STAY TUNED FOR MORE OF FATHER RYAN AND SISTER SURI!
About Murphy
Murphy Wallace is an International Bestselling Author with works in several different genres, but most of her work as been in Dark Romantic Suspense.
She currently resides in a small Eastern Florida town with her husband, who doubles as her best friend, and their two boys.
When she's not getting in touch with her inner child at Disney World, or enjoying everything that Florida has to offer with her family, she enjoys writing and watching true crime documentaries.
She has a cat named Maisy who is her constant writing partner.
Also by Murphy wallace
The Wildheart Duet
Stolen Love: mybook.to/WHDStolenLove
With Love:mybook.to/WHDWithLove
Bound in Sacrifice: https://amzn.to/2SU1azP
Impudence
Emery LeeAnn
Humility
An outward expression of an appropriate inner, or self regard.
Blurb
Father O’Rourke expects me to humble myself before him just like he “humbles” himself all over me and the rectory on a daily basis.
Father Clarence, well he is an altogether different sort of redeemer.
Blasphemy is all this church knows but, without it, what would Mother Superior do?
My vow of silence is almost at an end, and to all who have stained these walls with ungodly acts I warn: Watch out.
Absolution comes at a price and when I’m done paying my penance, the ones who hurt me in the silence will find out the true meaning of humility.
Prologue
The smellof Murphy’s Oil Soap permeates my senses as my prayers came to an end. Opening my eyes, looking up at the altar from my kneeling position, it always seems like I should be on my knees in an inch of dust and dirt, with maggots and worms crawling over our blessed Lady.
But then I get slammed in the senses with artificial lemon scent to let me know, I am back in this house of worship that boasts godliness. You can wax every inch of this so calledholy place,every minute of every day, but that won’t clean all the sins away.
Chapter 1
Sister Purity
Sister Mary Margaret,the Mother Superior of Our Lady of Heavenly Hope Convent looks at me with condemnation as she passes me in the darkened hallways.
I’m sure it’s because she can smell the scent of Father O’Rourke on me, like I have an option when he pushes me down in front of him. She nods me on with the thin line yielding the thin lips on her face, knowing there is no need to speak me. I’m nearing the end of my vow of silence. She will have to converse with me soon enough. I’m sure she is glad it is not right now.
They should all be glad. The whole lot of them. Between the Fathers who adore us on our knees, to the sinful ladies I live with that I call sisters.
I prefer to stay silent. Most of the others do not wish to go that route. I find I learn more when I am not speaking. People tend to forget I am here and will discuss everything around me.