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  A Bad Habit

  Taking The Leap, Book 5

  M.K. Moore

  Flirty Filth Publishing

  A Bad Habit (Taking The Leap Book 5) By M.K. Moore

  © M.K. Moore 2020 Flirty Filth Publishing.

  All Rights Reserved

  By the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for brief quotations used in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  The use of actors, artists, movies, TV shows and song titles/lyrics throughout this book are done so for storytelling purposes and should in no way be seen as an advertisement. Trademark names are used editorially with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.

  This book is intended for adults only. Contains sexual content and language that may offend some. The suggested reading audience is 18 years or older. I consider this book as Erotic Adult Romance.

  Cover created by KL Fast

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Blurb

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Epilogue

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Other books by MK Moore

  About the Author

  Dedicated to those who’ve loved someone they shouldn’t. Love never fails.

  Blurb

  What bad habits do you have?

  Mary Elizabeth is a novice nun on a new assignment. She didn't expect the distraction in the form of a rouge priest, but there he is.

  Father Jacob O'Riley thought he could handle working in close proximity with her. How wrong he was.

  Forbidden and wrong as it may be, love never fails.

  This is what happens when you give up everything you ever believed in for love.

  This is Book 5 in the Taking The Leap series.

  Chapter One

  Sister Mary Beth

  As a novitiate, a novice nun, I have made my “simple” vows, to which I am religiously, and spirituality tied to for a certain amount of time. So, for the next three to five years, I will find my place in the Catholic Church. I'll try many things in order to determine if I want to be cloistered or not. I was given the name Jacqueline when I was born, but when I was confirmed in the Catholic Church in tenth grade, I chose Elizabeth as my patron saint. Now, I'm Sister Mary Elizabeth, but most everyone calls me Beth. I look at myself in the ancient mirror in the bathroom that I share with forty other nuns, all of them older than me. I adjust my wimple, making sure my hair isn't seen. While not a requirement, I love not having to worry about it. It’s unruly at best, a complete mess at worst. Wearing the habit makes everything easier for me, but it doesn’t come without drawbacks. Grabbing my rosary off the hook by the sink, my outfit is complete with sensible shoes. Smiling, I turn and leave the dormitory-style bathroom and grab my suitcase. I only packed a few habits, some jeans, and sweatshirts along with a pair of sneakers in there. Our order is a dress for comfort kind, as long as it isn’t too showy, it’s fine. Since I don't know what exactly I'll be doing in my next venture, I like being prepared.

  This is the best order for me since I don't always have to wear a habit. I am barely twenty and serving the Lord is my calling, I think.

  I was placed in a Catholic orphanage twenty minutes outside of Allentown, Pennsylvania when I was just three years old. I was later told my parents died in a car crash, leaving me all alone in the world. I was in the car too. The only survivor of the six-car pile-up one snowy night. That’s why I have faint but very noticeable scars all over the lower half of my body. I was trapped in my car seat for hours before rescue workers even realized I was there. I know that I survived for a reason and I believe that this is it. When the time came, I chose to go to public school over the parochial school at the orphanage, so I at least have some knowledge of the outside world, but this convent is home. The only home I can remember. I don’t remember my parents, nor do I have a picture of them. This is the only life I’ve ever known, so is it any wonder why I don’t want to leave? Why I feel safe here? But that feeling can’t last forever, I know that. For the first time, I am making my way out in the world while bettering the Church.

  One of the last things I have to do before they will let me take my final vows is to assist a new parish priest in setting up a brand-new church in Wisconsin. Mother Superior says that this is just one more test in a long line of tests to determine where my place is. I will be his secretary until he no longer has need of me then I will go back to Pennsylvania and move on to the next test. It should be easy; I think as I board the plane that will take me to Waukesha. It’s just southeast of Milwaukee. Never having been this far west, I am excited about doing some work other than charity or cooking and cleaning for the other nuns. I file that thought away because that reason alone makes me question everything, I ever thought I wanted in life.

  On the plane, I run my fingers over the smooth beads of my Five Decade Rosary as I pray. I pray for the safety of this plane and all on board as well as the strength and guidance needed in order to be of service to Father O’Riley. Once I am finished, the woman seated next to me grabs my hand and we say the Lord’s Prayer quietly together. This isn’t the first time something like this happened due to the way I am dressed, and I am sure that it won’t be the last. The woman, Denise, and I chat about her children during the flight. I push down the pang of sadness I feel at the thought of never having children. There are still things I am coming to terms with about being a nun that I’d never admit out loud. Children are one such thing.

