The Prick Next Door by Rose Queen

Community service with a strict religious sect?
F**k off.

My lawyer tells me I don’t get a choice. It’s either Hello backwater can, or a You’re-my-bit*h prison cell.
I might be a prick and a delinquent, but I ain’t stupid.
At least I get my own place next door to the Chaste’s farmhouse. The family I’m forced to work out my punishment with. Yeah, they’re called the Chastes. Hell, suits the stuck-up Preacher’s daughter.
Whatever. I’m tough. A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. Then I’ll get the hell outta dodge.
A couple of hours later, and I’m in total primitive hell. WTF are oil lamps? Has this Unity Church not heard of plumbing? The cabin has a water pump outside for drinking and washing. The wood stove has a top surface to heat a kettle, but I don’t want tea. I want a f**king beer. Flies are buzzing and snapping everywhere like turd groupies. I’ve got hay splinters in places they should never be. And what I don’t need is for some suspender-wearing buzz-kill like the Chastes to tell me how to live a moral life, while I’m mucking up crap balls larger than my fist.

But my boy downstairs is screaming to stay put. Why? Because of one goddamn thing. One tiny innocent thing called Annabelle Chaste. She’s a sin waiting to happen. Sin of all sins. She’s sweet. Virginal. A strict-Catholic Unity girl. She’s the reason a man burns for eternity. Why a man questions the way he lives his life. Love? Never believed in it — until her. She’s forbidden. Hell, she wouldn’t know what to do with my sin. But I’m dead-set in getting her to knock on my door for some sweet sugar. In my cabin. In my bed. The one next door to her farmhouse. And I’ll show her just how sweet it is to fall from grace.
Yeah.
I’m The Prick Next Door.