The Bishop's Daughter by Tiffany L. Warren Read Free Book Online Page A

talkin’ ’bout a Baptist, Pentecostal, Holiness, Church of God in Christ, AME, and Reformed-Baptist-Fire-Baptized-Holiness-Church-of-the-Lord-Our-King all in one neighborhood.
    So this whole mega-church thing is new to me. The carpeted sanctuary with padded stadium seats is ridiculous, and the shuttle bus from the parking lot (because it’s a ten-minute walk if you’re late) is all brand-spanking-new. When I walked in and saw television screens on every wall, I got ready to hear about how I could name and claim my victory, deliverance, healing, salvation, and financial blessings all by sowing a seed.
    BUT I DIDN’T HEAR IT!!!! That’s right. Bishop So-and-so (can’t give all the details yet) didn’t even have an offering. This dude has little slots in the lobby for people to place their freewill offering. And I’m gone say this real quietly. He actually preached about something real. I left feeling uplifted.
    Yeah.
    So I’m thinking this dude might be on the up-and-up when it comes to the money. BUT! And I should probably say BUTT.
    He’s got a daughter that is hella fine. Well, fine in that girl-next-door-your-mama-want-you-to-marry kind of way. Anyhoo, sweetie was feelin’ me. She couldn’t help herself.
    And y’all know … it ain’t nothin’ more scandalous than a PK (preacher’s kid, for the short-bus people).
    Still on a mission, yo. And by the way, tell somebody about my blog! Gotta get my hit count up so I can get that long advertiser dough. Y’all know how I do.
    Hit me up in the comments section!
    COMMENTS
    Jia 8:59 p.m.
    MBB, you dead wrong for lusting after the bishop’s daughter. All PKs are not the same! I should know. My daddy was a pastor, and I didn’t do anything to embarrass him. I kept my dirt on the low, you know what I’m sayin’?
    Tyrone 9:14 p.m.
    Yeah, that’s real talk, bro. Them pastors’ daughters be off the chizzain! Keep us posted.

Chapter Eight
    Darrin
    L et’s say that Dorcas’s little rejection has interested me enough that I’m eager to see her again. Eager enough, in fact, that I’m sitting at one of the front tables in Freedom of Life’s Bible study class. Plus, I want to meet Bishop Prentiss face-to-face, and I figure that it’ll happen in a more intimate setting.
    The first person I see is Emoni Prentiss. She’s wearing a long jean skirt and a sleeveless blouse and has her hair in curls. She’s smiling at me, and I feel myself shift in my seat as she walks over.
    “You’re here early,” she comments as she takes the seat next to me.
    I nod slowly. “Yep. I’m an early bird.”
    “Me, too.”
    Her perfume is nice. It has floral undertones and a hint of spice. Yeah, I know what a floral undertone is. It has an intoxicating effect, as do the singing silver bangles on her arm.
    I’m searching my brain for a word to describe Emoni. She’s attractive, though not pretty. Not in that traditional way that makes brothas like me swoon. But there is something … intriguing about her. Her deep eye contact makes our small talk feel like pillow talk.
    She smiles. “I’m glad you decided to visit again—”
    Before she finishes her sentence, Dorcas walks up to the table, grinning from ear to ear. She’s wearing sunglasses and a sundress, looking very young, very casual, and hot to death. I can’t help but grin right back at her. Emoni stands to leave, obviously unwilling to share our conversation with another female.
    I touch Emoni’s hand. “Don’t go. We’re not done talking.”
    I don’t know what made me do that. I
need
her to go, to keep it moving. Because even though I don’t mind us getting more personal, I don’t like to deal with too many women in the same location. That can get messy. Although I definitely plan to investigate Emoni territory, I’m gonna deal with Dorcas first. First come, first served.
    “Hey, Emoni,” says Dorcas in a tone that is friendly only on the surface.
    Emoni nods a hello and cringes a bit when Dorcas pulls a