Romantic Comedy Novels: French Kissed | BWWM Pregnancy Romance by Amazon best-selling interracial romance author Jamila Jasper. This story is a republishing of The Coach's Baby, a novella briefly published in 2015. This book has been updated to better fit a contemporary audience and many aspects to the story have been expanded upon and changed.
If you love romantic stories with an interracial pregnancy plot you'll enjoy the story of Milo & Lucy. Their love is complicated. Of course, love can be complicated when you dedicate your entire life to tennis and barely have time for romance. So many of us black women work so hard that we struggle to see when true love is right in front of us.
Maybe our Prince Charming is right across the court from us! Lucy and Milo slowly discover their love for each other over the course of this novel. We see Lucy struggle with her family and her commitment to tennis. With a baby on the way, the plot only thickens.
Keep reading for a gripping first chapter sample of this steamy interracial romance novel, one of our best contemporary interracial romance novellas of the year.
Romance Novel Excerpts: French Kissed
Chapter One
Sitting with Earl meant forgoing relaxation. Since Lucy could remember, her father had always required proper etiquette, full engagement, and appropriate dress whenever he requested a meeting with one of his daughters. Lucy still felt a slight twinge of terror when she was meeting with her father, even if he had mellowed out over the years and she was certainly far stronger than him when it came to physical strength.
He'd ruled over his daughters with an iron fist and age couldn't change the fact that he was her daddy and daddy's word was law.
Lucy waited in the sitting room for her father to come out with “drinks” for the two of them. She wore a deep oxblood dress that highlighted the gorgeous undertones of her dark, mahogany-toned skin. Lucy’s hair coiled densely on top of her head held together in a bun by a strained band. Her dress hit just below her knees and on her feet, she wore a pair of two-inch heels. Anything higher and not only would she tower over her father Earl, but he would be sure to give her a lecture about the impact of high heels on the balls of her feet. She wouldn’t want it to affect her game now, would she?
Lucy could hear the blender stirring up a ruckus from the other room. Of course when Earl said “drinks” he meant a protein shake for Lucy and whiskey on the rocks for himself. Lucy would have rolled her eyes if it wasn’t so entirely predictable of him. Lucy crossed her legs at the ankles and waited, silently glancing at her phone to see if her sister had called. There was nothing from her twin sister, Diana. Of course not. She knew better than to try to stick her head in on days when Lucy and Earl met up to talk tennis.
Earl finally entered with a frothy white protein shake for his daughter and a glass of whiskey for himself. He grunted as he squished into his chair, the impact of sitting down almost seemed to knock the wind out of him. Lucy noticed how much he’d slowed down over the past ten years. He’d aged faster since his wife had fallen sick…
“Here you go doll,” Earl said, gesturing to the tray on the center table. Lucy grabbed the drink and clamped her lips down around the straw, leaving the light imprint of dark, plum lipstick.
“So… How are you doing papa,” Lucy asked.
Earl smiled, “I’m good, doll but you know we ain’t here to discuss how I’m doing.”
Lucy nodded and sighed, “I know. It’s about tennis.”
“Recently, I’ve been watching your tapes and I just think something’s off Lucy. Now… The tournament is soon and I just think you should talk to Milo and come up with something new. I’m paying him all this damned money for what?”
Lucy sighed. Having her father as her manager was both a blessing and a curse.
Lucy answered, “I’m fine dad. You don’t have to worry, Milo’s doing a good job.”
Her coach Milo had been with her for the past five years and Lucy wasn’t interested in finding a new one. Especially not so close to a tournament.
“I don’t know if we should trust him…”
Lucy replied, “Well you say that about everyone and so far Milo has helped me win. A lot. You’re too suspicious.”
“Young lady…”
“I know, I know… I don’t know what to tell you, dad. Milo looked at the tapes and he thinks I’m just tired. I need more rest.”
Earl scoffed, “More rest?! You think you win so many matches because you spend valuable training time resting?”
