Bec’s first book is available now on Kindle or in Print.
You can purchase it here: https://a.co/d/1nmI8ng
Here in an excerpt from her new book:
I worked at a chicken wing restaurant as a manager whilst in my third year of seminary. The college boys cooking in the kitchen used to flirt with me. At first it started as innuendos, and double entendre, and crude jesting. One night, I held my clipboard as I did weekly inventory. Counting chicken legs, counting chicken wings, counting frozen burger patties in the cooler, and I felt something brush against me as I bent over. I stood up, quickly. The young fry cook, smiled at me and winked. I told him to leave the cooler. He said, “you really don’t mean that.” I said, “Boy, you better get out of here.” He did. He tempted me, but I was his boss. I wanted to be ethical. And I am supposed to be representing Jesus out here in the world. Temptation lurked behind every corner. I felt like I lived inside of a fighting game, where the end of each level a huge boss came out to fight- and they were always men. One of the fry cooks kept flirting with me. Eventually, I met up with him in the middle of the night and told him to hop in my car. I drove to a beautiful park, sure that we would be alone. We made out in my car, and I convinced him to move to the back seat. I kept thinking that park security would drive up on the ford focus with steamed up windows and bumper stickers, and I’d be arrested for indecent exposure. Yet, my libido raged. He stopped kissing me for a minute and asked some question about God. I shrank into the seat, feeling guilty, with my bra almost undone, and then looked at him. I told him God loved him so much, no matter how grave he thought his sin was. And then we just sat there. We sat in silence in the thick, black night of the Ozarks. Until a blinding light shun through my windows as park security pulled up. I jumped from the backseat to the front seat, cranked the car, and started praying out loud the whole way down interstate in Springfield, Missouri. That poor fry cook heard me repenting loudly.
Bec Cranford 