Falling In Love!: A Smalltown Christian Romance

By Linore Rose Burkard

Falling things get broken.

Unless they fall into place! 

When Sharona Davidson returns home to tend her sick mom, the last thing on her mind is getting involved with an old friend she'd rather forget. The last time she gave love a chance, she ended up shattered. 

 

Health geek and swim coach Jason Colden's always hoped Sharona would return. His strong faith and integrity begins to win her over, but when his business is implicated in a nasty cover-up scandal, can he convince her that his love is real and won't destroy her fragile heart? 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lilliput Press
• Release date: Dec 29, 2019
• ISBN: 9780979215469

Linore Rose Burkard

Linore Rose Burkard is a serious watcher of period films, a Janeite, and hopeless romantic. An award winning author best known for Inspirational Regency Romance, her first novel (Before the Season Ends) opened the genre for the CBA. Besides historical romance, Linore writes contemporary suspense (The Pulse Effex Series, as L.R. Burkard), contemporary romance (Falling In), and romantic short stories (ie., Three French Hens). Linore has a magna cum laude English Lit. degree from CUNY which she earned while taking herself far too seriously. She now resides in Ohio with her husband and family, where she turns her youthful angst into character or humor-driven plots. Sign up for Linore's newsletter to be automatically entered in monthly book drawings. You'll also receive a free novella, Coach and Four: Allisandra's Tale, set in the days of King Charles II!  Enter your email to join here: http://www.LinoreBurkard.com

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Cover by DesignXpressions, Dayton, Ohio

Second Edition

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

FALLING IN: Sweet, Smalltown Christian Romance

Copyright ©2019, 2023 by Linore Rose Burkard

Published by Lilliput Press, LLC Ohio

ISBN: 978-0-955511-07-0 PRINT

ISBN: 978-0-979215-46-9 EPUB

FICTION-Romance, Christian 2. Women’s fiction 3. Romance, Sweet and Wholesome 4. Romance, Smalltown

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

"This one’s for the girls." Martina McBride Song

To wonderful women everywhere who support, encourage, and bring out the best in their friends. Some special ones I have been blessed to know are: (in order of our acquaintance) Juni Salley, Donna Jones, Nirma Rodriguez, Laura LoFaso, Carol Stapinski, Mary Traynor-Grabher, Debi Trent, Debbie Hanna, Beth Buch, Eileen Fuchs, Jan Fields, Mary O’Malley, Barbara Lindemann, Barbara Burkard, Lena Ferdelman, Lisa Smith, Paula Sanders, Missy Quellhorst, Pam Palser, Debbie Lynne Costello, Sandi Andrews, Teresa Slack, and Donna Shepherd.

And to my beautiful daughters Kaitlin, Bethany and Grace.

To me, you ladies make up a hall of fame!

Table of Contents

ONE: Engaged! (Sort of)

TWO: Second Thoughts

THREE: The Summer Club

FOUR: Jason

FIVE: Lunch at Angela’s

SIX: Trouble for Restonville

SEVEN: On the River

EIGHT: Frannie

NINE: Lisa

TEN: Trouble at the Pool

ELEVEN: The Swimsuit Club

TWELVE: False Alarm

THIRTEEN: A Kiss

FOURTEEN: Dinner at Angela’s

FIFTEEN: Consequences

SIXTEEN: The Gym and a Motorcycle

SEVENTEEN: Sharona Has a Meltdown EIGHTEEN: Jeanine

NINETEEN: Jason Makes a Deal

TWENTY: Training Begins

TWENTY-ONE: A Complication

TWENTY-TWO: Sharona’s Revelation

TWENTY-THREE: More Rumors in Restonville

TWENTY-FOUR: Falling In

EPILOGUE: Bride-to-Be

About the Author

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ONE

Engaged! (Sort of)

M ama, I’m at the airport .

She’d survived the plane.  To Sharona Davidson, tall, slim, twenty-eight, ex-model and now a professional cosmetician, it was no small miracle. She’d been sure her flight would end in disaster, was always sure of it when she flew. Sharona had a Pandora’s box of fears. Flying was one of them.

