"Nothing Is Really as It Seems in This Suspenseful Romance"
Reviewed by Sandra Wurman
Posted June 15, 2015
Romance Suspense
An unforeseen series of events opens the door to a well
done romantic suspense with the requisite number of
twists and turns. Dotting the i's and crossing the t's
brings COLTON COWBOY PROTECTOR to a well conceived and
well written conclusion, but here's the
interesting ah ha
moment—is it really the end? Beth Cornelison ends
COLTON COWBOY PROTECTOR without filling in all the blanks. Cornelison dangles some
interesting tidbits that could be hinting at some
intrigue in future stories. Luckily COLTON COWBOY
PROTECTOR is the first entry into the Coltons of
Oklahoma
series.
Both Tracy McCain and Jack Colton have something in
common—bad marriages that left them with trust
issues
and a reticence to chance any new relationships. Tracy
was lucky to survive her marriage but the cost was
high—
it cost her cousin Laura her life. Laura was her only
living relative except for Seth, Laura's son. All Tracy
wants is to connect with Seth and form some kind of
relationship however small.
But Jack Colton, Seth's father, has other ideas. After
Seth's mother walked out on the two of them he took the
role of single dad very seriously. So seriously his life
seems lacking any joy. Jack is surrounded by his parents
and siblings who adore his son. He doesn't feel Seth
needs anyone from his ex-wife's family—that would
only upset the fragile balance of their world.
No one could have guessed the impact of Tracy's arrival
at the family ranch. She is lovely, very caring
to Seth, but at the same time she seems rather fragile.
Jack
has to keep that in mind when his protective instinct
toward Seth rear its ugly head. There is no real
reason for his contempt for Tracy. Her only "flaw" is her
relationship to Laura.
As events unfold, the family realizes that Tracy is
definitely in trouble—problem is she has absolutely
no
idea who would want to harm her. And Tracy's
own protective side has her truly considering leaving
Seth and his dad to remove that element of danger.
Fabulous. Simply fabulous. I purposely am being very
vague because it would be criminal to give away any part
of this wonderful mystery. And I for one am so very glad
COLTON COWBOY PROTECTOR is the first in an ongoing
series, the Colton's of
Oklahoma.
At the end you can't help but say you want more. Thanks
to Beth Cornelison
more is on the way. Keep a
lookout for the Coltons of Oklahoma romantic
suspense
series. See if you can guess how many more to look
forward to as you read the introduction tale COLTON
COWBOY PROTECTOR.
SUMMARY
Rancher and single dad Jack Colton must face an assassin in
the thrilling first book of The Coltons of Oklahoma… A beautiful stranger appears at the Colton ranch during a
party, and Jack is none too pleased. With ties to his
ex-wife, Tracy McCain claims to be on a mission to bond with
his son. But this intriguing widow also has a target on her
back. As the Colton family brings Tracy under its broad
wing, a relentless assassin puts everyone in jeopardy.
Jack's protective instincts go into overdrive…and only fuel
his secret attraction to Tracy. Living closely together
under Jack's roof, the heat between them starts to sizzle.
In fact, the only thing stronger than Jack's heady desire
for Tracy is his will to keep her safe…so that one day they
can become a family.
Excerpt"In one hundred feet, turn right onto access road," the
stilted voice of the rental car's GPS intoned.With a deep breath for courage, Tracy McCain signaled the
turn. She noted with interest that the car ahead of her on
the isolated stretch of rural Oklahoma highway also made a
right onto the side road leading to the sprawling ranch of
cattleman John "Big J" Colton. More interesting were the three cars that followed her onto
the long driveway, including a television news van complete
with a satellite dish on top. What the heck was going on at
the Lucky C ranch today? The iron gates, normally requiring someone at the main house
to buzz you in, stood agape, allowing the parade of cars to
continue up to the house unimpeded. As Tracy passed through
the stone-walled entry, she noticed the Lucky C logo, an
upright, good-luck horseshoe with a C inside, atop the posts
on either side of the iron gate. She hoped the logo boded well for her. She could use a bit
of good luck today for her mission. From what her cousin had
told her, the Coltons were a stubborn bunch, hard-nosed and
highly protective of their family and their business. Tracy wiped her sweaty palms on the legs of her slacks as
the string of vehicles rolled closer to the ranch buildings,
past acre upon acre of prime grazing fields. She looked for
a place to pull off and park as they approached the main
house, but, trapped between the SUV in front of her and the
news van behind her, she had no real choice but to pull
right up the drive to the front door of the Colton mansion.
