"Saxon Bride" by Tamara Leigh

I've been in an historical romance mood of late, don't ask why. I've even broken out my old Julie Garwoods and Judith McNaughts and became all nostalgic for a time, in my greater youth, when historical romances were my bread and butter. Thus I picked up Saxon Bride on the merit of raving reviews. I found it good, if not great, and a bit more Iris Johansen than Julie Garwood.

Called the Bloodlust Warrior of Hastings, Maxen Pendery retreats to a monastery after the Normans conquer England, hoping a life of contemplation will wash the blood from his soul. But soon he is out to avenge his brother's murder, only to fall in love with a woman--who may turn out to be his brother's killer.

I think I would have liked this one a lot more had it not been for one distracting detail: the hero, fresh out of a monastery, spends a good chunk of the story with a tonsure. Talk about a mood killer. I just couldn't get over it, and I can't understand why the author kept bringing it up. Bald spots are just so not cool. The story, itself, was fairly entertaining, so I may check out some more of Leigh's work, provided there are no monasteries.