J.D. Holt wasn’t at all what he seemed when he tackled Sister Mary Francis in the vegetable garden of her ramshackle convent near Deadwood in the Dakota Territories. But he needed a safe place to hide and recover and a convent seemed better than most.
Especially if all of the other sisters looked like this one.
Sister Mary Francis was sure he was an outlaw, a claim jumper or both, especially since he seemed to be all too ready to use that business end of that knife to get what he wanted, and the flat of his hand on her bottom if that was quicker. And when things blossomed between them, despite her reservations and his secretiveness, his wasn’t the only blood that was going to be spilled.