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Snowbird — Stef Ann Holm
SHE WAS A LONER LIVING A MAN'S LIFE. NOW HE WANTED HER TO BE A WOMAN, HIS WOMAN.
When Ella Brown rode into the Idaho mining town, she had a dead outlaw slung over her pack mule. With her buckskin trousers, hat pulled low, and mannish ways, even the sheriff who handed her the reward money didn't know she was a lady. Later, in a hotel, she saw in the mirror what she really was -- a young woman with no one left to love or to love her. But that night John Snow broke into her room. His face was hard, his eyes were mocking, and his mood was black. He had come looking for a bounty hunter. Instead he came face-to-face with the woman who would be his destiny. Her beauty reminded him of a life long past, a time long gone, when he was not a gunslinger. Ella's instincts told her that John Snow's passion could set free the femininity she'd hidden so well-if she dared to ride beside a man bent on vengeance, whose soul only her love could save.
When Ella Brown rode into the Idaho mining town, she had a dead outlaw slung over her pack mule. With her buckskin trousers, hat pulled low, and mannish ways, even the sheriff who handed her the reward money didn't know she was a lady. Later, in a hotel, she saw in the mirror what she really was -- a young woman with no one left to love or to love her. But that night John Snow broke into her room. His face was hard, his eyes were mocking, and his mood was black. He had come looking for a bounty hunter. Instead he came face-to-face with the woman who would be his destiny. Her beauty reminded him of a life long past, a time long gone, when he was not a gunslinger. Ella's instincts told her that John Snow's passion could set free the femininity she'd hidden so well-if she dared to ride beside a man bent on vengeance, whose soul only her love could save.
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