Sacred Salvation

 

 

Father Sebastian has found a home in St. Augusta College.

But when that home is threatened by a student, questions arise in his own beliefs.

Sacred Salvation

Part of Sins of the Sacred

by Casia Pickering

Genre: Dark Priest Romance

St. Augusta College is known for weaving the Arts with Theology. Within its iron gates lies a prestigious education that can drive a person mad.

Father Sebastian Hardwicke is new to the position. Not once has his religious fervor been tested until he is sent to the cathedral on St. Augusta's campus. The school is not what he expected. Hymns and prayers echo within the cathedral, and the faculty are pious and helpful. Even the students held a reverence he had only experienced in seminary. On the outside, it is perfect.

But a mask is still a mask, no matter how enticing.

Emilia Trent has two goals in life: to convey true emotion into her art and to quiet the voices. But the voices have gotten louder, screaming and demanding that she keep painting. There is no freedom in her expression. With the new priest coming to campus, her urges grow to a point where she no longer knows who she is. There is an almost paranormal force growing inside her.

There is only one person capable of holding the demon at bay- Father Sebastian Hardwicke. But will he choose to face the evil head-on or fall into the deep embrace of temptation?

Part of Sins of the Sacred, a dark priest romance shared world series featuring eleven amazing authors.

 

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“I don't think there is a demon inside you,” Sebastian sighed, “that wasn't my intention-”

 

“My father died when I was starting high school,” Emilia said. "He used to drive freight trucks at night. During one night, a nasty storm happened, and, well, it crashed. He was in the hospital for weeks until we couldn't keep him on life support.”

 

“I'm so sorry,” Sebastian said. He looked off into the distance, as if heweres lost in his own thoughts.

 

Emilia shrugged. “I've had depression ever since. My painting helps with it and so did a therapist when I had one, but it isn't because of my depression that I struggle.”

 

“What is?” Sebastian asked.

 

Emilia thought quietly. She glanced at Sebastian. Without the white collar pinned into his polo shirt, he'd look like any other well-dressed man. It was that and the type of shirt that seemed out of place with his jeans and glasses that he was constantly pushing back up the bridge of his nose. She wondered what made him choose the life he chose.

 

Was he a believer, or was it pushed onto him by people around him? She remembered an argument she had with her mother about maybe joining the military to help pay for college. That was before the art contest and scholarship that got her into St. Augusta. As much as she stressed about being at the school, she wouldn't change her choices if she had the chance. But her knowledge about Father Arthur, Sister Rebecca, and Miranda would be for Sebastian. It may not be her responsibility, but it was something Emilia didn't want on her conscience.

 

“I'd rather not talk about it,” she finally decided, shaking her head, “no offense, but I doubt you'd take my life experiences into consideration if I told you.”

 

“What do you mean?” Sebastian's eyes furrowed in confusion.

 

“Imagine being abused or having a bad relationship with a friend or something,” Emilia said, “can you do that?”

 

Sebastian’s expression went still. It was as if he were seeing something from his past. A pang of guilt hit Emilia’s chest. If she had known he might’ve experienced something like what she was suggesting, she might not have said that.

 

“Okay,” Sebastian whispered, “go on.”

 

Emilia nodded. “Let’s say you told someone about that experience, but that person you told didn’t believe you because the person who abused you or the friend who was awful hasn’t shown that side of themselves to that person. Can you imagine how that feels?”

 

“I can.” Sebastian’s voice was raspy and hard. He worked his jaw and rolled his head from side to side.

 

A squirrel jumped from headstone to headstone as birds twittered. His cheeks were bulging from the collection of nuts. The leaves rustled as another autumn breeze brushed past. Emilia looked around at the quiet beauty of it all.

 

Even the voices weren’t around. Emilia looked around, this time paying attention to every small detail. There was no fog or shadows. The only brightness that held her attention, aside from the slowly dying sun, was Sebastian. It was as if the cemetery was an oasis away from whatever plagued the campus. 

 

“That’s why I’m not ready to say anything,” Emilia said. "I don’t know if you’d believe me or not, but it’s not worth saying if we end up arguing.”

