P.S. The spice is excellent. But the emotional foreplay? That’s the real plot.
Let me start with a confession: I picked up Mile High expecting a breezy hockey romance with a grumpy-sunshine dynamic and some steamy airport scenes. What I got was a therapy session disguised as a sports romance, and I’m not sure I’ve recovered.
Because both Stevie and Indy are deeply competent, slightly messy women who’ve been let down by “realistic” men. The books aren’t about finding a perfect partner—they’re about what happens when a woman stops lowering the bar . The men seem unreal because our standards have been buried in the dirt.
If you want gritty realism, look elsewhere. If you want a warm hug that challenges what you think you deserve in love—and makes you laugh at a hockey player saying “I’d like to formally apologize for not listening to your rant about overhead bin space”—buckle up. Liz Tomforde has raised the bar, and I’m scared my back will hurt from picking it up.
Here’s an interesting, slightly offbeat review of Liz Tomforde’s Windy City series (focusing on Mile High and The Right Move ), written in the voice of a conflicted but captivated reader: “Liz Tomforde Wrote My Ideal Romance—Then Made Me Question Everything I Believe About Love Stories”
⭐⭐⭐⭐ (4/5) — but that fourth star is clinging on for dear life
And here’s my hot take:
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Liz Tomforde Access
P.S. The spice is excellent. But the emotional foreplay? That’s the real plot.
Let me start with a confession: I picked up Mile High expecting a breezy hockey romance with a grumpy-sunshine dynamic and some steamy airport scenes. What I got was a therapy session disguised as a sports romance, and I’m not sure I’ve recovered.
Because both Stevie and Indy are deeply competent, slightly messy women who’ve been let down by “realistic” men. The books aren’t about finding a perfect partner—they’re about what happens when a woman stops lowering the bar . The men seem unreal because our standards have been buried in the dirt.
If you want gritty realism, look elsewhere. If you want a warm hug that challenges what you think you deserve in love—and makes you laugh at a hockey player saying “I’d like to formally apologize for not listening to your rant about overhead bin space”—buckle up. Liz Tomforde has raised the bar, and I’m scared my back will hurt from picking it up.
Here’s an interesting, slightly offbeat review of Liz Tomforde’s Windy City series (focusing on Mile High and The Right Move ), written in the voice of a conflicted but captivated reader: “Liz Tomforde Wrote My Ideal Romance—Then Made Me Question Everything I Believe About Love Stories”
⭐⭐⭐⭐ (4/5) — but that fourth star is clinging on for dear life
And here’s my hot take: