The Right Move (Windy City, #2)

by Liz Tomforde

When did I say that? I’m a romance reader. I have a thing for assholes.

“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.”

“Not so fast. If I’m going to even consider taking you to this wedding, I’m going to need to turn you into one of my book boyfriends first.” That earns a raised brow. “Oh, come on. If we’re going to be acting, we may as well go all in. Do you know how to flare your nostrils in anger?” My breakfast almost comes back up. “What?” “If you see me across the room, talking to another man, I need you to stare intently then flare your nostrils. Or grind your molars together and tic your jaw.” “Blue—” “Do you know how to growl?” “What?”

“Yeah, I don’t really know what that’s supposed to sound like, but every one of my book boyfriends is big into growling. Oh! And can you darken your eyes?” “Darken my eyes?” “Yeah. When you pretend to get angry or act really turned on, can you darken your eyes?” “No, I can’t fucking darken my eyes. What the hell are you reading?” “Don’t hate on my books. You could learn a thing or two from them.