"Oh, glory!" her mother cried heartily. Sharona stared at her cell phone. Was that the voice of a sick woman? She’d flown to Kentucky from L.A. in a hurry because her mother was supposedly at death’s door from pneumonia. Sharona was doing the makeup for a TV serial on its last episode when Mama’s pneumonia took a turn for the worse—even Angela, her old best friend, had urged Sharona to get home before it was too late—so she’d started packing. Now, only a week later, she was almost home. The place she’d sworn never to return to, aside from Christmas or Easter.

It was hard to believe ten years had passed since she’d graduated from high school, gone to cosmetology school, and left Kentucky. Ten years during which she’d worked on movie shorts and indie films as a makeup artist; then got hired as a model by a magazine features editor who was on the set for a story; and then returned to cosmetology when she discovered she didn’t enjoy modeling.

Her photo shoots had been successful due to Sharona’s thin, long limbs, strawberry blonde hair and smooth complexion, coupled with a few curves in the right places. Her look was sultry, not the happy, smiling face of some models, but the intense, serious stare that once even graced a magazine cover. Her photos appeared in newspapers and catalogs for department stores like Macy’s and Nordstroms. She modeled fashions from overcoats to swimsuits, even lingerie. It was the lingerie shoots that unsettled her. More and more she disliked feeling exposed; that, coupled with a few photographers who had no problem letting loose with lewd comments during shoots, made her quit the industry.

She didn’t go back home, though, choosing to remain in L.A. as a makeup artist, sharing an apartment with Rhonda Newhart, an investigative journalist. The city’s high rents and crowded conditions sometimes led to strange rooming arrangements like theirs. And then there was Pat, a lawyer, her boyfriend. Patrick Sullivan handled Securities Law, dealing with the informational needs of investors as well as disputes and arbitrations. It was stuff over Sharona’s head but fortunately, Pat seldom spoke about his cases.

Except when she told him she was going home for a visit. He’d been complaining about a new company he was working with and said, Hey, it’s from Kentucky, like you. Same general area, too. To most people in L.A., admitting you were from Kentucky was like saying you were an uneducated hick from the deeps of Appalachia. Pat, fortunately, didn’t hold that view.

The loudspeaker announcing that baggage had arrived for a flight drew her back to the moment and her mother, still on the line. I’m about to catch the cab, Mama. I’ll text you the number in case I never get home. This was standard procedure for Sharona since she hated taking cabs and had a deep distrust of cab drivers. Well, it was more than that, but Mama understood.

Of course, darlin,’ you do that. Oh, honey, I’m so excited! I can’t believe you’re so close!

The airport was a good seventy minutes from Restonville, but to her mother, who was used to having her across the country in L.A., this was almost home. "How are you feeling, Mama? You sound good."

She could just make out the sound of a sniffle. I’m okay. Better than I was. Happy I’ll be seein’ my daughter.

Sharona felt suddenly excited, too. She’d be glad to see Mama. Especially after last night with Pat. He’d always been a gentleman, never pushing Sharona if she stopped a straying hand when they were alone. Some men wouldn’t call back after encountering her limits, but instead of getting mad, Pat seemed almost pleased. Sharona figured he took her modesty for good morals. And she ought to have good morals after being raised in the Bible belt, but what he didn’t know was that her standards were more bulwarks than mores, protective defenses she’d put up after a harrowing episode in high school. It was more than a decade ago but might just as well have been yesterday. It was that incident that made her leave town like a scared deer as soon as she could. It also gave her a deep distrust of men. But Pat respected her limits. He was safe.

Do you need me to pick up anything? Should I bring lunch?

No, honey, the ladies from church have been here almost every day since I left the hospital, and they don’t come empty-handed. Including Angela. You just get yourself home.

Sharona and Angela Petroni had been best friends since elementary school and kept in touch by phone and texting. At least, they used to. They’d fallen out of touch over the last few years except for updates on Sharona’s mother that Angela still sent occasionally. Sharona had let her know of her plans to visit and looked forward to seeing her.

Outside the airport’s main entrance, Sharona snagged one of the numerous cabs in line at the curb. As she opened the door, she caught sight of the beautiful sparkling diamond on her ring finger—Pat! Last night came flooding back. She had doubts about marriage to begin with, and doubts about Pat. She’d been honest about her doubts, but last night he’d been romantic and sweet and she’d ended up accepting the ring despite misgivings.

