My first eBook, “A Deer Story Out of the Woods,” was limited to 600 words maximum for a short story contest. It was a good experience of learning how self-publishing online works. And now, I’m starting my second eBook about a former CIA covert filed operative who becomes a priest, leaving his past behind him, or so he tries.

Little be known to him, Fr. Chris McDaniel, will need some of his former skills when he learns of an ultra-conservative sect of priests that will use any means to preserve their idea of Truth as threatened by modern day thinkers. Chris McDaniel’s past covert spy work saved many innocent lives, and now as Father Chris McDaniel, he is called to save lives again, but on a different playing field.

Below is a short except:

The rented U-Haul truck pulled into the church parking lot at around 11:00am on Friday morning and continued to the rectory entrance beside the small town parish of Saint Justin Catholic Church. Father Chris McDaniel instinctively surveyed the entrance and noticed the flimsy screen door partially ajar in front of the standard house door with only one lock belonging to that of the door knob. Immediately he knew that his first order of business would be a door upgrade to offer his new residence better security. Later he would assess other vulnerable entry points to remodel if he was to feel secure in his new home. Fr. Chris was not the paranoid type, but his prior experience as a field operative for many government agencies instilled in him a sense of situation awareness that his fellow priest peers would never understand.

A middle aged woman in her forties who could have passed for a bank receptionist walked out and greeted her new Pastor. “Father McDaniel?” “That’s me,” replied the priest, “just called me Fr. Chris.” “Ah, oh, ah, Ok, Father.” Mary, who had been the parish secretary for nearly twenty years was a little taken back at the new pastor’s informality. Saint Justin’s was a conservative parish that was led by the recently retired Monsignor Robert Smith for over forty years. No one ever saw Monsignor in anything other than his full clerical suit or cassock with red pipping, red monsignorial sash, and berreta. And here was his replacement, a 43 year old man in blue jeans and a tee shirt.

I’m developing the story as I write it. I’ll assign the title after I get further along. I am open to any suggestions for plots or characters. This is a work of fiction and has no connection to anyone or any place in particular.