The Right Move

I read Mile High first and liked the banter, so I came to The Right Move for Ryan and Indy. It came out in 2023, indie in February then Hodder paperback in August running 512 pages tied to ISBN 9781399728560. It is book two in the Windy City series. Ryan Shay is a Chicago basketball star who needs a fake girlfriend to fix his image. Indy Ivers is a flight attendant who needs a place to stay. They become roommates with rules. Then they break every rule slowly.

If you like sports romance with banter and forced proximity, this delivers. Long chapters. Spice with negotiation. No third act miscommunication that a talk would fix. Conflict comes from careers and fear, not silly lies.

Roommates

Ryan is known as the league grump who hates media. He plays hard, answers short, avoids parties. After a public incident, his team suggests a stable image. A girlfriend would help. Indy just got out of a bad living situation with an ex who cheated. She works flights, sleeps odd hours, loves deeply and jokes constantly. A mutual friend connects them. Spare room for rent. House rules. No dating each other. No bringing dates home without warning. Groceries split.

Tomforde writes their first weeks with comedy and care. Ryan meal preps chicken in bulk. Indy adds hot sauce to everything and labels it. He needs quiet mornings. She sings while cleaning. He learns her flight schedule to leave coffee. She learns his game schedule to leave space. They text from the same apartment like teens. Who ate my yogurt. Your turn for trash. That roommate texture builds trust before attraction speaks.

Indy flight attendant life gets good detail that respects the job. Early check ins at dark airports. Mean passengers who snap about delays. Crew naps in jump seats with blankets. She loves takeoff push and hates delays that strand her overnight in strange cities. Ryan meets her at airports with food when schedules align, waiting past midnight with sandwiches. Those pickups show care without words or flowers. He tracks delays like game stats on apps. She saves him window seats with legroom. Small logistics as love language that builds trust. Readers who travel for work will recognize the tired tenderness of arrivals after red eyes. Being met matters more than being texted. Presence at baggage claim beats promises.

Ryan basketball life gets similar careful detail across the season. Practices with defensive drills that leave bruises. Film sessions where coaches pause footwork. Road trips with hotels, roommates, and bad sleep. He plays through ankle pain that swells after games, hiding wraps from trainers who would bench him. Indy notices his limp on stairs and makes ice packs without asking permission. She leaves them by his door with notes. Ice twenty minutes. Elevate. He lets her care for him, which for a man who performs toughness is huge trust. Men like him rarely accept help without jokes. His acceptance signals more than kisses at this stage. That slow permission to be tended matters more than grand gestures with flowers.

The fake dating starts for practical reasons. A team event needs plus ones. Reporters ask about his life. Indy agrees to pose as girlfriend for a month with rules. Hold hands in public. No kissing unless cameras need it. Tell no one it is fake except one friend. Of course lines blur at the first event. His hand on her back feels steady. Her laugh at his dry joke sounds real because it is. Photos look too good. Teammates tease. Friends ask when it started. They lie badly and blush.

I liked how consent runs through fake dating. They check before each event. Okay to kiss for cameras. Okay to say fiancee joke. Indy safewords with humor when overwhelmed. Pineapple means pause. Ryan honors it instantly, stepping back even mid photo. That practice makes later real intimacy safer. Readers get heat with safety modeled. Spice never skips asking.

Feelings

The middle is feelings denied through routine. They cook together. He teaches her free throws in an empty gym. She teaches him to pack a carry on in minutes. They watch bad reality TV and argue about contestants. He falls first and hides it by working harder. She falls second and hides it by dating someone else briefly. That brief date with a pilot goes nowhere and clarifies everything. Polite conversation. No spark. She comes home to Ryan on the couch and feels relief like landing.

Indy past shapes fear. An ex who cheated and lied about money. Parents who love but worry from far. She tells herself she is too much for steady men. Ryan steady attention scares her more than drama did. She picks fights about dishes to test if he stays. He stays and washes. She cries once from relief, not sadness. He holds without fixing. That scene, more than any spice, sold me. Love as staying through tests without grading.

Ryan past shapes too. A father who pushed. A brother rivalry. Media that calls him cold. He tells Indy he is boring off court. She lists his qualities like stats. Loyal. Kind to rookies. Remembers crew names. He hears love in data he trusts. That translation from numbers to feelings is lovely for an athlete character. He tracks her flight hours like points. She tracks his smiles like wins.

Spice builds through negotiation that continues from the fake dating rules into real need. They discuss limits plainly, aftercare needs, and schedules around road trips with calendars out. Scenes are explicit with humor that keeps them human. Socks stay on because floors are cold. A joke about height differences and counters. Aftercare with water, food, and showers together. Readers here for steam get plenty written with care for bodies. Readers here for plot get feelings with each scene that move trust. No encounter exists just to fill pages between games. Each tests honesty or deepens ease. A morning after scene where he makes eggs exactly how she likes while she ices his ankle says more than dialogue could. Care shown in kitchens outlasts perfumed declarations.