Lucy knew there was absolutely no getting through to her father. She sipped on the remaining drops of her smoothie and sat quietly, waiting for him to continue speaking.
“Listen, child. I know you think I’m being a hardass for nothing but winning is how we keep your image good. Winning is how we get deals with Adidas or with Gatorade. You know they aren’t exactly racing to you the way they are with Jenny.”
Lucy cringed. Jennifer Winslow was her main tennis rival but she hadn’t managed to beat Lucy once in the past eight years, even if she’d come close a couple of times and had given Lucy a run for her money. Despite her serious losing streak, Jenny had managed to sign deals with Lululemon, Powerade, Nike and more.
Both Lucy and her father knew the reason for that was the fact that Lucy was a black woman. Lucy could dominate on the courts but she had to work twice as hard to get half as much credit as a skinny blonde in the tennis world.
“I’m going to win. I need to win papa,” Lucy said, reassuring her father that she was just as committed to the game as he was.
“I know you do, child. I’m just worried. I want you to be the best…”
“I know.”
“Where’s that sister of yours?” Earl grumbled.
Lucy smiled. Diana might have been right to stay away.
“I think she’s out of town today,” Lucy mumbled before trailing off.
Earl huffed and then twirled his mustache.
“She never comes to see me you know,” He said.
Lucy knew that “never” was an exaggeration but she let Earl have his moment. Ever since his daughters had hit their thirties and spent weeks at a time away from him, he’d taken up exaggerating his loneliness to encourage them to visit more. Lucy was sure he’d made the same desperate plea to her twin sister Diana the last time she had visited.
Lucy’s mood shifted as she thought about Diana and then her mother…
“No talking about mama I guess?”
Earl shook his head, “You ain’t s’posed to worry about her ‘til you’re done that tournament.”
“Y’all are too stubborn,” Lucy muttered.
Earl smiled, “Damn right we are. Now, don’t you have practice?”
Lucy rolled her eyes, “I think I can keep my schedule in mind on my own papa…”
“Why’s your ass still sitting here, then? You need to be committed to winning Lucy. If I don’t see some changes I’ll get rid of that Milo fella…”
“Papa!”
“Don’t chastise me, girl. Get down to practice so you can play better,” He said gruffly.
Lucy brought her empty glass into the kitchen and then kissed her father good-bye. Sometimes his criticisms could be too harsh. He’d been managing his daughter since her tennis career began and sometimes the line between manager, coach and father blurred too much. When Earl finally retired from coaching Lucy directly, his grasp on her life had eased up a bit. But these days, Earl was finding creative ways to get an “in” to micromanage Lucy’s tennis career.
She drove back home at the tennis court entrance of her house where Milo would be waiting. He was consistently ten minutes early and always carried on with Lucy about her chronic “lateness” which really meant being right on time.
As expected, Milo’s Audi was already parked there. Years of high-level coaching meant Milo could afford more than a couple sports cars with six-figure price tags. Lucy wasn’t impressed by it at all. She always thought guys who drove flashy cars tried way too hard.
“Lucy… You’re late,” Milo said as Lucy walked into her training room adjacent to the courts.
She ignored his comment and locked the door behind her. Lucy looked in the mirror at her shapely muscles and curves. After tennis practice, she’d need to hit the squat bar badly. Lucy knew that for most women, her strength would be a dream come true. But the truth was, having a body that looked nearly perfect meant hours and hours of training and sculpting. Sometimes the upkeep could get exhausting. One of the few things keeping Lucy going was the thought that she would be retiring soon. There was no way she would turn forty and still be playing this game…
Lucy changed into her tight white Nike skort that hugged the curves of her thighs and the shape of her thick ass. On her upper body, she squeezed her breasts into a custom-made sports bra. Lucy slipped into her tennis shoes and added a white headband to the entire outfit. She removed her piercings, makeup, and jewelry and then shoved them all into her gym bag. Now it would be time to face Milo’s “wrath” at her lateness and hit as hard as she could. She needed to prove her father wrong. At the very least, that might earn her a real weekend off with no training for the first time in years…
She walked outside onto the court with her recently restrung tennis racquet. Milo was excellent at keeping her equipment in perfect working order.
