Colton's Secret Bodyguard

Colton's Secret Bodyguard
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His mission: Keep her safe, no matter what… Just as Bree Colton is about to take the local art world by storm, someone is determined to sabotage her success…Unless Rylan Bennet can keep her safe. Yet Bree doesn’t want anyone to protect her—not even gorgeous Rylan, whose secrets threaten them both….

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His mission: keep her safe, no matter what...

A Coltons of Roaring Springs thriller

Just as Bree Colton is about to take the local art world by storm, someone is determined to sabotage her success…unless Rylan Bennet can keep her safe. Bree doesn’t want anyone to protect her—not even gorgeous Rylan, whose secrets threaten them both. But can the former soldier win the battle for Bree’s heart and the war against a sinister foe?

JANE GODMAN writes in a variety of romance genres, including paranormal, gothic and romantic suspense. Jane lives in England and loves to travel to European cities that are steeped in history and romance—Venice, Dubrovnik and Vienna are among her favourites. Jane is married to a lovely man and is mum to two grown-up children.

Also by Jane Godman

Colton and the Single MumCovert KissesThe Soldier’s SeductionSecret Baby, Second ChanceOtherworld ProtectorOtherworld RenegadeOtherworld ChallengerImmortal BillionaireThe Unforgettable WolfOne Night with the Valkyrie

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Colton’s Secret Bodyguard

Jane Godman


www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09383-5

COLTON’S SECRET BODYGUARD

© 2019 Harlequin Books S.A.

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is dedicated to my very beautiful,

very tiny new granddaughter.

Welcome to the world, little one.

Bree Colton had stopped trying to reprogram herself. Some people were larks, others were owls. Larks were cheery rise-and-shine morning people, the sort who started yawning once darkness fell. Owls were the alarm-clock-smashing, dance-till-dawn types. Bree was a night person, at her best between midnight and 4:00 a.m.

Which meant that right now, at eight thirty in the morning, she was having trouble remembering her own name. Over the years, she had developed strategies for dealing with her daybreak intolerance. The first stage was caffeine. Rocket fuel strength, without a trace of cream or sugar. Bree had trained her assistant to keep the coffee coming until she was ready to face the world. Most mornings, it took a long time.

Her other tactic solved two problems. One of her most precious possessions was her digital recorder, which, as well as helping overcome the morning brain fog, was also an aid to coping with her dyslexia.

Every evening, before she left the gallery, she would record the following day’s to-do list. Her first task each morning was to link the recorder up to her laptop, so she could upload her list into her voice-activated diary. Then, of course, she had to get her newly caffeine-fueled body moving and do the things she had planned.

After taking a long slug of coffee, she pulled open the top left drawer of her desk and reached inside without looking. It was where she always placed her recorder and when her fingers didn’t automatically close around it, she frowned. A quick search through the contents of the drawer confirmed her worst fears. The recorder wasn’t there.

She bit back an exclamation. The forthcoming art show was taking up all her time, and she’d worked late the previous night. It had been almost nine o’clock when she’d finally left the office. Scrunching her forehead, she made an effort to remember. She could recall dictating her list. Then what?



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