 

About the Sins of the Sacred series

The Sins of the Sacred dark romance shared world series brings together standalone stories by multiple authors, each exploring the collision of faith and forbidden desire within religious settings. From medieval abbeys and dissolution-era monasteries to modern churches and theological colleges, priests, nuns, exorcists, and other religious figures face temptations that challenge their sacred vows. The series spans various time periods, incorporating paranormal elements including demon possession, angelic intervention, and exorcism that intensify conflicts between duty and desire.

With diverse pairings including M/F, MM, F/F/F, and MFM configurations, each book delivers explicit romantic content while exploring themes of religious trauma, repression, and the struggle between devotion and forbidden longing. The series features omegaverse dynamics, second chance romance, and enemies-to-lovers tropes alongside darker explorations of possession, crisis of faith, and the psychological impact of religious structures. Designed for readers seeking taboo romance that examines the tension between sacred vows and human desire in emotionally complex narratives.

 

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Even though she claims she can write anything, the biography remains to be Casia’s arch-nemesis. Despite this, Casia has used her Writing degree to craft stories in over ten anthologies, maintained a book blog for more than a decade, and has begun to write novels. A multi-genre author, Casia Pickering, is incapable of keeping to one thing. Every story has a piece of her personality that she treasures and shares with her readers. She currently lives in the Hampton Roads area of Virginia with her biggest supporter and helper, her son, affectionately known as Bug. Previous works are under the name, Casia Courtier.

 

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The Purebeck Mysteries

 

 

The Dorset coast holds its secrets tight—

and the dead won’t stay quiet.

Vex Not Her Ghost

The Purebeck Mysteries Book 1

by Gill Calvin Thomas

Genre: Paranormal Mystery

A quirky detective tackles a haunting family mystery.

 

Caitlin was four years old when her mother died in mysterious circumstances. Thirty years later she comes into possession of her family home in Dorset. As she slowly recovers memories of her past, she becomes convinced that her mother’s ghost is warning her of impending disaster.

Aided by Charlie Bond, a private investigator, an enthralling story of deceit and deception unfolds as Caitlin and her friends expose the ultimate truth.

 

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Sister Olive Wouldn't Hurt a Fly 

The Purebeck Mysteries Book 2

Fleeing to Dorset traps a mother and son between a cult and a killer waiting in the shadows…

 

If this whole saga was a fight between good and evil, then who had won? As far as Miriam could work out, neither good nor evil had triumphed yet. Now she was having to confront the grim consequences of Will’s behaviour, and she was mortally afraid. Maybe he and his darkness would win after all.

The tragic suicide of a young student starts a shocking chain of events for William Marshall, his wife Miriam and their son, Ollie. As Will descends into madness, a ghostly presence appears in their old house to protect Ollie. However, when two strangers threaten Miriam and an attempt is made to snatch Ollie, mother and son are forced to flee.

Amidst ever-present danger, they shake off pursuers to seek sanctuary in Rock House in Dorset, where they meet Caitlin and her friends. Twenty years have passed since Charlie Bond helped Caitlin solve the mystery of her mother’s death. Now, it is the turn of Charlie’s sidekick, Sam Haskell, to investigate a mysterious cult and unmask a killer.

 

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Gill Calvin Thomas is a retired academic who lives with her husband in Swanage , UK.  She finds inspiration in the landscape around her – the Isle of Purbeck has a spectacular coastline and beautiful beaches, and it is whilst walking here, that Gill develops characters and plots the twists and turns you will find in her books.

 Gill’s life experiences have informed her writing.  For example, her mother’s death when she was a small child, influenced her first book, Vex Not Her Ghost, where the heroine has to delve into the past to uncover the real circumstances of her mother’s death, the cover up and the ongoing corruption.  Her experiences as a social work academic governs the plot of her second book, Sister Olive Wouldn’t Hurt a Fly.  In this book the fatal combination of a researcher's mental collapse and a sociopathic opportunist give rise to a cliffhanging finale.

 Reviewers have said that Gill writes the sort of books in which you find yourself racing to the end, whilst not wanting to finish.  Her characters are compelling, well-drawn and sensitively portrayed.  In her books bad people get what they deserve, but it is never quite what it seems.

 She is currently writing her third book. 

 

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Dragons of Mu

 Excerpt Pamela Ackerson’s

Dragons of Mu

 

She rubbed the back of her head, felt a small lump, and winced. Her head was throbbing. Her knee was yelling at her and now she heard angry, men’s voices.