Laura had told her the Coltons were wealthy, but the
glorious estate before her sent a fresh roll of trepidation
through her. Holy cow—or maybe she should say holy
cowboy—the place was big…and beautiful. She knew how David must have felt going up against Goliath.
What were the odds that she, an unemployed widow, a
down-on-her-luck nobody with only a tenuous right to the
claim she wanted to stake, could hold sway with the mighty
Coltons? She glanced at the snapshot of a small boy that she'd laid
on the passenger seat, and her spirits lifted. Seth was
worth the effort. And she owed Laura. Big time. When the line of cars stopped on the cobbled drive in front
of the stone-facade mansion, a man in a white button-down
shirt and black pants yanked open her driver-side door. Tracy gasped and shrank away as he stuck a hand toward her.
"Wh-what are you doing?" He flashed a lopsided grin. "Offering you a hand out. We
cowboys are raised to be helpful to ladies." "Oh…thanks, but no." She glanced around at the manicured
lawn. "Where should I park?" "You don't." She jerked a startled look back to the dark-haired man, who
either had a head start on his summer tan or an enviable
heritage lending him his copper-toned skin. "Pardon?" Had she been recognized as an interloper? Was she being
dismissed even without getting to state her case? The cowboy chuckled and wiggled his fingers, indicating she
should get out of the car. "Parking is my job today. But
don't worry. I drive cars as well as I drive cattle. I won't
scratch it." A car horn blasted behind her, and another man in a white
shirt leaned out of a vehicle behind her and shouted, "Come
on, Daniel. Schmooze the ladies on your own time, man.
You're holding up the line!" The cowboy-valet at her door smiled at his cohort and
deliberately scratched his temple with his middle finger.
Offering his hand to her again, he said, "Ma'am." With a nervous grin, she grabbed her purse off the floor and
took his callused hand to slip out of the rental car. As the
valet—Daniel, the other man had called him—climbed behind
the wheel, she remembered her messenger bag. "Wait! I need
that." She pointed past him to the passenger seat. But instead of
the bag, he zeroed in on her snapshot. He picked up the
photo with a curious frown. "Hey, isn't this—?" She snatched the picture, drawing a deeper scowl from him.
"My bag. Please." Daniel retrieved the satchel and handed it to her, along
with a small piece of paper. "Write your tag number on this
and give it to whoever's manning the front door when you're
ready to leave. Someone will bring your car around." With that, he closed the door and sped away. "But I don't know—" She quickly shifted her attention to the
rental car's license plate and caught the first few digits
before her valet-cowboy turned out of the circular drive and
headed toward the back of the property. As she crossed the
driveway, headed for the front door, she stuck the photo in
her purse, then fumbled for a pen to write the plate numbers
down. Tracy joined the stylishly dressed reporter and
bored-looking cameraman from the news station, climbing the
decorative concrete steps to the front door. The reporter
knocked on the dark wood door inset with an ornate glass
window. While they waited for an answer, Tracy practiced in
her head what she would say when she confronted her cousin's
ex. Honesty was a good policy, but how open would the
Coltons be to her proposal, if they knew her past? She
didn't have long to mull over the question, as the door was
answered quickly by an effusive older woman with a dark bob. "Veronica Hamm, KRQY News," the reporter said, offering her
hand. "Of course! I'd know that pretty face anywhere!" the woman
at the door gushed, ignoring the proffered hand and swooping
in for a girlie hug and air kisses on each cheek. "Come in,
come in! I'm Abra Colton. Thank you for coming." Tracy's stomach flip-flopped. Abra Colton. Seth's
grandmother. As matriarch of the Colton clan, Abra could be
key to whether Tracy was accepted by the family or not. Their hostess waved the cameraman and Tracy through the door
without so much as a "hello." Abra clearly had use only for
the newswoman, and she continued buzzing over her like a bee
to the sweetest rose. "The media room is to the right at the
back. We'll have our big announcement in just a little
while." She hooked arms with Veronica, ignoring Tracy and
the cameraman as she walked the reporter into the house. "In
the meantime, help yourself to the buffet out by the pool,
and a glass of champagne. Big J and I ordered cases of the
best bubbly from France for the occasion!" As the cameraman trailed after Abra and Veronica like an
obedient puppy, Tracy lingered awkwardly in the entry hall.
