Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
Off Limits
Dear Reader
Acknowledgements
Book Club
About Jerica MacMillan
Other Titles on Amazon
A Very Marycliff Christmas
Players of Marycliff University Book 7
Jerica MacMillan
A Very Marycliff Christmas
Players of Marycliff University Book 7
Copyright © 2020 by Jerica MacMillan
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
CHAPTER ONE
Abby
The expected knock on the front door brings an irrepressible smile to my face. I’ve been looking forward to today for weeks. Megan is finally here, and I rush to the door to let her in.
True to form, she makes a dramatic entrance, grunting with effort as she dumps all her stuff in a pile just inside the door. “Guh. I’m not used to lugging all my own shit everywhere anymore.” Then she turns a wide smile on me and holds out her arms.
Laughing, I give her a tight hug, happy to see her for the first time in months. While Seattle isn’t really that far away, we’re all so busy that we rarely make the five hour trek across the state. I wasn’t expecting to see her at all this winter—because who wants to drive over the passes for no real reason when the weather’s bad?—but then the university announced Coach Hanson’s retirement and word got around about the party the first weekend in December.
As soon as I heard in October, I was on the phone with Megan to start making plans. I knew there was no way Chris wouldn’t want to come. Coach Hanson is a big part of the reason Chris managed to graduate and worked his ass off to get into the NFL.
Chris and Megan aren’t the only ones coming, either. Our whole friend group from college is making the trek—those of us who aren’t still in town, anyway. Megan’s actually here a few days early, so we can hang out. Chris can’t get away until the day before the party. He suffered a shoulder injury earlier in the season and has to finish his weekly rehab sessions with the team trainers in Seattle.
“It’s good to see you in person for the first time in ages,” I tell her, stepping back and reaching for the pillow she dropped on the floor. “We even have a guest bedroom now, so you won’t have to sleep on the couch.”
“Yippee. Look at us moving up in the world.” She laughs and reaches for her suitcase, following me down the hall to the second bedroom. Lance and I moved over the summer out of our one bedroom and into a larger place. I get the second bedroom as an office, since I work from home, but he insisted that we get a bed in there too so that if our friends or one of his sisters or parents ever decide to visit, they can stay here if they want to.
The odds of his parents or his youngest sister visiting are pretty low. His dad’s running his garage pretty much singlehandedly now that Marissa is off on her own adventure, and Gabby’s tour schedule and notoriety mean that they spring for a hotel when they’re in the area, otherwise we’d run the risk of paparazzi hanging out on our doorstep.
While it’s technically possible that Marissa could come visit, she’s busy getting herself set up in California, so I doubt that’ll happen anytime soon.
“You’re actually our first guest to stay here,” I tell Megan as I place her pillow on the bed.
She parks her rolling suitcase at the foot of the bed and surveys the room, taking in my desk and the framed prints of her paintings—the originals sold for thousands at her show last year—hanging on the walls before she turns to the bed. It’s nothing too fancy, just a decent mattress on a basic frame, with a fluffy sage green comforter and chocolate brown accent pillows. I wanted red or purple or something more bold, but Lance insisted it needed to be neutral so anyone would feel comfortable. Pffft. Boring is more like it, but I have to admit, it’s a soothing palette, even if I would’ve liked something different.
“Nice,” Megan says at last. “Sticking with the green blanket theme, I see.” She cracks a grin, and I laugh too. When we were roommates, she always stole my fuzzy green blanket. I eventually gave it to her when I moved in with Lance. She loved that thing more than I did.
“Of course.” I give her a cheeky grin. “Since I knew you’d end up staying here eventually, green was the only option.”
She cackles and flops down on the bed. “Naturally. This one is almost as good as the original, I have to say. Less fuzzy, more squishy. I approve.”
“Good. I was dying for your approval, you know,” I deadpan. “I lost sleep wondering if you’d like it or not.”
Smile still on her face, she raises one hand and shows me her middle finger, and we both burst out laughing.
“Do you still have my old blanket?” I ask.
She gives me a look like I must be crazy. “Of course. That’s the best blanket ever made. And my bestie gave it to me. I’m not going to just toss it because I move to Seattle. What kind of monster do you take me for?”
With another laugh, I hold up my hands in surrender. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to imply you’re a heartless monster. Just curious.”
“Well, lay your curiosity to rest. Your old blanket is safe and
