REBEL PRIEST
Contents
rebel priest
rights
praise
description
note
dedication
epigraph
one
two
three
four
five
six
seven
eight
nine
ten
eleven
twelve
thirteen
fourteen
fifteen
sixteen
seventeen
eighteen
nineteen
twenty
twenty-one
twenty-two
twenty-three
twenty-four
twenty-five
twenty-six
twenty-seven
twenty-eight
twenty-nine
thirty
thirty-one
epilogue
Savage Rose
description
one
rebel priest playlist
podcast
a note
about adriane
more from adriane
REBEL PRIEST
Love & Other Drugs Duet #1
By
Adriane Leigh
Copyright 2020 by Adriane Leigh
All names and characters are a work of fiction.
Please do not replicate or plagiarize art on penalty of perjury.
Editing: Silently Correcting Your Grammar
Hot Reviews!
"Hot, emotional, and full of twists and turns!"
- Leylah Attar,
New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author
★★★★★
"The whole time I was reading Whiskey Girl I felt like I was reading beautiful poetry. Fallon and Augusta's story will prove to you that soulmates do exist and that second chances are worth fighting for."
- Aurora Rose Reynolds,
New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author
★★★★★
"Whiskey Girl was a raw, gritty second chance romance threaded with a country music theme about first-time love, second chances, regrets, heartbreak and a love that never ceased to burn despite everything that stood in its way. Adriane Leigh delivered a beautiful slow burn second chance romance that truly made us feel with twists that made our hearts plummet and soar."
- TotallyBooked Blog
★★★★★
"An exceptionally written forbidden romance that needs to be savored. Prose is absolutely stunning and reminiscent of some of my favorite literary fiction writers. Bastien and Tressa's story is an unforgettable one that will grace my favorites shelf."
- Auden Dar, Bestselling Author
★★★★★
"With prose that is beautiful and confident, affecting without being maudlin-Whiskey Girl squeezed my heart while continuously bringing tears of joy to my eyes, and I had to take a very long, deep breath in the end to fully absorb all the emotions it left in me. I was totally captivated from the first page and it left me in absolute awe of this author's talent-every moment between these characters leapt from the page with profound emotion. This was undoubtedly one of the most moving books I've read in a long time."
- Natasha is a Book Junkie
★★★★★
"Sizzling chemistry, a glamorous world, plot twists...a perfect combination held together with Adriane Leigh's addictive writing. I dove into this world, and didn't want to come up for air. I can't wait for more!"
- Alessandra Torre,
New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author
★★★★★
"Sexy. Hot. Leigh leaves you wanting more!"
- K. Bromberg,
New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author
★★★★★
"Blindsight is an intense, erotic mystery that kept me turning the pages. I can't stop thinking about this story!"
- Raine Miller,
New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author
★★★★★
"Adriane Leigh never disappoints with equal amounts of heat and heart with all the sex, suspense and scandal in Blindsight. Leigh's newest mysterious hero will have you anxiously flipping pages well into the night trying to uncover his secrets."
- Jay Crownover,
New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author
★★★★★
"I was riveted on the edge of my seat from the pulse-pounding prologue to the heart-stopping end. The suspense keeps you in delicious anticipation while the sex scenes steam up your kindle. I can't wait to see how the story unfolds!"
- Katie Ashley,
New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author
★★★★★
"Nothing, and I mean NOTHING could have prepared me to face this incredible story. It's almost impossible not to be addicted to this author's writing. A delicate prose that will wrap your heart around her words in such a way that you will forget all the books that came before. A well deserved recognition for this author and the ability that she has to make you feel her words as if they were yours--it felt like those old and thick books that with the very few pages you read, transported you to places you'd never imagine to reach. This is a book you have to take the time to savor. What I can say is that this is one of the best forbidden romances I've read this year. If not EVER. Not only for the well constructed storyline or the unique characters; it's mainly because this author took the risk to turn a plot like this in something magnificent and exquisite. It will definitely push your boundaries but at the end, it'll be all worth it. I truly recommend it to anyone who wants a story to remember.
- Carolina Leon, GoodReads Reviewer
★★★★★
"6 Sinfully addictive stars! This book, the story, was unlike any other I've read. It was addicting, captivating, forbidden, and oh. So. Good! The writing was beautiful, the characters were spot on and pulled you into their story. When they hurt, you hurt, when they swooned, you swooned, and there was A LOT to swoon over! When a story is written like this, when you can feel every single emotion falling off the page. Adriane knew exactly what she was doing with this story in every way and I can't applaud her enough for this one."
