Amazon
Romancing the Mystery of Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow
Phaze
All Romance eBooks
Category:
Romance
Publisher: Phaze
ISBN-10: 1594268274
Type: Fiction
ISBN-13: 9781594268274
A contemporary erotic M/F romance with a happily ever after.
Bianca is in prison for killing a cop. A powerful clergyman helps her to escape and sets her up with a new identity. A year and a half later when the governor pardons her, there is something the preacher has that Bianca desperately needs him to return. Enter Desi, the tattooed rocker bad boy son of the preacher man. He's oozing sex yet refuses to oblige. Bianca is frustrated with Desi for stubbornly standing in the way her goal...or has the preacher pulled some divine rank, forcing their bodies and souls to collide?
Excerpt
Excerpt from Son of a Preacher Man
By Sammie Jo Moresca
Lorna lay on her side, her eyes fixated on the dirty white air conditioning vent in the wall near the ceiling. Not that it had blown down cool on her. Laughter and bickering filled the cellblock. Her head hurt so bad over her left temple that her eye wouldn't stop weeping. These involuntary one sided tears were the only pseudo-emotion she had left.
The keys jangling outside her cell caused her to cringe and turn toward the drab gray-green cinderblock wall. Why won't that despicable guard just leave me alone?
"Come and walk with me. God will carry you," said Reverend Bobby McNaughton.
Lorna slowly rolled onto her back and rubbed her eye. She pushed herself up and accepted the man's uncalloused hand. His brown hair kissed the shoulders of his tailored black suit. She saw the curl of compassion in his lips that were surrounded by a well groomed beard. He helped her to her feet. She smoothed the gray prison blouse over her big belly. The baby kicked.
With a Bible tucked under one arm and the other one around Lorna's round shoulders, the preacher led her out of the cell and past the guard who always took pleasure in screwing with her mind. She shuddered. The reverend hugged her tighter. "Everything will be all right. Never question His way."
* * *
One Year Later
Tuesday afternoon, Bianca arrived at the Alabama worship hall of the Reverend Bobby McNaughton, planning to confront him about a sensitive matter. The pale, yellow grass contrasted against the brown leaves littering the edge of the woods. Moss slithered around the trunks of second growth oaks. Spring was stubborn this year.
The parking lot hosted only seven vehicles. It could have held seven thousand. She parked her white hard-topped Jeep. The afternoon sun beat down on the windshield, warming her. As Bianca shoved the door open, her cell phone dropped onto the concrete. She stumbled out and grabbed it. A pulsating rumble approached. Smoothing her gray, knee-length skirt, she stood and shut her door, careful to lock it.
He parked his Harley in the space next to her. She focused on his tattooed arms as he revved it up three times. He looked over at Bianca with the scariest eyes she had ever seen. She shuddered and hurried across the lot to the walkway.
She sat on a cold stone bench, carved in memory of someone's son. Looking at a side doorway, she could hear the gaggle of middle-aged women who congregated with cameras, bibles and fried chicken.
"Hi Desi," they cooed.
The tattooed man said, "Hello." He nodded and pushed the intercom button. Someone buzzed him into the reflective glass door.
So that was Desiderio McNaughton. Late twenty-something problem child of his righteous father, the great Revered Bobby McNaughton. The tabloids had chronicled Junior's life story, from high school high-jinks to his last overdose. There's probably one in every family. Kids of cops and preachers sometimes are the most troubled. She snorted. Yep, I'm the former and look at what trouble I jumped into.
And that's how it went for the next four days. Bianca paced around the grounds of Fort God, waiting and watching for Reverend McNaughton. His female followers held vigil, sometimes singing hymns. Nobody ever penetrated the entrance to the church, except Desi. The doors remained locked. Worshipers were only allowed in on Sundays.
On Friday at five o'clock, Bianca realized this wasn't working. She'd have to find another way to get to see the reverend. The ladies had all left, and she decided to take a quick reconnaissance stroll around the grounds. Stained glass windows in teal, amber, and blood-red animated the beige stucco façade.
A rear door flung open. Bianca's breath hitched.
Desi stepped out. Shoulder length wavy black hair, full beard, neatly trimmed. And those scary cerulean eyes. Wild, don't-you-dare, I'll-kill-you, give-me-a-chance, please-love-me eyes.
©2008 Sammie Jo Moresca
|