  Arriving in Milwaukee, a lot of people stare at me. It’s one of the drawbacks. I choose to ignore them because I am not a public spectacle, but I know my habit raises a lot of eyebrows as I head from the plane to the passenger loading area outside. As a Benedictine nun, my habit is pretty traditional and basic. I shiver as I stand on the curb. It's cold and I didn’t think to bring a coat for some reason, though it was cold at home. I am going to have to fix that immediately. It's a different kind of cold here. Blistery and wet, I freeze as I wait for my ride. Father O’Riley is known as the bad boy priest, in that he does things a little differently than that of most priests. He’s also rumored to be incredibly handsome, but that means nothing to me. Men don’t turn my head. I don’t know about this bad boy-ness yet, but what I do know is that he is late. The longer I stand out here, the more upset I get. Just because I have dedicated my life to the Lord, doesn’t mean I don’t get pissed.

  Over an hour and a half later, it begins to snow and still, there is no sign of him. He better have a good reason for forgetting about me, I think as I hail a taxi. After giving the driver the address of the church, I settle into the warmth of the cab as we begin the twenty-five-minute drive to Waukesha from the airport all the while I am getting madder and madder.

  Rogue priest or not, I am going to give Father O’Riley a piece of my mind as soon as I see him.

  Chapter Two

  Father Jacob O'Riley

  I have been a priest for two years now, but this is the first time I have been really in charge of anything. I have a bit of a reputation as being an above
the law priest. A rouge who does things his own way and it has worked for me. The opening of a church in Waukesha, Wisconsin was never high on my list of priorities, but I go where I am needed, and this parish had no church. Now that the church, Saint Francis of Paola, is built, I am ready to begin services, starting this Sunday at eleven. Currently, I am walking the pews dropping Bibles and hymnals into the pockets on the backs of the seats in front of them. I have hired all of my supporting staff, who start tomorrow and am awaiting my secretary being sent from a convent in Pennsylvania.

  Looking at my watch, I see I still have a little over an hour before I need to retrieve the woman from the airport just as the sanctuary doors burst open. A slip of a girl dressed as a nun walks in carrying a small suitcase. Not for one second do I think this is the old woman who is supposed to be my secretary. At least, I assumed she’d be an old woman. She’s entirely too beautiful to be a nun and looks absolutely nothing like the nuns who used to rap my knuckles with a ruler. If they did, I might have paid more attention in class.

  “Darling, Halloween isn’t for at least eight more months,” I say without thinking.

  “Excuse me? Halloween?” she seethes.

  “Are you not dressed up as a nun as though this is Halloween?” I ask, getting bored with this, I have too much work to do deal with this.

  “There must be some kind of mistake…” she starts.

  “Are you here for confession then? That is Saturday at four, but I could make an exception,” I tell the girl. I wonder if she works at the gentleman’s club down the street and this is some kind of confession emergency or something.

  “I am Sister Mary Elizabeth. I am here to work. Am I in the right place?” she asks. Suddenly, realization dawns on me that this really is my secretary. Her beautiful face looks haunted right now.

  “Goodness. I am Father Jacob.”

  “You were supposed to pick me up,” she says accusingly.

  “You weren’t supposed to be here for another hour,” I tell her. Why can’t I stop staring at her? I grew up in the worst parts of Belfast, went to Catholic primary school and a public university before I joined the seminary and ultimately the Church, which is what led me here to the States. I have been around women before. I don’t know why this one woman, one completely covered from head to toe, is intriguing me so much, but she is, and I don’t know what to think about that. I shouldn’t have immediate thoughts of fornicating with her on the altar, but I do. To do so would be forbidden, wrong, taboo. Those words should deter me, but it, in fact, makes me want it more.

  “My flight didn’t change, Father. You left me out there in the cold, alone, in a strange city. Now, if you please, where do I put my things? I am freezing,” she says, making me take notice that she just has her habit on and that she is shivering.

  “Where’s your coat, lass? It’s negative ten degrees outside,” I say making the mistake of walking over to her and rubbing her arms. I tell myself that it’s just for warmth, but the second my fingers touch her slight frame I know that I am fucked. Beyond fucked.

  “I forgot to grab it, Father.”

  “You’ve got no sense, do you?”

  “My name is Beth or Sister. I am not a little girl, so please don’t talk to me like that,” she says indignantly.

  “Alright, Beth. You win,” I say holding my arms up in defeat, chuckling.

  “So, my room?” she asks again, getting impatient.

  “It’s in the rectory,” I tell her.

  “W-with you,” she asks hesitantly letting me know that she is just as affected by me as I am by her. If only it were that easy.

  “Not exactly. You will have your own space, Beth.”

  “Oh, good,” she says looking anywhere but at me. “The sanctuary is lovely.”

  “It is. I can feel the Lord’s presence here. I am anxious to get started.”