One of them yelled, “Over there! There she is. Get her!”

Another pulled out a long knife and they ran toward her.

Amy rushed into the woods. Turning around, she could see they were catching up to her.

Up, Amy, up. They won’t be looking up.

She climbed an oak tree as high as she could. Pulling on the long skirt, she squatted on a branch.

The branch felt odd and slithered underneath her. A large, looming face in the shape of a dragon stared at her unblinking.

Holy cr—

The creature put a long claw to its mouth and said, “Shhh.”

Amy took a deep breath. A scream was building inside her but before she could release the ear-piercing screech, she was muzzled by the creature. Her heart jolted as its wing enveloped her and she lost consciousness.

A few moments later, she was gulping for air. Fully expecting to open her eyes and see the hotel lobby, she was stunned to be staring into the eyes of a dragon.

–A dragon, a huge dragon with big, green eyes.

You’re safe.

Amy shook her head. “No. No, I’m not. There’s no okay in this, whatever this is at all. This is crazy. Why is this happening?”

Where did you come from?

She stared at his mouth. It wasn’t moving.

This hallucination was freaking weird. A talking dragon that didn’t move his lips. They’re going to take her away and leave her in the psych ward for the rest of her life.

Her eye began twitching. It wasn’t real. None of it makes sense.

Think, Amy. Dragons aren’t real. How could a dragon talk?

Anything can happen in a hallucination. She repeated to herself. This isn’t real.

Was she dead? Is this purgatory? Her own personal nightmare of an afterlife? Could she have injured herself so badly that she died?

She wasn’t a bad person. It certainly wasn’t in Hades. Well, it better not be Hades.

A talking, psychic dragon communicating with his mind.

Of course, it makes soooo much more sense.

She watched as the men ran into the woods, searching for her.

The dragon spoke in a deep, soothing voice, “Why are you dressed in that garb?”

Amy stared at the huge beast.

The beast’s green eyes penetrated her with a questioning glare.

“A— a party. We were going to a party.”

He looked at the bracelet.

“Someone put them in my shopping bag.”

“Let’s go. We need to get you into normal clothing. I’ll take you to Bev’s.”

Amy started climbing down the tree.

“No, no.” The dragon grabbed her and placed Amy on his back before taking flight.

Amy squealed, inhaled and released another louder scream.

“Stop.” His body jolted. “Your obnoxious squawking is impaling my ears.”

Within a few moments, they soared through the air and flew from cloud to cloud.

Her stomach flipped and she swallowed the huge lump in her throat.

“Ugh, no ups and downs, please.”

He laughed. “No quick drops? You’re the slow-boat kind of person.”

Her heart was finally returning to its normal beat. She was getting comfortable riding on his back and was beginning to enjoy the view.

“Whoa! This is awesome. I never have flying dreams.”

The dragon huffed.

Amy was mesmerized. It was freaking fantastic. The warm heat from the sun and soft air on her face, the flapping of his wings, it was glorious.

She could do this. It was peaceful. He was gliding along and she was euphoric.

Hold on.

“Hold on? No, don’t ruin the moment!”

The dragon took a deep dive. Amy let out an earsplitting shriek and gripped the back of his neck tighter as he gracefully landed on the ground in front of a small, wooden cabin.

He grunted in pain.

“Your fingernails are cutting into my skin.”

“Sorry.” Amy dismounted him like she would a horse.

“You don’t look like you’re sorry.”

She gave him an angry side-eye.

He grumbled, “Go. Tell her I sent you.”

“Um. You want me to knock on a stranger’s door, in the middle of BFE, and tell her a dragon sent me?”

 “We’re not in Egypt.”

She snapped, “What? We’re in the middle of freaking nowhere. That’s what BFE means!”

Ignoring her irritation, he responded, “We’re in Ireland.”

 “Ireland? I’ve never been to Ireland. How am I dreaming that I’m here? I’ve only seen pictures and this in not anything like the pictures.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not fine. I don’t have a passport with me!”

She rubbed her forehead. Why would she need a passport in a dream?

“No worries.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “I’ll be back in a blink. In the meantime, tell her Blaze sent you.”

“Oh, look. A fairy circle.”

His wide-eyed, incredulous stare gave her pause. He shook his head. “Wow.”