She glanced around at the high ceilings, marble floors and
triple arches leading into the formal living room, and her
pulse picked up speed. How had Laura walked away from all this grandeur and wealth?
Seth clearly had a better life here than what she could have
offered, but leaving her son behind had been harder on Laura
than she pretended to the Coltons. She'd done what she had
because she'd wanted the security and opportunity that a
life with his father could afford Seth. "A little less ogling and a little more giddy-up if you
don't want to get separated from the rest of your crew." Tracy gasped and spun to face the man who'd spoken. She
found herself staring up into the bright green eyes of a
cowboy with broad shoulders, shaggy chestnut hair and a
somewhat surly expression. Her mouth dried as she held his level stare. He had the
rugged good looks Laura had said the Colton men all shared,
and a commanding presence that made Tracy's toes curl in
feminine appreciation, despite his less than welcoming greeting. "I'm, um…not with the news crew." Tall, Dark and Sullen grunted. "In that case, the food is
out by the pool. Eat up, 'cause your hostess spent as much
on that buffet as two pure-blood, registered breeding bulls
would cost at auction." With that, he strode away, his gait
brisk and confident, and disappeared into the crowd of guests. When the doorbell sounded a few seconds later, Tracy was
still standing in the foyer, gaping at the spot in the
mingling crowd where the devilishly handsome but curt cowboy
had joined the soirée. A woman wearing a housekeeper's
uniform and her silver hair twisted up in a bun scurried out
from a side door and balked when she saw Tracy. "For Pete's sake, don't just stand there, girl!" The older
woman flapped her thin hands as if to shoo her out of the
entry hall. "There are guests to serve and drinks to be
poured. Get busy! Don't make me report you to the catering
company." Tracy gave a self-conscious chuckle. "I'm not with the
caterers. I'm looking for—" The woman jostled her out of the way to open the front door.
Tracy's opportunity to ask for directions was lost as the
housekeeper greeted the arriving guests with enthusiastic
smiles and hospitality. Rather than continue to stand at the door like a bump on a
log, Tracy sidled into the living room. She clutched her
messenger bag close to her body to avoid jostling anyone or
knocking over one of the numerous champagne flutes resting
on trays in the exquisitely furnished room. Dressed in basic
khakis and a simple print blouse the same caramel color as
her hair, she noted that she was underdressed for whatever
event the Coltons were celebrating. Feeling all the more out
of place, and hoping to camouflage herself against the
French-vanilla walls, she began inching her way through the
clusters of guests. Maybe she should just leave. Clearly, now was not the time
to approach Jack. She was an uninvited interloper at a
high-society event. She didn't belong. Story of her life. Sighing with resignation, she'd started weaving her way back
toward the front door when a large, boisterous man with a
thick shock of silver hair caught her arm. "Hey, little darlin'. Whatcha doin'?" Busted. "I—I'm sorry. I was just leaving." "Leaving? Hell, darlin', the party's just getting started good." She recognized the green eyes that flashed at her with
mirth. Tall, Dark and Surly's eyes had mesmerized her with
the same bright emerald shade, and the gruff cowboy could be
this flirtatious gentleman in thirty years…if he added this
man's playful smile. "Why is your hand empty? You should have a glass of bubbly.
This is a celebration, darlin'!" He snagged a glass of
champagne off a passing tray and shoved it at her. "Bottoms up!" "Oh, I'm not—" She stopped short as she realized who this
animated man was. She'd seen his picture when she'd
researched the Lucky C on Google before coming to Oklahoma.