- A.R. Myles, Bestselling Author
"Hot, emotional, and full of twists and turns!"
- Leylah Attar,
New York Times, USA Today,
and Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author
From USA Today Bestselling Author Adriane Leigh comes a searing standalone love story with a jaw-dropping twist...
When the bottom finally falls out of Tressa Torrado's life and she's given an eviction notice for her one-bedroom walk-up, she lands at the first place that'll have her--and the last place she'd expect to find herself.
Father Bastien Castaneda is trained to heal the wounded of his flock, his warrior strength and mysterious moral fortitude as intoxicating as any superpower. Soon they're working side by side together--chemistry simmering to a boiling point as two desperate hearts find the will to live again while forbidden love lights like lighter fluid in their hearts.
But it isn't long before secrets so explosive come to light it torches the very foundations of their belief, and only time will tell if theirs is a love strong enough to survive the inevitable fall.
"Adriane Leigh's best so far. A masterpiece." - Nelle L'Amour, New York Times Bestselling Author
"An exceptionally written forbidden romance that needs to be savored. Prose is absolutely stunning and reminiscent of some of my
favorite literary fiction writers. Bastien and Tressa's story is an unforgettable one that will grace my favorites shelf." - Auden Dar, Bestselling Author
Note: Rebel Priest was first written as a novella in 2013 in the Forbidden Fruit Volume II Anthology under the name Sins of the Flesh, and then as a full-length standalone titled Rebel Saint in 2018. Minor characters, situations, and scenes have been added to enhance the story.
For the
rebels and the saints,
and anyone who’s ever
given up
on love.
Every revolution begins in the heart.
ONE
Bastien
Chilled snowflakes lit on my cheeks as I pushed open the heavy wooden doors. The scent of ancient incense and fresh snow flirted at my nostrils as I tucked the key into the pocket of my clerical slacks and got to work clearing the fresh powder from the stone steps. St. Michael’s was a small parish that’d welcomed me with open arms when I’d been called to lead its flock.
They were a small and loyal group, and while it wasn’t often I experienced a rush of traffic to my morning confessional—one or two souls never failed to wander in. While a suburb of Philadelphia may not have been my first choice of transfer from the diocese, I’d grown accustomed to my new home well enough. In the years since I’d left Havana with my older sister, I’d seen her little, and that’s what haunted my heart most mornings.
My young nephew, growing up on the toughest streets of Brooklyn, no father figure to guide him, and me two hours away by train. Whenever the prospect for reassignment came up I’d always requested All Saints, just a handful of blocks from my sister and her son in the city, but my transfer had never been approved. I was being called elsewhere and I’d made peace with the rare monthly visits when I or she had enough time to meet up—but as Cruz had grown up and she’d had to work longer hours to cover his expenses, I’d seen them less and less.
I stepped back into the cool air of the old church, stiff white collar snugly comforting at my throat as I rubbed the pad of my thumb over the crisp edge and wondered who my first parishioner of the morning would be.
Usually Ms. Watson was first in, sometimes as early as just after dawn, but lately she hadn’t been turning up for her before-Mass rosary and prayers until well after nine. I tapped the key in my slacks again, slipping behind the dark curtain of the confessional in search of my personal Bible when a soft thud drew my attention. I continued to grope in the dark, eyes still not adjusted to the early morning light. Most mornings I unlocked the doors by six, but not often did someone take their devotions that seriously.
And then a soft snick of worn wood inches from my ear sent all of my senses on high alert.
“Hello?” I ventured through the black iron that separated the two small spaces.
No answer, but I heard the soft rustling of a winter coat behind the screen.
I swallowed, turning fully to face the sound and catching the soft shadow of a form in the other booth.
“I’m afraid I’m not quite ready to hear your confession, child.”
Slow quiet beats stretched before a voice as quiet as a mouse uttered, “I-I don’t think you want my confession.”
The tone was so small, so lacking a sense of pride of self, it nearly cracked my heart. Broken didn’t begin to describe the feeling that was drifting across the confessional towards me.
“I would love nothing better in fact,” I settled my behind on the wooden bench seat. “I’m prepared to mend all the Lord’s flock.”
