This book is like if The Queen’s Gambit had a lovechild with a classic rom-com. It follows Mallory Greenleaf, a girl who swore off competitive chess after it wrecked her family, but gets dragged back into the game after beating a world champion (who just so happens to be ridiculously charming, annoyingly talented, and, yes, very attractive). Enter Nolan Sawyer: aloof, intense, and not at all used to losing, especially to someone like Mallory. Mallory is sharp, funny, and stubborn in the best way. She’s dealing with a lot: family obligations, guilt, burnout, and still manages to kick butt at chess. The banter between her and Nolan is everything. Ali Hazelwood nails the tension and witty back-and-forth, and every scene between them is packed with chemistry. For a book about chess (a game I barely understand), this was surprisingly emotional. Themes of grief, pressure, and rediscovering your passion hit harder than expected. Was it a little predictable? Sure. Did I care? Not at all. Sometimes you want the slow burn, the inevitable kiss, the “enemies-to-lovers-but-with-mutual-respect” vibe, and this delivered it all with charm.

Okay, The Seven Year Slip is one of those books that sneaks up on you emotionally. It starts off feeling kind of quirky and magical, with a New York apartment that lets people time-slip seven years into the past (yes, it's as cool as it sounds). But then it hits you with all these quiet, heartfelt moments that really stick. The story follows Clementine, a book publicist still grieving the loss of her beloved aunt, and Iwan, a chef she meets… except he’s from the past. The time travel element is soft and whimsical, more about emotional timing than sci-fi logistics. It asks, “What if you meet the right person at the wrong time?” and really leans into that idea. What really got me, though, was the way it beautifully describes grief, how it lingers, changes you, and sometimes arrives when you least expect it. I’ve lost immediate family members at times I never saw coming, and reading this, I understood how the characters felt. I’m not even kidding, I cried at work. Poston captures that quiet ache of missing someone in a way that feels so real, it really got to me. Clementine and Iwan’s chemistry is sweet and slow-burn, and their conversations about loss, love, and figuring yourself out feel deeply personal. Plus, the writing is cozy, lyrical, and gentle but emotionally precise. It’s got heart, a touch of magic, and a reminder that people change, and that’s okay.