An all-new Sports Romance in MJ Fields’ Firsts series is out now, and I have an excerpt for you.
“Get out of the way!” a woman booms.
“Oh my—” the other screams.
“What the fuck?” I yell as I get nailed by a sled, and a woman gets flung at me.
“You fool!” The woman who’s lying in the snowbank that launched them at me, to begin with, is laughing her ass off as the other’s back is to my chest, flailing about when my ass hits concrete.
“I am so sorry.” She turns toward me.
“Jesus Christ, Jamie,” I gasp.
“Lord’s name, son.” The woman stands up and dusts herself off, laughing as she looks up at me.
“Carla? What the—You went to my grandmother?” I snap at Jamie.
“You be kind to this one. We worked for two days feeding people.”
“What in the actual—”
“Mitchell Moore, you’re in the presence of a woman of Christ—know your place.”
Jamie is still on my lap, still not saying a thing, jaw hanging down in shock.
“You get her back to her dorm and drag this abomination she calls a sled and thought was a good idea back with you.” She shoves the sled into the snowbank then points at me. “And mind where you’re sitting.”
Jamie looks behind me and jumps up, her feet slipping out from under her because she’s got those fucking cowboy boots on, and she almost lands on her ass.
I grab her and pull her back toward me.
“Bad idea, Giddyap.” She shakes her head.
“Bad idea saving your ass twice from landing on this …” I look back and can’t stop myself from laughing for the first time in days.
“Don’t get any ideas, player.” She stands up, more carefully this time.
“What makes you think that was my idea?” I ask, standing. “You crashed into me.”
She takes her sled and starts to trudge down the path.
“Where are you going?”
“Sledding,” she calls from over her shoulder.
I run to catch up to her. “You sure that’s a good idea? You kind of suck at it.”
She reaches down, scoops up some snow, and throws it in my face.
“You’re begging for an ass-whooping.”
“I’ve had two great days, Mitchell Moore. Don’t you yellow my snow.”
It dawns on me that she’s here, not in Mississippi. “What the hell are you doing here? You’re supposed to be home.”
“Never said I was going home; you assumed.”
I run to catch up with her. “And Carla? What the hell—”
“Trust me, purely coincidental. We worked together on Thanksgiving and the day before.”
“You working in the cafeteria now?”
“At a shelter downtown.”
I shake my head and laugh.
“You are something, Jamie G.”
“Don’t pick on me. It’s what I’d be doing if I had gone home. Good for the soul.”
“Your parents didn’t make you come home?”
She stops and sighs. “Jesus doesn’t do first-class, and I didn’t wanna sit on a bus for four days to spend one at home.”