"You're Big J! I mean.J-John Colton." Though John laughed and nodded amiably, she felt her cheeks
heat with embarrassment. Great. She'd just called one of the
wealthiest and most powerful men in the ranching
industry—heck, in all of the United States' agribusiness—by
his nickname. Way to make a good first impression… "Yes, I am, darlin'. Yes, I am." He took a step back and
gave her a slow once-over that brought the stinging flush
back to her cheeks. "And who might you be? I believe I'd
remember meeting you, if I'd ever had the pleasure." "Tracy McCain. I'm actually here to speak to Jack. Can you
point me toward him?" "I could, but…I'm still enjoying your company." The older
man winked. "Besides, Jack is probably hiding somewhere
until time for the announcement." "Announcement?" Big J gave her a you've-got-to-be-kidding look. "Greta's
engagement. That's why we're all here lifting a glass." "Oh." Tracy fumbled for anything Laura might have told her
about Greta. But Big J seemed oblivious to her mental catch-up and helped
her out by adding, "It's not every day a daddy gets to toast
his only daughter getting hitched, so we went all out for my
Greta." Only daughter…of course. Greta was Jack's sister. The
youngest of the Colton children. Tracy smiled and raised the
glass John had foisted on her. "Well, here's to Greta." "To Greta!" Big J clinked his glass with hers, so hard the
contents of both drinks sloshed out. Without warning, he gave a shrill whistle, startling Tracy
so much that a shot of adrenaline raced through her,
tripping her pulse. "Brett! C'mere, son." Big J waved someone over, and a tall,
athletic-looking man with short brown hair separated himself
from a circle of cloying women and strutted across the room. Tracy goggled as he approached. Dear God, did the Coltons
have an account at hunkycowboys…com? She had yet to meet one
who didn't look as if he'd walked off the pages of a
hot-ranch-hands catalog. Big J put his hand on Brett's shoulder when he reached them,
and jerked his glass toward Tracy. "Brett, my boy. This
lovely filly is Tracy McCann." "Um.McCain." "I am going to leave her in your good hands," Big J
continued, as if he hadn't heard her correction. "She's
looking for Jack. But before she talks to your brother, I
think she needs something to eat." "No, really, I'm not here to eat. I just need to speak to
Jack." Tracy's stomach chose that inopportune moment to
growl. Thankfully, the din of the party conversation and
background country music muffled the sound. Brett took her hand and, rather than shaking it, merely left
his fingers wrapped warmly around hers as he gave her a
smile that twinkled in his trademark Colton-green eyes. "My
dad's right. You don't want to meet my brother on an empty
stomach. Besides, the brisket is so tender it will melt in
your mouth. Follow me." He tugged her hand as he led the way out to the pool, where
a small acoustic band was playing the country tunes she'd
heard inside. Brett steered her to a buffet table piled high
with beef brisket, rolls, fresh fruit, veggies and dips,
cheeses of all types, and an array of the most
sumptuous-looking desserts Tracy had ever seen. Her mouth
watered, and she decided it would be a good idea to have at
least a little something to eat. She and Brett both picked
up plates and started down the buffet. "Wow!" He chuckled. "I know, right? Abra knows how to put out a
spread, huh?" He used the tongs from a tray of cheeses to
pile sliced beef and bite-size meat pastries onto Tracy's
plate. When melodic laughter drifted to them from a small
group by the desserts, he called, "Hey, Ryan, save some of
those brownies for the rest of us." "You snooze, you lose," a muscular man with telltale green
eyes marking him as another Colton quipped. "Greta said I
could have hers." The brunette woman beside Ryan elbowed him. "I said you
could have mine, not the rest of the tray!" Brett hitched his head toward the group. "Tracy, have you
met this crew? My brother, Detective Ryan Colton of the
Tulsa PD, and of course, the honorees, my baby sister,
Greta, and her fiance, Mark
You-Better-Be-Good-to-Heror-I'll-Kick-Your-Ass Stanton." The russet-haired man next to Greta laughed as he offered
his hand to Tracy. Brett's face sobered, and he gave Mark a
squinty-eyed glare. "I'm not joking, man." Greta shoved her brother's shoulder. "Brett, stop trying to
intimidate my fiance, you big goof." Brett grinned broadly. "Yeah, okay." But when Mark smiled in
relief, Brett blanked his face again in an instant and
raised an eyebrow. "But I mean it." "I already warned Mark that I know a hundred ways to kill a
man and hide the body without being caught," Ryan deadpanned.
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