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“Maybe you should think about going back to Boston,” Hunter said.
“This is my home.” Meredith fought to keep her voice steady. “And my father deserves to rest easy in his grave, knowing his name has been cleared of any wrongdoing.”
His expression tightened. “Then you’re determined to stay?”
“I am staying, and I’m proving my father’s innocence. Now, I would appreciate it if you would step aside and let me pass.”
He ignored her request. “I don’t see the point in what you’re doing. Your pa is gone. It isn’t going to matter to him what people think.”
“It matters to me. I don’t expect you to understand.” His family had wealth, privilege and a good name. What had he ever struggled for?
“It isn’t that I don’t understand.” His voice softened. “I know you loved your pa. I know you want to clear his name. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
When I wrote SALVATION IN THE RANCHER’S ARMS it was intended as a stand-alone book. I had no plans to return to the thriving little town of Salvation Falls. I was merely passing through. But in the process of telling Caleb and Rachel’s story I couldn’t help but wonder about the future of the handsome (and quite single) Sheriff Hunter Donovan. Needless to say my curiosity won out and back to Salvation Falls I went.
As it turns out, the town has some secrets yet to tell about past loves and old betrayals. Both of which come back to haunt Hunter when an old love, Meredith Connolly, returns to town with justice on her mind.
SALVATION IN THE SHERIFF’S KISS allows me to explore the extremes people go to when trying to protect those they love and to discover how the results alter and change the lives of those involved.
It was a delight to return to Salvation Falls once again, and I hope you enjoy reading Hunter and Meredith’s story.
Salvation in the Sheriff’s Kiss
Kelly Boyce
A life-long Nova Scotian, KELLY BOYCE lives near the Atlantic Ocean with her husband (who is likely wondering what he got himself into by marrying a writer) and a golden retriever who is convinced he is king of the castle. A long-time history buff, Kelly loves writing in a variety of time periods, creating damaged characters and giving them a second chance at life and love.
In memory of my grandmother, Eileen Boyce, for always believing I could do it. It meant the world.
Contents
Colorado Territory, November 1876
“Hoo-wee! That was a tough one!”
“That’s one word for it,” Sheriff Hunter Donovan muttered, bending over to swipe his hat off the saloon floor. He brushed it against his leg then jammed it back onto his head, giving his deputy an exasperated glance. The way the kid was grinning from ear to ear, you’d think he’d lassoed a wayward bronco, not helped take down three brawling idiots too stupid to know when to quit.
It was hard to believe only five years separated their ages. Had he ever been that young and foolhardy? If so, he’d be sure and stop by old Sheriff McLaren’s grave and issue a most heartfelt apology.
“Aw, hell, Sheriff. It ain’t so bad. Beats sittin’ around all day staring at the walls.”
Hunter scowled. “Being a sheriff isn’t about having fun, Jenkins. It’s about keeping the peace, stopping these kinds of things before they happen. You need to be vigilant, because