Lark got her BA in Theater but wound up in healthcare instead of on stage. Now she pens romance. When she isn't writing, she's reading or running and ignoring the laundry. She lives in Seattle with her awesome long-suffering husband and two of the gassiest French Bulldogs on the planet.
Men of the Cloth - Tristan
No way in hell is he an ordained Catholic priest.
Yeah, I know what you’re thinking… Biker, cage fighter, Russian mafia hitman, maybe. Man of God, not so much. Because of the tat-sleeves or six-pack? Pierced nipple, perhaps. Is it the sun-streaked blonde hair and granite-hewn features making you doubt? It’s okay, I get it. Priests don’t typically come packaged in six-foot-two frames of shredded muscle. They don’t have panty-melting smiles or bedroom eyes the color of an ocean squall. They don’t make you think fallen angel.
No ma’am, I’m not anyone’s idea of a cleric, lookswise or otherwise. I think about sex a little too much. I’m not always good about following the rules. I drop F-bombs. I have a temper. And yeah, have shamefully broken a few vows. Would it also surprise you then to learn that despite all of the above I truly love God and the Church? That I received my calling when I was just nine? That I’d planned my life for the priesthood yet almost gave it all up for a woman?
Now just so we’re clear… This isn’t going to be some sappy romantic rendering of forbidden love à la The Thorn Birds. Sorry to disappoint. As for those expecting a smutty one-handed read about a hot holy father sporting junk as huge as his ego, apologies again. My name is Tristan, aka Father Cleary, and whatever else you may think this story is about… I respectfully suggest you think again.
*Advisory for strong language and sexual content.
Please note that Father is the first of the stand-alone series, Men of the Cloth. Visit website for more info.