Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 97(@200wpm)___ 77(@250wpm)___ 64(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 97(@200wpm)___ 77(@250wpm)___ 64(@300wpm)
Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.
I was born and raised a God-fearing woman, but Father Reed Murphy stoked the fires of hell inside me. I can tell he’s different. Not the same run-of-the-mill priest they keep sending to our town.
And I know what I’m doing is wrong. But why does it feel so right to sin at his side?
Reed
I’m out of my depth and out of my mind.
I play a priest in the parish while dangerous men hunt for my head. It’s not the way I saw my great escape going. But the second my gaze fell on Valerie Garett, she was mine … we just didn’t know it yet.
I’m on the run and locked in place. Stuck in a tiny town with a literal boatload of cash waiting to sail off into the sunset. But I can’t leave without her. She stole my heart with her perfect smile, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe.
Good God, up above, I know I don’t do this often.
But tonight, I pray you’ll give me the strength to do what I must.
close your eyes f a n t a s i z e
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
REED
“What can I get ya, hon?” the elderly waitress asks while she fiddles with the yellow-paged notebook. A crooked nameplate hangs from her lilac shirt reading, Debby—an old-timey name for an old-timey woman.
“Burger and fries will do. Toss in a tall glass of soda with lots of ice. Unless you’ve got something stronger.” Cola ain’t gonna cut it. Not after what I just went through. I’m a damned king among paupers in this diner, but my sins are lying in wait at the bottom of a bottle.
“Stronger?” She brings a wrinkled finger under her chin and looks at the ceiling while she thinks. “There might be some cooking wine in the back if that’s your sorta thing. Other than that, we’re a dry bar.”
“No sneaky gin under the table? Or a little whiskey to give the coffee an extra kick?” I wave the idea of wine off reluctantly. It isn’t my beverage of choice, and with the awkward glare and shaking of her head, I know my wishes won’t be answered tonight. “Soda will do.”
“Coming right up,” she says, scribbling my order down on her pad and slipping behind the counter. She attaches the sheet with my order onto a line for the cook to collect before heading to the other end of the bar and talking to a rotund man.
The sack of lard sits at the end of the table, with a goofy grin splashed across his patchy bearded face. When he isn’t fixated on shoveling forkfuls of bacon into his mouth, his beady little eyes are set firmly in my direction.
The first instance of doubt creeps in. Does he know? Does he recognize my face? No, of course not. He can’t. I just got here, and the news wouldn’t have traveled this fast.
But I understand where the nerves come from. A deep, forgotten place that I’ve long ago abandoned in the darkest recesses of my mind. After the hell I unleashed in Philadelphia, there’s no surprise that any prying eye will make me jittery. But what if he does know? What if he’s waiting for me to slip, lower my guard?
My hand slides under the table, instinctively reaching for the gun strapped to an ankle holster. Still there, cold to the touch, ready to be fired again.
Calm down, Reed. You’re getting worked up over nothing. It’s a short stay in Aurora. A few days at max before you take that big, beautiful boat onto the waters and disappear to some beautiful Caribbean Island.
You can do this. Just breathe.
A quick scan of the diner sets my mind at ease. It’s not just the lard sack at the end of the bar; all the patrons have a strange gaze directed toward me. It’s counter-intuitive to think more eyes means less danger, but in my case, it shouldn’t take a genius to figure out why they’re all gawking.
I’m a new face in a town with fewer than a thousand people. But I can’t let it lull me into a false sense of security. Anyone in here can recognize me, call the cops, and get my ass hauled off to prison.
The fat man raises a hand in a feeble wave. My neck crooks, and I shoot him an awkward glare. Still, I return the wave with the hand that moments ago fingered the weapon I’d have happily taken his life with.
“Excuse me, miss. Why’s that man staring at me?” I ask Debby as she returns to my side of the bar.
“Because we’ve been waiting for you.” She raises a brow of her own and crosses her arms over her breasts. “You are him, aren’t you?”
“I’m somebody, sure, but I can’t say I’m him. Not until I know who—” The sound of a ringing bell cuts me off. Another set of patrons enter.