She shrugged.

“I can’t keep up with you.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot. My mind goes really fast sometimes.” She limped toward the fairy circle.

“What are you doing?”

Amy chuckled. “Making a wish.”

He looked at her like she was growing horns.

“Um, yeah. Make a wish and the fairies will grant it only if they see fit. You have to watch out for all the fairies protecting the fairy circle. You don’t want to step on them, you know.”

Amy stepped back from the circle. “Hello, little fairies. I hope you’re having a pleasant day.”

He harrumphed and walked away.

“Hey, it’s my dream. I can do what I want.”

Amy raised her hand to knock, but never made contact. An elderly woman, in her mid-seventies, opened the door.

“Oh, I thought I heard Blaze’s voice.”

“I’m Amy. He told me to tell you—”

The woman opened the door wider. “Come in. The sun’s going to be setting soon and it’ll be a bit chilly.”

The elderly woman had light hair, dark blue eyes, and a wide, pleasant smile. Her hair was rolled up into a bun tucked on the back of her head. Amy’s memories immediately went to the cartoon with the grandma lady who owned the canary, Tweety.

Amy cautiously entered the house and as she turned to look about, a man rushed through the doorway.

He was an average-looking man except for his eyes. They gleamed an effervescent green. The man’s dark hair was a deep contrast to his light skin.

She never cared for the five o’clock shadow but it did do him justice.

“There you are, Blaze.” She handed him a mug.

“Thank you, Bev.”

“Mark on his way?”

“Soon. He has a few things he needs to take care of before he comes.”

Mark? As in Harlow?

Bev turned to Amy. “What would you like, dear? I’ve got some hot tea on the table or, if it pleases, I can pour another draught.”

“T—”

“She needs normal clothes.”

Amy glared at Blaze. “And who are you?”

“I’m the man who saved your skinny bum and brought you here.”

“And how, pray tell, did you do that? A dragon…” Her voice trailed off.

Bev looked puzzled. “So, she’s not from medieval times?”

“No.”

“She didn’t time-travel here?”

“No.”

Time travel? Amy interrupted, “I can speak for myself.”

“Really?” He snorted. “Go ahead, darling, and explain how you got here.”

“Fine. I was at a party.” Amy flipped her hand in the air. “I tucked the jeweled comb in my wig and the next thing I knew, these men attacked me and I’ve been having this dream or possibly been unconscious ever since.”

Blaze sat at the table. “You’re not unconscious.”

“Then you tell me what’s happening.”

Bev took her arm. “Oh, sweetie, it’s been a day for you, hasn’t it? Sit, relax, and have a cuppa. I’ll get you some clothes that should fit you. We’ll get you all sorted out.”

The concern in Bev’s voice was telling.

Wariness clung to Amy as a hesitant smile tugged at her lips, a stark contrast to how she was feeling.

“I don’t need clothes. I just want to wake up.”

Bev asked, “Wake up?”

Blaze waved Bev’s question off and spoke to Amy, “Somehow, you’ve managed to get two very powerful and magical relics to bring you here. People have gone to war to possess the magical comb and bracelet.”

Amy grunted.

“Those men stole the relics to take over Mu and conquer the magical world. They will not hesitate to kill you for them.”

Amy bit her upper lip, repressing a nervous giggle. “Not ruby-red slippers? Will lightning flash from the jewelry when you try to remove it from my hair and wrist? Do I repeat ‘there’s no place like home’ three times?”

Blaze glowered. “I don’t find your sarcasm amusing.”

She removed the jeweled comb and handed it to Blaze. “Here. Take it.”

Bev glared at Blaze and tapped Amy’s hand. “Blaze can get you back to where you belong and to your party whenever you’re ready.”

“Good.” Amy put her wrist toward Blaze. “I’m more than ready.”

Blaze reached to take the bracelet off her wrist. “It won’t come off.”

Bev put her hand to her chest. “What?”

Amy’s voice shook in panic. “No, no, take it off!”

“It won’t come off.”

“Fine, then I’ll do it.”

She fiddled with the clasp and finally threw up her hands in frustration. “It won’t come off!”

Bev walked over to the cabinet and brought back a bottle of Irish whiskey and three glasses, and said, “It has begun.”

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Love on the Line

 

Andrea takes a job building a pipeline through the mountains of West Virginia. 