  “I bet. A new flock always needs the most attending,” she says sagely. I nod along in agreement, but a stray thought pops into my head and I've never been one who bites their tongue.

  “How old are you?” I blurt out.

  “They didn’t tell you?” she asks, raising her ridiculously perfect eyebrow at me. Why is it so perfect? It should be unruly. Are old ladies really the only nuns I've ever seen? Thinking back, I realize that they are.

  “The only thing they told me was that you are from Pennsylvania,” I reply honestly. They didn’t even send me her name.

  “I just turned twenty,” she answers, adjusting her wimple. My fingers itch to pull it off to see what her hair looks like. She’s so young. I am only thirty, but I have been ordained. I look at her left hand and see that it is ringless. She has not yet taken her final vows. For the first time in my life, I want a woman and that won’t do.

  I show her to the rectory. “The bedrooms are upstairs,” I tell her as we pass the stairs that lead up. We pass through the kitchen on the way to the offices. I start the coffee pot in order to warm her up quickly.

  “Will I be cooking for you?” she asks looking around the small but functional kitchen.

  “I hadn’t thought about that. I have been eating in restaurants since I arrived.” She looks surprised by that.

  “That’s terrible. I will cook for you. Three healthy meals a day,” she says smiling at me for the first time.

  “That would be great. Thank you, Beth.”

  “No thanks are necessary, Father. I helped out with the kitchen at the convent.”

  “If you are sure it’s no trouble,” I hedge.

  “None at all, Father,” she whispers. “It’ll be a pleasure to serve you.” I clear my throat and adjust my suddenly tight collar.

  This is going to be a disaster. There’s no way it isn’t going to be.

  Chapter Three

  Beth

  Oh, no. Oh no. Why God? Why? He is hot. Like so so so hot. My time in public school wasn’t wasted. I know a hot guy when I see him. I never did more than go to a movie with a boy back then. My body is betraying me because I want more with him and that just cannot happen. It can never happen. It’s forbidden. Shoot, that makes it sound even better. I don't know what I expected with Father O’Riley, but an Irish accent and a bad attitude were not it.

  As soon as I close myself in my room, I lean against the door and take several deep calming breaths. It doesn't help. Not at all. My face feels like it is on fire. How am I going to be around him without making a fool of myself? The answer is, I won't be able to. It's inevitable. I will do something entirely stupid in front of him and then this… infatuation will end. Why does the thought of that make me so sad? This thing deep inside of me can never be realized, so why do I want it to be?

  Shaking my head, I open my suitcase, pull my apron out, and put it on. Then I begin to unpack. Once my space is settled, I realize that I have to seek him out again. I need the keys to a vehicle to get to the closest grocery store. Shoring myself up to see him again, I leave my room to look for him. For a brand-new church, it has a lot of touches that make it seem older than it is. Religious relics are scattered throughout. I find myself drawn to a large cross near the sanctuary, which is where I find him.

  He is helping two older ladies polish the pews. It’s hot in here and smells amazing. Like lemons, hearth, and fire. The heat is on full blast and the enclosed space isn’t allowing any of it to escape. This time, however, his jacket is gone, and his shirtsleeves are rolled up revealing Celtic tattoos on both forearms. I find myself wanting to see how far up his arms they actually go. Shaking my head, I move closer to him. His forehead is damp with sweat. My eyes follow a single drop as it trickles all the way down his face. I lick my lips and forget how to speak. The thoughts in my head are filthy and depraved. I remind myself that I’ll need to take confession from this man. I shouldn’t do things that I can’t tell him about. How else would I get absolved of the things I am thinking about? Fornicating on these shiny new pews is not something I can tell him, the object of my obsession, about. Get a grip, I mentally cha
stise myself.

  This can never be.

  This can never be.

  This can never be.

  Internally chanting this mantra doesn’t seem to be helping but I need it to work.

  “Did you need something, Beth?” he asks after who knows how long I stand there staring at him.

  “Mmm. Yes. I need the keys to the car and some money. I need to go grocery shopping.”

  “Of course. Of course,” he says, taking a card out of his wallet handing it to me along with a set of keys. “There is a Black Ford Escape outside for your use. You do have a driver’s license, don’t you?”

  “Of course, I do. I’d never be so reckless.”

  “Very well. Drive safely,” he says, winking at me. WINKING at me. I don’t understand what is happening here nor do I understand why I am drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

  “What is my limit?” I ask.

  “Limit?”

  “To spend?”

  “Oh, get whatever you want. No limit,” he says, and I balk.

  “Father, that is wasteful.”

  “We literally have nothing, Beth. Get whatever you think we need to survive for a while,” he tells me before turning his back to me. I watch as his fist clenches at his side. He turns again to look at me. “Take my coat from the rack in the rectory,”