You might think that is a strange title for a blog post
about a book that has nothing to do with the Fourth or America specifically.
However, a book called Seducing Their Nun or a reasonable facsimile of
it, could not have been written just anywhere. Here, where freedom still has a
place, where the great experiment has striven to provide an atmosphere of
living the lives we all want—regardless of race, gender or creed—is the only
kind of place where a woman could create a work featuring an entity of the Catholic
church having doubts and taking action. This is not an anti-Catholic book but
nonetheless, the freedoms we still enjoy in our nation would have allowed me to
write even that. We aren’t perfect but we’re about as perfect as we’re going to
find on this earth.
Happy Birthday, America! And long may you continue.
Seducing
Their Nun, Book 1 of the Unlikely Bedfellows series Blurb:
Sister Margaret Mary comes home after her mother's death, never
expecting to find a hidden past. Nor does she suspect that once outside convent
walls, ingrained habits would drop like petals from a flower. Anyone who's
known a girl away from home for the first time, out from under the strict gaze
of her parents, understands her need to fly, to experience all life has to
offer. But new desires—especially for her attorney, Jordan Parnell, and his
friend, Mark Collins—are alien to the nun. She prays for a week of freedom, a
week of feeling like a real woman.
Jordan is captivated by
Catherine Jacobsen's allure before he knows it. Then what? He may call her
Catherine instead of Sister, but she's still a nun. Just when he believes that he and his best friend Mark can
convince Catherine to forsake the convent, a terrible secret puts their future
in doubt.
Buy links:
Amazon US https://www.amazon.com/Seducing-Unlikely-Bedfellows-Publishing-Everlasting-ebook/dp/B0099QF8OY/
Barnes & Noble https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/seducing-their-nun-unlikely-bedfellows-1-jenna-stewart/1113075359
Excerpt:
Quickly taking her place in the pew, she barely had time to say a
decade of the rosary before Father Samuels began Mass. The hour flew by before
she knew it, and then she was at the door.
“Sister Margaret Mary, your habit looks as though you slept in it.”
She dropped her gaze. “I’m sorry, Father. I will launder it today
and take an iron to it.” She glanced into the parking lot. There was no Brendan
Tipton, but no Jordan, either. Disappointment made her heart stutter. Well, she
would rather walk than ride with Tipton again, but she would rather spend a few
extra minutes with Jordan than walk.
“Tipton get you home all right yesterday?”
“Yes, Father.”
“I don’t like that he is showing an interest in you. You must make
him stop.”
She must make him stop? She wanted to ask how Father
Samuels proposed she do that, but she stopped herself in time from saying it.
Then she’d have to confess disrespect to a priest. Her transgressions were
building by the hour. “Yes, Father, although I’m not sure how.”
“The same way Eve should have dispersed the devil in the Garden.
Tell him with firmness to leave you alone. The woman must always set the ground
rules, Sister.”
What did he mean by that? Did he think she had any experience
dealing with men? “Yes, Father.”
“There’s Jordan Parnell. I wonder why he’s here.”
A leap of joy replaced the earlier disappointment, and she jerked
her head up to see for herself. Just as Father said, Jordan was striding toward
them, his eyes on her. He smiled when he saw she noticed him, and there was no
way she could keep from smiling back.
“Hello, Father Samuels,” Jordan said, holding out his hand.
“It’s good to see you, my boy,” the priest responded. “I’m sorry
about your father. He’s sorely missed.”
Father Samuels had said nothing about her mother being missed or
even acknowledging her death. For the first time, Margaret Mary had some
inkling of what life must have been like for her mother, a disgraced woman kept
by the town’s richest citizen, if his cars and actions said anything about
Tipton.
“Thank you, sir.”
“What are your plans now that you’re home?”
Jordan cast a sideways glance at Margaret Mary and said, “Right
now, my plans are to take Sister Margaret Mary home. I’m helping her with the
inventory of her mother’s house.”
“That’s right. Tipton said so yesterday. I’m happy you came to get
her rather than that—” He looked as though he wanted to say more. “Considering
his relationship with her mother, it’s unseemly for him to show so much
interest in her, too.”
“I don’t think we need to talk about that here or now, Father.”
Margaret Mary’s surprise at Jordan’s sharp tone focused her
attention on him. The set of his jaw and the blaze of fire in his blue eyes
were all for the priest. In her experience, no one spoke to a priest like that,
but Jordan appeared unfazed. He seemed fearless.
“Shall we go, Sister?” He held out his hand, and without thinking,
she took it. If Father Samuels thought anything of it, he didn’t make a sound.
Jordan led her to the car and opened the door on the passenger
side. Minutes later, they were on the road, windows down and wind blowing
wildly on her face.
“Do you listen to the radio at the convent?” Jordan asked over the
sound of the wind.
“We used to listen to Bishop Sheen. Now Mother Superior hears the
news and tells us at dinner each night if anything worth knowing happened
during the day.”
“Would you like to listen to some music?”
“If you would.”
He turned a dial, and suddenly a man’s voice filled the auto with a
cheerful song. “Dean Martin,” Jordan said. At the proper point in the song,
right along with the singer, he belted out, “That’s amore!” Then he held out
his finger as though keeping time and queued her to join in with the words at
the next verse. By the time they pulled into the yard, she was laughing more
than singing.
Jordan stopped the car and brought silence when he turned off the
ignition. “I love the sound of your laughter. I was beginning to fear that nuns
never smiled.”
“Oh.” As quickly as her laughter started, it faded away. “We spend
a lot of time in prayer, and that’s very serious.”
“Isn’t there time for fun?”
She had to think. When had she last done anything she termed fun? “Teaching
is sometimes fun. The girls say outlandish things that make the teachers smile.
But I don’t teach. I help keep up the priests’ clothing and the altar cloths. I
am part of the contemplative order.”
He stared at her in such a way that she felt uncomfortable. “Don’t
pity me. I love prayer.” Then why have
you missed doing it so much in the last couple of days? She couldn’t help
but think she was trying to fool God, because at that moment, given the chance
to sit and talk with Jordan or be on her knees in prayer, she would rather be
with him.
“I wasn’t feeling sorry for you. I was thinking how sad it is that
such a beautiful, intelligent woman should have missed so much of life.”
A little about me:
A
few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning
fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk
with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.
After a while, Dee split her
personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and
Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are
found on the Nomad Authors website. And all three offer some of the best romance
you can find! Also, once a month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts,
where your comment can support a selected charity. Sign up for my newsletter
and have access to free reads.
Author
links:
Website: https://nomadauthors.com
Blog:
http://nomadauthors.com/blog
Twitter:
http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight
Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018
Goodreads:
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight
Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN
LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749
Sweet ‘n Sassy
Divas: http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K
