He examines it a bit, turning it around and then right side up again, and then it finally dawns on him what he’s looking at. With brilliant blue eyes scanning mine, as if to say, “Is this what I think it is?” I nod affirmatively.
“You’re pregnant?” he croaks and places a gentle hand on my belly. “We’re going to have a baby?”
Tears stream down my cheeks, and I smile a happy, wide smile. “Not just any baby, Kellan. This kid is going to be both a Flying Ace and the king of the slopes someday. Of that I am sure.”
The End
About the Author
If you enjoyed this short, sports romance, you can find all of Sierra Hill’s sports romance novels on her website at www.sierrahillbooks.com
One More Kiss
Tara September
About
One More Kiss
An Enemies-to-Lovers College Romance
April Harris has nothing in common with hunky track star Cal Chase except a shared dorm room wall and an inconvenient connecting door. Until one evening under the stars changes everything, even April’s previous ambivalence to making out. Determined to prove the stellar experience was a fluke, April goes on a kissing mission. Little does she know that Cal is equally set to prove that their out-of-this-world kiss was just their beginning.
Chapter One
April Harris
Boom, boom!
“Come on, April, wake up!”
“Go away!” I manage a muffled shout, but most of my reply is muted by my oh-so soft pillow, beckoning me back to blissful slumberland.
Bang, bang! “April, get your ass out of bed. You have plenty of time to sleep when you’re dead,” Amerie Clinton yells back.
Now, didn’t that make death sound almost desirable?
Annoyed, I fling my pillow at the back of my dorm room door and hear my friends’ laughter on the other side. “Fine, I’m up!” I shout. This better be worth it.
“Hurry, we’re going to miss it,” my other friend Jacquie, who also goes by Jax, calls out from the other side of the door.
Groggily, I hop down from my elevated twin bed, stacked higher thanks to two cement slabs under each foot. Still grumbling, I slip on a pair of tie-dye joggers, which I’d had the foresight to place on my desk chair before going to bed last night so I’d be ready for this.
Getting up at four a.m. had sounded like a good idea yesterday, in the dining hall, when my friends had brought up going to view the Leonid meteor shower. Now, I want to slap my eight-hours-ago self for agreeing. All right, so it was one of those once-in-a-lifetime opportunities, but I’m majoring in English with a minor in Psychology. It’s not like I’m going to be an astrologist or a meteorologist or whatever.
I pause, debating whether to put on a bra and a different shirt, but I opt for leaving on the ribbed tank top that I slept in and reach for my hoodie, only to remember that I still haven’t gotten the missing zipper pull fixed. I sling it on, but since I can’t zip it up, I tug the comforter off my bed in a swift motion that would have made a magician proud. Somehow my teddy bear remains in the same spot, even after I’ve wrapped the buffalo check plaid duvet around my shoulders and hug it to my chest. I need to try that blanket-pulling trick again when I’m not half delirious. For now, I shove my bare feet into my well-worn UGG boot dupes and open the door to my single.
The jarring fluorescent lighting above my two friends and their boyfriends leaves me squinting and wanting to turn around all over again.
“No, you don’t,” Jax warns, tugging on my comforter and pulling me out fully into the hallway with them. She reaches past me and grabs the keys hanging above the light switch in my room, then lassos the lanyard around my neck. “There we go, ready?” she asks, firmly shutting the entrance back to dreamland.
I stare her down like she’s the grinch of Snoozeville, which she is. Several curses and unkind replies flutter through my mind, but I release them with my pent-up breath. There was no going back to bed now, so no use sulking. I might as well get this over with.
“I can’t wait,” I say with an over-the-top brightness that would make an anchorwoman proud. Given the eye rolls I receive, my friends aren’t fooled or amused. Brady Hale, Amerie’s boyfriend, at least snickers at my attempt to be positive. I wouldn’t have expected their match in a million years, but it seems to be working out, given the annoying honeymoon stage they are still in.
“What’s going on?” asks an unexpected male voice to our right. Several of us jump, but I recognize that voice, and it’s not welcomed so early in the morning … or at any time. Turning, I take in a bare-chested Cal Chase peering out from his opened door. I tell myself that I don’t like what I see.
Liar, liar, even my joggers feel on fire.