“I’m more black sheep than obedient lamb, Father—I can’t help but fuck up every flock I find.” Bitterness whispered on her lips with her curse, catching in her throat and causing shudders to crack her otherwise calm facade. I found myself wondering what she might look like—slender or curvy, skin fair or bronzed, whether her lips were a shade of berry or crimson.
“I’m sure that’s not true, everyone is lead astray by earthly delights—whatever they may be—I’m not here to judge them.”
She was quiet, but I heard her slow steady breaths. I narrowed my eyes, peering through the filigree of the confessional window separating us, the soft curve of a cheekbone, a lock of hair, the scent of something floral and soft clinging to her flesh.
I imagined she was beautiful, I didn’t need to see her to feel it. It was in the way she moved so gracefully, even when she didn’t think anyone could see her.
And then I chastised myself instantly—I couldn’t see her, and nor should I be trying.
I cleared my throat and tore my eyes away from the deceiving shadow playing tricks with my vision, leaning away to free the chains her sweet scent had locked me in.
“Perhaps if you relieve the burden of shame you carry you’ll see the future through bright eyes.” She didn’t reply to my gentle encouragement, and so I continued. “Most of the confessions I hear start with ‘Forgive me Father for I have sinned…’”
She was quiet still, only the soft sound of fabric ghosting together in quiet song on my ears—all of my senses hyper aware since she’d sank herself inside my confessional only moments ago. I’d never been so drawn to a stranger before—and certainly not someone in my confessional.
“This isn’t my first time confessing,” she said, “this little box used to make me feel so…at home.” I caught a glimpse of her shadowed fingers trailing down the iron gates of the screen that separated us, its presence suddenly feeling more like a cage that kept two people apart than ever before.
“So you’ve found yourself in my confessional to…sit?”
The soft lilt of her chuckle sent a thrill of adrenaline down my spine.
“I suppose so.” She was still trailing her fingertips along the outline of the grates, the morning sun reflecting just enough though a crack in the curtain now to reveal one dainty fingertip.
I swallowed.
“You’re welcome to take whatever time you need. I don’t expect anyone will be rushing to take your place.” I shifted, the urge to escape bubbling up inside of me. “Is there…something I can get you to make you more comfortable?”
I felt the smile in her voice before I heard it in her words. “What? Like a blanket?”
I faltered, not expecting her sarcasm. “If that’s what you need—”
“My coat is soaked through—my landlord evicted me yesterday and I tried to sleep in my car but—”
“You slept in your car last night?” I halted her.
“I tried. I couldn’t do it, the shelters were full so I went to the all-night arcade that used to be around the corner but it turns out that it’s not an arcade anymore—”
“I’m sorry—forgive my forwardness, but do you need a place to stay? That’s actually something I can help you with.” I stood without thinking and stepped out of the confessional, prepared to sweep the curtain back on hers before thinking better of it. “If you come here I can show you what I mean.”
Quiet filled all of the corners of my church, it was a wonder she couldn’t hear my heart slamming in anxious beats behind my chest.
And then the curtain parted, dainty fingertips splitting the soft fabric seams before a cascade of dark hair peaked out, followed by the most startling shade of black-brown eyes I’d ever seen. Her cheekbones were high, angled up to warm waves of chocolate hair that kinked and curled in different arrangements. Her skin was a creamy shade of light cocoa that left the tips of my fingers screaming for just a brief caress. And her lips, slightly parted and flushed a honeyed plum that looked alarming against the shade of her skin.
She was startling in her beauty.
God I wanted to touch her. I hadn’t wanted a woman like this ever, my life of celibacy established long before my official entry into the priesthood. I’d only just laid eyes on her alarming face—the angles highlighted and inviting in the soft morning light. I didn’t even know her name and I was riveted and hanging on tender-hooks for her first words.
“I should go, thank you though—”
> “Don’t.” I caught her wrist, then pulled away as if her skin had seared my fingers.
“Why?”
“Well,” I cleared my throat, thrusting out a hand once before her eyes darted down and she slid my palm in hers. I shook her hand warmly, encouraging her to follow me with a nod as I turned to my sacristy. “The church actually keeps a few cottages for visitors or anyone in need of assistance.” I chanced a glance behind me, pleased to find her following. “I’m afraid they’re pretty dated and can be cold in the winter, but they’ve been sitting empty since I’ve been here.”
“I couldn’t possibly be an imposition, honestly—I didn’t come here to ask anything of you—”