The Right Move (Windy City, #2)

by Liz Tomforde

I believe in hard work and dedication. My life has a plan. Opportunities are in my path because I’ve willed myself in their direction.

I knew she was pretty. I’m not blind, but there’s no way she was as beautiful as they recalled. I was certain they played it up in their minds. They didn’t.

I’m not easily distracted, but if I could manifest my perfect distraction, it’d look a lot like her.

“Ever hear the phrase ‘she’s not like other girls’?” He gives a small nod of his head. “Yeah, that’s not me. I’m just like every other chick. As basic as they come. I had an Uggs phase. I had a skinny jeans phase. I like my books with romance, my coffee with more creamer than caffeine, and I even take aesthetic pictures of my food anytime I’m at a restaurant.”

She’s utter perfection, feminine and beautiful, but we’re roommates and she’s my sister’s best friend, and the only touching that should be done is while prying eyes are watching us.

here I am, still so loyal to that relationship and the love I had for him, that a pang of guilt flashes through me simply from enjoying another man’s company.

that man in a suit is any girl’s fantasy.

The pad of his thumb skims the skin of my throat, gentle and delicate but with all the confidence in the world for a man who has been nothing short of uncomfortable with faking it.

I can’t forget what this is and confuse my idealistic heart.

I want her here. I want her to want to be here. Fuck, when did that happen?

Ryan takes a seat, one palm lingering on my hip and guiding me down to sit on his lap. He situates the blanket over me, then pulls me closer, my back flush with his chest and the warmth of his breath lingering on the skin of my neck.

If that was a fake kiss, I’m not sure I could handle knowing what a real one feels like.

It’s impractical, constantly spending money on flowers that will die shortly after bringing them home, but every cent is worth it when I get to watch that beaming smile bloom when she sees them.

it’s beyond endearing that the love between fictional characters can bring her so much joy.

I may be too lenient in my own life, but if you cross my friends, I’ve been known to hold petty-level grudges.

I can’t help but notice how well we fit together, how perfectly we mold even though we’re opposites in every other way.

“Nah. No need to be jealous when I know what’s mine. I’m the one you’re going home with.”

I’ve offered him absolutely nothing other than exactly who I am, and he’s embraced every part of me, good and bad.

I’ve never felt more at peace. Never felt so right as I do at this moment. Never felt so in tune to another person as I do her.

it took her absence from his life for him to understand what a gift he had, while it was her presence in mine that opened my eyes to everything I’ve ever wanted.

“How else would you get to live a thousand lives in the span of only one? The beauty of fiction is that it makes you feel things on a visceral level.

I’m a needy bitch who wants his attention.

Relatable lol