Once upon a time, I was a rebel. And I have the tattoo to prove it.
Then there was the spiked hair–the shade of which changed monthly–“colorful” language that can’t be found in your everyday sixteen-count crayon box, a pack-a-day habit, less-than-modest wardrobe, and an obsession with guitar-trashing, drum-bashing music.
Did I mention I’m also a preacher’s kid? That’s right. And like the prodigal son after whom I modeled myself, I finally saw the error of my ways and returned to the fold.
Today my life is all about “lead me not into temptation.” When I’m not serving as Women’s Ministry Director at my father’s church, I’m working at Gloria’s Morning Café. I even have worthy goals, like saving enough money to buy the café, keep my Jelly Belly habit under control, and to never again hurt the people I love. No more parties. No more unsavory activities. And no more motorcycles! You’d think I was finally on the right track.
But since my dad’s replacement hired a hotshot church consultant to revive our “dying” church, things aren’t working out as planned. And now this “consultant” says I’m in need of a little reviving myself. Just who does this Maddox McCray think he is anyway? With his curly hair that could use a good clipping, tattoo that he makes no attempt to hide, and black leather pants, the man is downright dangerous. In fact, all that’s missing is a motorcycle. Or so I thought… But if he thinks he’s going to take me for a ride on that 1298cc machine of his, he can think again. Harriet Bisset is a reformed woman, and she’s going to stay that way. Even if it kills me!
From the Trade Paperback edition.
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|Title of Romance eBook: Splitting Harriet||Series: Southern Discomfort, , #3|
|Release Date: 06-17-2009|
|Allowed Countries (hover)|
|Publisher: The Doubleday Religious Publishing Group|
This eBook download is available in the following formats:
|Parent title||Splitting Harriet|
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So feel away, girl! Forget all your troubles. Forget Harley–the pig! Jason–the swine! Blade, the oinker! Oh, and don’t forget to forget your family–church and otherwise. Just feel.
Closing my eyes, I command my body to feel the beat of the music that pounds from the speakers as I move with…
Um, let’s call him Contestant Number One.
He pulls me closer than a good girl should allow. Fortunately for him, I don’t fall into that category. At least, not anymore. This twenty-year-old preacher’s kid–a.k.a. “PK”–is four years beyond that. And counting.
So tired of counting–
And I’m tired of this stupid little voice in my head that has been gathering volume ever since I was the recipient of a black eye and found myself homeless three months ago. Fortunately, a drinking buddy took me in. Unfortunately, she’s more of a mess than I, which is how she ended up in an ambulance after I found her on the bathroom floor this morning. The good news is that she’ll be all right–at least until she begs, borrows, or steals enough money to finance her habit. The bad news is that it shook me. Good thing I don’t do drugs.
What do you call the alcohol swimming through your veins?
“It’s legal,” I slur, conveniently overlooking that IR...