Can't Help Falling (Sweater Weather, #3)

by Courtney Walsh

Who am I kidding? I don’t go to parties. I wish someone would invite me to one so I could politely decline. I stay home and read. A lot. Pajamas > Party.

Fictional men are always better than the real ones. Always. Probably because they’re written by women.

I want Mr. Darcy clenching his hand after helping Elizabeth into the carriage. Or Ryan Reynolds bursting into my workplace to profess his love for me after faking our engagement. Or Harry telling Sally that he wants the rest of their lives to start as soon as possible.

The man who saved my life is a grown-up version of the boy who broke my heart.

I like who I am. I like spending my time the way I want to spend my time. I like my pajamas and my books. And I like helping people via my podcast. I’m comfortable with who I am, and I’m not going to let this trip down memory lane change that.

My customers mean well, but by the time the interview rolls around and Lindsay shows up, I want to crawl into a hole and stay hidden until hell freezes over or Leonardo DiCaprio dates someone his own age, whichever comes first. Probably the hell thing.

Doesn’t he know we don’t rehash our most embarrassing moments? We slowly back away and never speak of them again.

The leaves have started to turn, and I’m struck by how the earth beautifully lets go of the things that need to be reborn.

“Honey, he is speaking my language. Being thoughtful. Doing things that will show me he loves me. It doesn’t matter what the gesture is, if the intent behind it is to show someone you care, then it can be romantic.”

“I want to know everything about you, Emmy. I want to listen to you unload after a bad day. I want to make sure you’re safe. I want to be the person you think I am because you see a better version of me than I do. I want to fall asleep on the couch watching stupid romance movies.”