Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
As the youngest physics professor at her university, practical-minded Miranda Reed plans her life with minute precision. But that’s before she’s denied tenure and the promotion she thought was guaranteed. Suddenly, her tidy life is anything but constant.
Overdue for a sabbatical, Miranda takes some time to look towards the stars—only this time, she’s not looking for black holes. With her faith in science shaken, Miranda turns to a practice she’s long dismissed as preposterous: astrology.
Determined to figure out why her life has suddenly gone sideways, Miranda commits to a year of letting her horoscope guide her. Soon she’s taking on new home improvement projects, adopting a new pet, and studying what the stars have to say about her ideal love match. The intriguingly aloof artist living next door? Never. His Aries energy is all wrong. On the other hand, the charming father of her new tutoring pupil is Sagittarian perfection. Made for her…right?
As Miranda navigates life with new a perspective, she slowly discovers neither science nor the stars have all the answers. And that, when it comes to love, you sometimes just have to trust your heart.
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APRIL
When I decided at the age of nine that I wanted to be an astrophysicist, I’d thought that meant I’d study stars someday.
Not become one.
Now, let’s be clear. I’m not a star in the Aniston, Clooney, Streep sense of the word. Nobody stops me in the streets and asks for my picture.
In nerdy terms:
If the Clooney crowd is part of the blue-white supergiants of the universe, Dr. Miranda Reed (that’s me) is more of a red dwarf–level star.
In less nerdy terms:
It’s unlikely the paparazzi will ever be jumping out from behind a bush to catch a glimpse of me carrying groceries.
I’m not a household name, by any stretch of the imagination. But among brainy social circles?
Well, let me put it this way. I may not be People magazine’s Person of the Year, but I have been Citizen magazine’s Scientist of the Year. And I was a popular fixture on 30 under 30 lists before last year’s birthday put me out of contention.
I’ve been a contestant on Jeopardy! seven times, won four times, and I’ve even guest-hosted the game show twice. And if you’ve ever watched a national morning show on a super blue moon or during a meteor shower, there’s a decent chance you may have seen me.
I’m proud to say that I’m often the major networks’ first call when they need someone to explain something “sciencey” to their viewers.
Here’s the part in this whole not-so-humble-brag where I’m supposed to say that the pseudofame is exhausting, and that I just want to be a regular scientist.
But actually? I like bringing science to the masses. I like making it accessible, especially to girls and women for whom the world of STEM might seem a little historically impenetrable. And most especially, I like that on days like today, being a little bit famous provides a much-needed distraction from the fact that today is the day.
The one that we academics spend our entire career working toward. Waiting for.
The day we get the one tiny yes/no decision that can make or break our career:
Tenure.
“Thank you so much, Dr. Reed,” the blond undergrad student in my office says as she zooms in on the selfie we’ve just taken on her cell phone.
Jennifer Müller, a student from my current Astronomy 101 course with a bright, curious mind as well a propensity for showing up late to every class, squints down at her screen. “You mind if I pop a filter on this before I post it? The lighting in here’s kinda blah.”
“Sure. But no Photoshopping me to make my eyes bigger or my waist smaller, or whatever,” I say. “I hate that crap.”
“Oh my gosh, never. You’re so naturally pretty! I wish I could get away with wearing no makeup.”
I blink.
I actually am wearing makeup. I mean, not a ton of it. Concealer to hide the fact that my schedule doesn’t allow for much sleep, brow gel to keep my thick, trademark eyebrows in place. Mascara, because, well, who doesn’t look a little better with mascara?
But apparently what I thought was subtle is in fact… invisible.
I make a mental note to add some lipstick to the mix.
“Thanks again for the photo,” Jennifer says. “I know it’s kind of lame, but my dad is such a fan of yours. He’s going to freak.”
“It’s my pleasure. And I bet your dad would be even more thrilled to hear that you made it to class on time one of these days.” I soften the rebuke with a smile.
Jennifer winces. “Right. Totally. Sorry. I’m just so not a morning person. I can’t believe the department stuck you with such a crappy 8 a.m. schedule when there’s a waiting list for your class. You should get top pick of time slots!”
Since she’s already heading out the door, I don’t bother to explain that 8 a.m. was my pick of times, and it’s because of the popularity of the class that I’ve asked the department chair for the earliest possible time. The unpopular early morning class time means that those who enroll have to really want to be there, not those who just want to see the “Jeopardy! professor” in person.
Jennifer leaves my office with a promise to be the first student in class tomorrow morning.
Before I can get back to grading the latest batch of papers on the life cycle of stars, I’m interrupted again, this time by a fellow professor.
“Like, oh my god, it’s Dr. Miranda Reed!” Elijah says in a dramatic whisper before he mimes taking rapid-fire photos, paparazzi style.
He pretends to begin untucking his shirt. “Will you sign my bra?”
I roll my eyes as Elijah Singh, professor of computational physics, flops into the chair across from me. Unlike me, Elijah’s class doesn’t have a waiting list.
But unlike most of my other colleagues, he doesn’t seem to hold this against me.