Cold, mud, family drama, and an all-male crew, are only a few of the problems she encounters.

Love On the Line 1

Women At Work Series Book 1

by Kirsten Fullmer

Genre: Women’s Fiction, Coming of Age, Small Town Romance

Her dad always said A little dirt never hurt anybody. He was wrong.

Andrea’s excitement about her first job engineering a pipeline through the mountains of West Virginia turns to disaster when she faces grueling work, harsh weather, and crushing homesickness. If she can’t pull herself together and keep up, she’ll be sent home.

When she dropped out of grad school to work on the line with Grandpa Buck, her parents were disappointed, widening a bitter family divide. If she goes home now, she’ll miss the opportunity to know Buck and lose his respect as well.

There's one worker, a foreman, who might offer comfort and support, but when Andrea finally trusts him, things get even more complicated.

Fans of In Five Years, Reminders of Him, and Regretting You, are devouring Kirsten Fullmer’s imaginative, gritty, coming-of-age romance.

One-Click Love on the Line to start the uniquely engaging journey today!

 

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 Nick and Rooster’s conversation lagged as they both paused to watch Andy and Buck approach. The afternoon had grown warm, the hottest so far, and the men waved at dust and bugs that crawled and bit, making them miserable.

            Buck stopped and bobbed a nod at the two foremen. “Men.”

            “Sir,” both mumbled in reply.

Buck grunted, then headed on past the men with Andy at his heels. As she hustled pass Rooster, her eyes met his and she couldn’t help but notice the intensity there.

She tripped over a rut and ran several steps ahead to regain her balance. Stopping to readjust the stake bag on her shoulder, she waved away a sweat bee. “Go ahead, Andy, trip and fall at his feet,” she muttered under her breath.

Two steps later she lurched to a halt and dropped the bag to clutch at her underarm where something, more than likely the sweat bee, stung her with a vengeance.

Shouting curses, she danced and twisted in a circle, yanking at her safety vest and shirt and grabbing at her sports bra in an attempt the stop the burning sting. Finally, she ripped one arm out of her shirt and vest. Shoving her fingers up under the tight sweaty bra, she scooped out the bee and jumped back as its body fell to the dirt.

She stomped on the bee and kinked her neck, trying to examine her armpit area, but then she remembered where she was. She froze with one hand still up the side of her bra. Her head came up, only to find every man on the right-of-way, numbering well over thirty, staring at her in amazement.

“Need a hand?” Nick called out with a grin.

“It was a bee—” she started, then with a snort of disgust, she yanked her hand from her bra. Hefting the heavy bag, she realized her shirt and safety vest were still bunched up around one side of her neck, leaving her arm and her stomach half exposed. Three more cuss words escaped as she dropped the bag and fumbled back into her clothing, with all eyes watching her every move.

The sting continued to burn as she grabbed the stake bag and stomped past Buck, with her cheeks red and hot.

“What was that all about?” the old man asked as she passed.

Ignoring him, Andy continued up the right-of-way.

***

            Rooster smoothed his fingers down his beard trying to hide a laugh as he watched Andy and Buck retreat. Nick hooted by his side, cackling with the other hands as they regaled Andy tearing off her shirt. Rooster’s hand dropped and he frowned, wondering how bad the sting was. He’d had a sweat bee trapped in his pants once, and it was a pain he still remembered.

Love on the Line 2

Women at Work Book 2

Andy could only stare, wide-eyed, at the keys in her hand. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think. Only foremen got a company truck.

Andy is pleased to work with Grandpa Buck again, even though the long hours limit her time with Rooster. But her contentment is cut short when a serious on-the-job accident tips the scale of leadership, throwing Rooster and Andy into conflict.

Rooster must prove he is unbiased toward Andy and her work, or lose his promotion. When her parents show up, Andy has to deal with Rooster, her mother’s interference, and her own insecurities to keep the job going. If she can’t cope she’ll lose her job, and worse yet, she’ll let down Buck.

If Andy and Rooster can’t find a way to work together and complete the pipeline, their relationship is over.

Fans of In Five Years, Reminders of Him, and Regretting You, are devouring Kirsten Fullmer’s imaginative, gritty, coming-of-age pipeline books.

One-Click Love on the Line 2 to continue Andy’s exceptional journey today!