Family and team add texture that pressures and supports. Ryan teammates tease relentlessly in group chats and protect fiercely on courts. Indy crew friends visit with wine and warnings about athletes. A team gala brings both worlds together under chandeliers. Indy charms owners with flight stories. Ryan charms her friends by remembering coffee orders and asking about routes. Those public successes pressure private truth they avoid. If fake looks this good in photos, why is it fake at home. Friends ask with winks. They deflect with jokes that sound thinner each time to themselves. The gap between image and feeling narrows until denial costs more energy than honesty. That math finally moves them.

What worked was banter with care underneath every joke. Ryan dry one liners about defense. Indy sunny comebacks about offense. Teasing that never punches down at weight, money, or past. When jokes touch tender spots like Indy ex or Ryan father, they apologize fast and adjust without sulking. Sorry, that landed wrong. Tell me where. That repair modeling matters in romance where humor often wounds. Showing quick repair teaches more than perfect talk that never misses. I laughed a lot at their kitchen arguments about salsa heat. I trusted them more each chapter because laughter never cost safety. Fun with guardrails.

Choosing

The last act forces choice without silly breakup. Ryan gets trade rumors. Indy gets a promotion requiring moves. Both could end the arrangement with thanks. Instead they admit the arrangement became real months ago. He tells his team the truth and takes the image hit. She turns down the promotion transfer to keep base near him, choosing with eyes open about costs. No one sacrifices career fully. Both adjust. That mutual bend feels adult in a genre where one often yields.

A gala confrontation brings private truth public under lights. Reporters ask if they are real with microphones forward. Ryan answers with specifics, not slogans about love. How she takes coffee with oat milk. What she does on red eye flights with masks. Why he loves her laugh in kitchens at midnight. Specifics convince more than claims of forever. Indy answers with his stats that matter off court. Games attended through ankle pain without complaint. Rookies mentored after losses. Quiet charity without cameras at shelters. They go public as real by telling true details that fake couples would not know. Photos after show relief in shoulders, not performance smiles. Friends cry in corners. That honesty costs image control and buys peace.

After the gala honesty, they set house rules for real dating with calendars. Date nights protected from schedules with phones off. Pineapple still means pause with no questions. Honest talks monthly about money, moves, and fears. The book ends with a game and a flight that align for once after months of conflict. She watches from stands in his jersey. He looks up after a win and points. No big speech with microphones. A hand on glass from the tunnel. That restraint suits two people who learned logistics as love. Big feelings shown in small arrangements done right week after week.

What worked was length used for daily life. At 512 pages, every routine matters. Grocery runs. Airport pickups. Film sessions. You feel months passing through habits. Romance earns pace. No insta love. No breakup over a heard half sentence. Conflict comes from jobs and fear, resolved with talks within chapters. That maturity refreshes sports romance.

What dragged was repetition of team events with photo lines and poses. How many galas with step and repeats can a single season hold for plot. After the third red carpet with flashbulbs and small talk, poses blur into one long smile in memory. A shorter season with two public events would still pressure the fake story without numbing readers. Food descriptions also repeat nightly with the same proteins. Chicken breast, rice cups, hot sauce bottles on counters. Readers will skim meal preps to get to talks that change things. The point, that care looks like cooking protein on time for tired people, lands early and well. Keep the Sunday big cook where they laugh and burn garlic bread. Trim weekday reheats described in full. Those edits would tighten 512 pages without losing daily life texture that makes this couple real and fed.

Still, as sports romance with heart and heat, it tops many in the genre for me. It respects flight attendant work with red eyes, basketball grind with ice packs, and fear of wanting after hurts. I finished wanting the next Windy City book immediately, which is the series job done well. Same city with snow. New couple with banter. Old friends dropping by with food and teasing. Ryan and Indy will appear in backgrounds with coffee orders remembered. That continuity rewards loyalty without requiring homework. Jump in here if fake dating tempts you. Start at book one if you prefer chronology. Either way, bring snacks for long chapters.

Content notes. Sports injury with ankle pain, wraps, and playing hurt discussed responsibly. Past cheating by an ex discussed with hurt. Family worry from distance with calls. Explicit consensual sex with negotiation, humor, and aftercare shown. Alcohol at team events with moderation. Mild language with team talk. No violence beyond hard fouls on courts. Body image talk around athlete pressure handled kindly with food as fuel. A dog? No central animal plot beyond a teammate puppy photo taped inside a locker for luck. The book keeps focus on humans learning to ask for help. That photo gets a smile in every road game. Small comforts travel well. Bring your own version on trips. A picture taped inside. A note in a playbook margin. Something that reminds you who waits at home with ice packs ready and takeout menus saved for late nights after road losses and wins.