Can Jon find Mr. Right when everything else has gone wrong?
Valentine’s Day is a day for lovers and dreamers. But not for Jon. He is cursed with the worst luck every February 14th.
This year is no exception. From clothing mishaps to vehicle disasters, Jon is in a battle against chaos.
In the midst of it all, he meets the handsome and successful Archer. Archer is the calm in the middle of the storm, but Jon isn't sure if he can trust something good on such a bad day.
Chaos Theory is a stand-alone novella that will make you laugh, cringe, smile, and swoon.
I won't go as far as to say Jon is a touble magnet but boy the powers-that-be certainly don't favor him on February 14th. A series of tiny little things that alone wouldn't give a person a second though but put them all together and you have a man who probably should never leave the house on Valentine's Day.
Ashton may not be exactly a knight in shining armor but he definitely comes into Jon's life at the time he needs assistance most. I don't always believe in coincidences but they can happen and they can then lead to great things. Then again, sometimes I think those powers-that-be just like to play a good old fashion game of chess, us being the chess pieces.
Chaos Theory has a definite rom-com vibe. Sweet, funny, cute-meet, awkwardness, and tons of adorableness. Added all together and you have a great Valentine short novella that will turn your chaos into smiles.
This is the second work of Duckie Mack I read, the first being part of a Christmas anthology. I've loved them both and definitely look forward to checking out the author's backlist as well as any future endeavors.
RATING:
Chapter 1
I should have stayed in bed. I should have called in sick and never left the safety of my blanket, with my cat sleeping at the base of my butt. I wasn’t superstitious. Not usually. Friday the thirteenths often turned out great for me, not sure why. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the thirteenth, that would have been fine. Nope. It was the fourteenth…of February. The worst day of my life, recycled and repurposed each year into new calamities one could never imagine.
I was cursed. I was certain Cupid had an evil twin brother, Chaos, whose sole function was to counter all the love that his sibling wreaked upon the world and I was his favorite target. Ever since puberty hit, the day for lovers turned into my own personal hell. It was bad enough watching everyone around me all hopped up on love juice. It seemed like you couldn’t walk down the street without someone being proposed to, or seeing flowers delivered, or just straight up near sex in the shadows. I could handle that, mostly. It was the crazy situations that always seemed to find me on the day of holy horniness. What was that guy a saint of anyway?
Two years ago, I went to the zoo with my bestie and her toddler while her husband was stationed in Germany. It seemed like a fun, anti-romantic way to spend the day. Still plenty of lovers out and about, but the day had gone fine. Until I got punched by a wallaby on a leash that was part of an animal encounter. Sure…gather around and learn about marsupials, what could possibly go wrong? The handler apologized profusely, the zoo offered me return tickets, we’d spent the rest of the day filling out paperwork. I assured them that the only thing injured was my pride. All while little three-year-old Danny cried about wanting to see the pandas.
I ended up using my extra tickets on a very not-Valentine’s-Day-day, and we watched the pandas for as long as his little threenager attention span could last. In all honesty, that wasn’t even the worst of my V-days. Maybe in the top four, but I’d had some doozies. And today was shaping up to be the front-runner.
My day started out late. Super late. At some point during the night, the power must have gone off because my alarm clock was two hours behind. It took me forever to figure out what time it was when I woke up as the light pierced through my window. It was never that bright when I got up. After finding my phone which had fallen under my bed, I realized it was almost an hour later than I usually got up. Nothing got your heart going faster than realizing you overslept. No time for a shower, I splashed some water where it mattered most, brushed my teeth, and threw on some pants.
Of course, the only pants I had left were my khakis. I should have done laundry, but I’d been trying to get past the part I’d been stuck on in my game and time had gotten away from me. My khakis were fine, but I tried not to wear them at work if I could help it. As a middle school science teacher, there was no telling what number of things could spill or stain and the light material was a magnet for that.
I matched it with a forest green polo, ran my fingers through my hair, and rushed out the door. When I got to the school, all the good spots had been taken because…late. I had to park on the opposite side of campus and hoof my way back as fast as possible. In my hurry, I didn’t notice the whistle blowing or the person yelling. I had exactly three minutes to get through the gates and to my class. A screech of tires, a scream, the hair on my neck standing on end; my senses that were supposed to indicate danger were slow to react. Slower especially on this most awful of days.
I turned, at last, to find a car mere inches away from me and a panic-stricken parent sitting at the wheel. Their eyes were wide, their skin had paled. I could see them visibly shaking. My body hadn’t caught up yet to the near-fatal incident. It simply did not compute. The crossing guard came rushing over asking if we were okay.
“Mr. Lambert, oh my God. I was too far to do anything. I was yelling but you must not have heard me. I could have sworn you were about to be hit.”