 

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Rooster forked a pork chop onto his plate and dug in, cutting off a big bite. He popped it in his mouth and watched Andy as he chewed.

She tried not to squirm, but he could see her discomfort. One of his brows quirked up.

Andy dished a helping of salad onto her plate, careful not to look up at him.

He cut another bite off his chop. Silence filled the room, tense and palpable, like the room was too small. Reaching for his glass, he caught her sneaking a peak at him.

After several gulps of water, he settled his glass back on the table, took his fork in one hand and his knife in the other, and waited. She was only demure when she knew she was in the wrong.

When she realized he wasn’t eating, her eyes met his. “What’s wrong?” she asked innocently. “Is the pork okay?”

“Why do you want to go to some gas station on the only night we don’t have to go to sleep at eight o-clock? You usually want to…” He intentionally let the sentence drop and waggled his eyebrows to make her blush. She was so cute when she was timid.

“We won’t need to stay late,” she backpedaled, “I was talking to Nick about it and—”

“Oh, here we go,” he interrupted. “This is about Nick isn’t it?”

She put her fork on the table. “What’s your problem with Nick?”

He shook his head. “You told him you’d invite that new coating girl, didn’t you?” He wasn’t asking, it was a statement.

Andy’s chin came up. “She happens to be the coating foreman.”

“Whatever,” he snorted, and went back to cutting his meat.

Andy grinned wickedly. “She could demand that you all address her as foreperson, you know.”

Rooster snorted at her dilutional comment.

Andy pursed her lips, knowing full well that the pipeline was still in the 1950s when it came to women’s rights. But she adjusted her train of thought and continued. “Why do you think this has anything to do with me talking to Nick?”

His chewing stopped and he gave her an oh please, look.

She cleared her throat and looked away, poking a bite of salad onto her fork. “Okay, her name may have come up.”

Rooster took another long drink of water.

“Would it kill us to be social?” Andy retorted. “We never go anywhere but work.”

 “We work eighty hours a week!”

“That’s beside the point,” she huffed, sticking the forkful of salad in her mouth.

“Is it?”

She chewed and swallowed. “You just don’t want to bother,” she said with a flounce.

“This is overcooked,” he muttered, sawing away at his pork chop. It was dry and chewy, he’d done a poor job of it.

Dinner continued in silence with both parties casting glances at the other, but neither one spoke. When they finished eating, they stood and carried their dishes to the sink. Rooster ran hot, soapy water as Andy scraped their scraps into the trash and returned to the table for the rest of the dishes.

Silence reigned, leaving only the sound of plates clinking and water running as Rooster washed and rinsed the dishes, and Andy dried. When the dishes were washed, he drained the water and watched as Andy put the last plate in the specially designed drawer. When she turned back to him, he took up the end of her dishtowel, pulling her to him. His hands circled her waist. “If you’d like me to take you out Saturday night, just say so.”

Andy didn’t meet his eye.

But Rooster knew her well, and still very much enjoyed her attitudes. He tilted her head up with an index finger under her chin. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Losing all track of thought, Andy fell under his spell. Her pupils dilated and her lips parted. She didn’t need to say anything, he knew he had her.

Leaning down, he teased kisses along her jaw, causing a moan to slip from her lips. Her arms came up to circle his neck and his kisses wandered to her cheek, then her mouth.

Eagerly, she kissed him back, deepening both the kiss and his desire. He scooped her up and carried her toward the bedroom.

Andy leaned into his shoulder, filled with anticipation. She nibbled at his neck, ran her fingers through his hair, and a dreamy smile settled over her face.

He placed her on the bed, certain that somewhere in that woman’s brain of hers, she was already wondering what she’d wear on their Saturday night date to the gas station.  

Kirsten is a writer with a love of art and design. She worked in the engineering field, taught college, and consulted free lance. Due to health problems, she retired in 2012 to travel with her husband. They live and work full time in a 40' travel trailer with their little dog Bingo. Besides writing romance novels, she enjoys selling art on Etsy and spoiling their four grandchildren.

As a writer, Kirsten's goal is to create strong female characters who face challenging, painful, and sometimes comical situations. She believes that the best way to deal with struggle, is through friendship and women helping women. She knows good stories are based on interesting and relatable characters.

 

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