“Ready to hit?”
Lucy nodded. When Milo started a workout nicely, she knew that she was in for trouble down the road. She took a deep breath and started their usual warm up. Today, Lucy’s breath felt thick in her lungs. She knew that things had barely started but her mind was somewhere else, slowing her down. Keep this up any longer and she’d be forced to admit that her father was right about her training.
By the time Lucy was done with her workout, she was dripping with sweat. Her outfit still looked pristine and white as she walked to her cooler for a drink of water. Milo followed her with his hands on his hips.
“Lucy… That was awful,” he chided.
Lucy glared at him as she wiped the sweat off her brow.
Lucy nodded, “Earl thinks so too. He took the time out of his day this morning to tell me he thinks I’ve been playing like garbage.”
Milo grinned, “He doesn’t mince words does he?”
Lucy shook her head and took a big drink of ice cold water.
“No. He doesn’t.”
“Well take an extra five minutes. I think we should talk about this.”
“I don’t need to talk, I need to play,” Lucy replied.
Her gaze intensified and Milo caught a glimpse of that fierceness in her eyes that he loved. He wouldn't have it any other way with his clients. Lucy had always been a delight to train.
She had that fiery look in her eye that Milo loved. No matter how much Lucy might deny it, tennis was her life. She cared every bit about winning as her father did. This wasn’t a life that he’d forced on her, even if she thought so during her times of weakness. Milo stood across from Lucy with his arms folded, waiting for her to adjust to the idea of actually talking through their strategy together. A part of what made Milo a good coach was his strategy.
Lucy sat down on the bench and glared at the tennis court before her.
“Earl thinks we need to change things. He thinks I need to train harder. Or do something different.”
“I agree.”
“You're my coach," Lucy scoffed, "Not Earl's."
Milo was used to her harsh tone, so he ignored it and continued, “Yes, I am your coach. And I think that Mr. Walters is right.”
Lucy glared at him again.
“Listen, Lucy, you’re training hard but there has to be something wrong.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Lucy snapped.
“Well if you know so much, why don’t you fix it?” Milo hit back.
Lucy didn’t respond and took another swig of water. Right now, all she wanted to do was take out her anger at her father and Milo about this. She’d been practicing her ass off but match after match, she could feel that things weren’t getting better.
“Maybe I’ve hit my peak… Maybe I’m just getting old,” Lucy mumbled.
“Old? You’re thirty-four Lucy. I’m the old one around here.”
“Hm.”
“Listen… Why don’t we compromise? We switch up your training but I’ll let you have more input. Earl should be happy and you can build in some more time for rest and recovery.”
“You really think he’ll let that slide?”
“I’ll talk to him, tell him it’s what’s best.”
Lucy grumbled, “Good. And stop riding my ass so hard.”
“That’s what you pay me for ma cherie.”
Lucy winced at his use of the word “ma cherie”. She’d begged Milo to stop calling her these silly diminutive names around a thousand times and she was sick of it. Frenchmen were different, he'd claimed. And he'd used his French heritage as an excuse to keep up the diminutive phrase.
Milo had more than a French tendency for pet names. He also had French confidence and integrity. He wasn't afraid to push her hard, on and off the court. He understood Lucy's psychology better than anyone. The only person who knew her better was Diana.
Every once in a while when Milo let slip one too many "ma cherie"'s Lucy struggled not to bite back. She’d been treated like she was less than men her entire life, even if she could squat more than they could or deadlift more… or tear them apart on the tennis court.
But today Lucy was tired. All she wanted was to end the practice and go visit Diana. She picked herself up off the bench, feeling that itch to get her heart racing and looked Milo square in the face before saying, “Let’s get started. I’ll show you just how much improvement I need.”
“That’s my girl,” Milo answered, standing back and watching her walk onto the court.
There was something alluring about that woman. No matter how tough and unapproachable she could seem, there was a deep beauty in her strength.
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