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Priest Series by Sierra Simone

Priest Series by Sierra Simone

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Title

Priest

There are many rules a priest can't break. A priest cannot marry. A priest cannot abandon his flock. A priest cannot forsake his God.

I've always been good at following rules.

Until she came. Then I learned new rules.

My name is Tyler Anselm Bell. I'm twenty-nine years old. Six months ago, I broke my vow of celibacy on the altar of my own church, and God help me, I would do it again.

I am a priest and this is my confession.

 

Midnight Mass

We are told that God will punish the wicked. That sinful men will reap what they sow. We are told to scourge our souls with prayer and pain to become clean once again.

Well, here I am. Wicked and sinful. Desperate to become clean...even though it feels so good to be dirty.

But even I never expected what came next.

Even I never expected my punishment to come so soon.

 

Sinner


I'm not a good man, and I've never pretended to be. I don't believe in goodness or God or any happy ending that isn't paid for in advance. In fact, I've got my own personal holy trinity: in the name of money, sex, and Macallan 18, amen.

So when the gorgeous, brilliant Zenny Iverson asks me to teach her about sex, I want to say yes, I really do. Unfortunately, there are several reasons to say no--reasons that even a very bad man like myself can't ignore.

1. She's my best friend's little sister.
2. She's too young for me. Like way too young.
3. She's a nun. Or about to be anyway.

But I want her. I want her even with my best friend and God in the way, I want to teach her and touch her and love her, and I know that makes me something much worse than a very bad man.

It makes me a sinner...


Saint

I can't have Elijah Iverson.

I can't have him because he's my older brother's best friend. I can't have him because I broke his heart five years ago; because he's now engaged to someone else—someone kind and dependable who deserves his whiskey eyes, his soft mouth, his fierce intellect.

I can't have Elijah because I've chosen God instead.

The Bell brothers, though . . . well, we don't exactly have the greatest track record with vows. But I'm determined to do this monk thing right—to pledge myself to a cloistered life and spend the rest of my years in chastity and prayer. But now Elijah's here. He's here and he's coming with me on my European monastery road trip, and between the whispered confessions and the stolen kisses and the moments bent over an ancient altar, my vows are feeling flimsier by the day.

And vows or not, I know in my heart that it would take more than a good and holy monk to resist Elijah Iverson right now. It would take a saint.

And we all know that I'm no saint.

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