The bumper of the car was near enough I could reach out and touch it. Yeah, okay, that was close. A lump lodged in my throat as my heart finally realized what had happened and decided now was the perfect time for some adrenaline. I felt like I needed to run, to flee, but the crisis was already over. Thanks a lot, you traitor.
The parent opened the door to their car and had tears streaming down their face. “Are…you…okay?” They said between sniffs.
I patted my chest and my legs for show. “Yeah, I’m good, not a scratch.”
“I’m so sorry. My phone fell under my foot and got stuck under the brake pedal, I almost couldn’t stop.” They started heaving and sobbing. With my luck, I could completely picture such a thing happening. It was total Final Destination vibes. V-day was out to get me yet again. I could have been mad, I could have yelled about irresponsibility, but with how upset they were, it wouldn’t have helped matters. This was a moment they would never forget. Me…it was just one of a long list of crazy that found me like heat-seeking missiles. I couldn’t hide from it.
Eventually—after much consoling for the parent—I made it to my classroom where my kids were already waiting on me. Walking into a room full of thirty twelve and thirteen-year-olds when you weren’t prepared was not for the faint of heart. It was near impossible to regain control. You had the two in the corner making out, never mind the fact that they were way too young for that. There was always bound to be a dick drawn on the whiteboard. I got it, dicks were great, but they didn’t belong in public spaces. Especially not in a classroom, unless you were the unfortunate teacher selected for health ed. We were on rotation, and luckily this was not my year for it.
It took a while, but I finally managed to get the class under control, just before the bell rang and they rotated. A headache was starting to work its way through my skull. It was going to be a long-ass day.
One good thing about Valentine’s Day; there was no shortage of sweets and I was in need of some major chocolate therapy. I took my lunch to the teacher’s lounge where it was decorated in red and pink glittery hearts. Mounds of chocolates were piled up in bowls on each table. Teachers were paired off or in groups all busily chatting about their special plans for the weekend. Valentine’s was the one time of year when it was suddenly okay to talk about where you were going to be fucked. A nice hotel, a cottage, an Airbnb, the kids are gone for the weekend, meeting a hot new guy, a hot tub, a heart-shaped bed. All of them not so subtly saying they were getting laid.
I was friends with a lot of the people on staff, but I just wasn’t feeling the lovey-dovey talk today, so I kept my head down and ate. On the way back to my classroom, I heard several snickers and people talking behind my back. Each time I turned around, eyes would suddenly dart away as if there was no possible way they were looking at me, while not successfully hiding their laughter.
Great. What was it now? I checked my pants and when my hand hit something sticky on my ass, my heart seized. I carefully kept my hand in place and maneuvered sideways out of the crowd of kids toward the nearest bathroom. The sheet metal mirrors were terrible for seeing reflections clearly, but I twisted enough to get an idea of what it was.
Chocolate. A gooey, caramelly, chocolate melted and smashed right in between my cheeks. Fuck my life. The candy must have rolled off the table and I sat on it. I couldn’t very well take off my pants at school and try to wash out the stain. That would be frowned upon in the worst way. I grabbed a paper towel and pulled off as much as I could, the caramel stretching and paper towel sticking to it. Wetting another paper towel, I tried to scrub it while reaching behind me. I couldn’t turn my neck around to see it well, but I knew enough that it was still very visible, only now it looked wet and rubbed in. Curse you, khakis. It might have blended in better if I’d had dark jeans on at least.
The tardy bell rang and now I would be late for the second time that day. There was nothing else I could do. And of course, I’d forgotten a jacket or I could have tied it around my waist. Now I had to walk out in front of the harshest critics in the world…middle schoolers. They would never let this go. I stayed close to the wall, angling myself away anytime someone walked by. I’m sure I looked like a mad man. Students and staff were bound to be whispering about Loony Lambert.
Back in class, I was hyper-aware of the stain on my pants and the unfortunate coloring and placement of it. I felt like I had a neon light glowing on my ass that made it look like I shit myself. Trying to teach while not being able to turn completely toward the board was a challenge in itself. But I awkwardly made it through the rest of the day.
Each moment, each step we take will lead us down one path or another. Every step in my day seemed to lead to another catastrophe. I figured it was in my best interest to stay after school and get some work done. Sure there was always stuff to do, but my main goal was not having to walk out in front of everyone to the far parking lot with chocolate treadmarks.
The school was perfectly abandoned by the time I left. My head was on a swivel still, on the lookout for any stray child or parent who might catch a glimpse of my backside. When I got home, I was going to burn these cursed pants. Well…maybe not today, that seemed like tempting fate too much.
Duckie Mack normally writes sweet with heat MM romance in both contemporary and PNR. She lives in Southern California with her family, two dogs, and three cats. Duckie is a sappy romantic who also loves musicals, theater, superheroes, and fairytales. She also loves to go to pride events and give out free hugs, or talk books, usually both.
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