerable characters navigating their way through a truly heartfelt and hopeful love story. Move this debut to the top of your list.”
– Annabel Monaghan, New York Times bestselling author

“Brohm’s debut is a creative take on both academic romance and the fake-dating trope, with laugh-out-loud dialogue and a satisfying resolution. Great for fans of Ali Hazelwood.”
– Library Journal

Taste the very first page

I’ve always been skeptical of Murphy’s Law.

As a scientist worth her salt, I know that it’s all about the probabilities. With the thousands of actions we take every day, it’s just extremely unlikely that so many of them go wrong. But honestly? After sleeping through my alarm, barely making it to the airport on time despite Lennart’s—my sister’s husband—shortcuts and misplacing the allergy pills that make me drowsy enough to keep my flight anxiety at bay, I’m starting to believe that Murphy’s Law might actually be a thing.

It’s seemingly not enough that I have to be awake on this flight, visualizing what feels like a million different ways that this plane could crash. The seat belt signs on flight UA 963 from Berlin to Newark Liberty International Airport have barely been switched off when the universe decides to throw an emergency into the mix.

“Your check-in data say you’re a doctor. Is that correct?” asks the flight attendant with the black polka-dot headband. Right after boarding, when I asked the crew for some pills, she gently pushed me back into my seat, which shouldn’t have come as a surprise. I’m well aware that the crew isn’t allowed to hand out pills just like that, even if it’s over-the-counter medication. They probably don’t even have them on board, but with mine out of reach, I was desperate and thought it was worth a try, no matter how unreasonable the request.

Now, the flight attendant is staring at me with big brown eyes, polite smile plastered onto her round face, while I’m too panic-stricken to respond, tongue thick in my mouth and heartbeat heavy against my ribs. She leans over the man sitting on the aisle seat next to me—the one with the thick, caterpillar-like eyebrows—to tap on my shoulder and try again.

“Excuse me? Ma’am? Dr. Silberstein?”

Caterpillar Eyebrows decides this situation is more interesting than his doorstop of a thriller and slots his finger in between the pages of his book. On my left, the woman is still fast asleep, tie-dye hoodie scrunched up between her head and the window, and one leg tucked up onto the seat.

“Could you confirm if you’re a doctor?”

Murphy’s having a field day with me today.

February 2026