She quickly texted Mama the cabbie’s ID number from the placard in clear sight, and then surveyed the ring again. She and Pat had been dating almost a year but saw each other on weekends only. Sharona hadn’t expected him to get suddenly serious about their relationship. But instead of the quick goodbye she’d envisioned after a meal at their favorite Thai restaurant, he’d insisted he needed to talk to her. They’d gone up to her apartment.

Pat was dark-haired and attractive, a nice guy, loquacious but not a deep thinker. After repeating that he needed to talk to her, he kissed her. Pat’s kisses were measured and controlled, like his very scheduled life. He drew her onto his lap. When he tried to slip a hand beneath her blouse, Sharona had a knee-jerk reaction. Don’t, she said, forcing their lips apart. Pat readily drew back. She would not have been alone with him had she not been sure that he would. He looked hard at her. Okay. He dug in his pocket and pulled out a small felt-covered box, the kind that held rings. Oh, no! Sharona was shocked. Was he going to propose? So soon? Her heart constricted. She cared about Pat—but marriage? He was cupping the box reverently in one hand, then held it out, looking at her with hopeful eyes.

You won’t have to work if you don’t want to, he said. When she only continued to stare at the box and shook her head in the negative, he picked the ring out and took her hand.

I can’t, she cried. I’m sorry, but—it’s just too soon.

Worry flitted across his features. I know it’s soon. But we get along great. He stroked her face with one finger. I really want to deepen our relationship. And I want a ring on your finger before you go gallivanting back home, if you must know.

She relaxed. There’s no one I’m going back for, except my mom. And Angela. This can wait. In her mind’s eye, she got a brief, surprising image of Jason Colden, a guy she’d spent one long afternoon and night walking the town with, a night when she’d been deeply troubled and found a sympathetic ear in him. They talked and walked, holding hands, for hours, until dawn. But she’d been mean to him afterward. And they’d never even dated. Now and then Angela, who was friends with him still, told her that he’d asked about her, but she didn’t know why he would. She’d never forgotten him, though.

Pat frowned. Look, I told you about my boss and ‘company expectations.’ He thinks I’m getting engaged this weekend.

Why’d you tell him you were before asking me?

He paused, giving her a soulful look. Can you just agree to be engaged for a while? Junior partners don’t become senior partners in my firm without a wife; preferably a couple kids, too.

He had mentioned such things before. Pat’s superiors were old school. They liked things traditional. But she hadn’t dreamed it meant he’d propose so quickly.

They won’t know the difference if I don’t accept this ring.

But I’ll know, and I’m a lousy liar. Please, Sharona. He squeezed her hand. You might decide you want to marry me, you know. There are worse things in life than being a lawyer’s wife.

When she only frowned, he said, I know you weren’t thinking marriage—but my promotion depends on this. If I’m promoted and we do get married, you’ll benefit as much as I will. He stopped and kissed her cheek. I’m ready to go down the aisle with you. But I’ll wait. Can you just wear the ring, please? And think about it? He paused, eyeing her earnestly; his expression reminded her of a hopeful little boy. Pat really was a sweet little boy with a grown-up job, Sharona thought.

Think of your mom, he added. Isn’t she always asking when you’re gonna settle down? His tone implied that this was a strong argument in his favor. Sharona’s lips turned up slightly. He did have a point.

That’s no reason to accept an engagement ring, she said, softly.

Take a look at it, he said, holding it up before her. She stared at him sadly. Did he really think the beauty of a ring might change her mind?

What will it hurt? he asked. You said your mother might be dying. Wouldn’t it make her supremely happy before she dies if she thinks you’re gonna settle down?

Hmm. That was another point. Sharona eyed the ring, an elegant, huge, solitaire diamond, with sparkling baguettes on each side. It was a ring any woman could be proud to wear. A ring that must have cost a small fortune. Pat was only a junior member of his firm and had surely sacrificed to buy it. She suddenly felt teary.

Pat saw her face and drew her into an embrace. You can have as long as you need to decide. Moving back, he went to put the ring on her finger. She drew her hand away, still feeling torn, but he took her hand and gently slipped it on. Don’t worry, I understand. You have doubts about us. I can live with that. Looking deeply into her eyes, he said firmly, With this ring, I thee engage. He pressed a kiss to her hand and smiled. That wasn’t so painful, was it?

Sharona glanced at the gleaming rock on her finger. "I shouldn’t wear this. I don’t deserve to wear this. You ought to get your money back while you can."

Don’t worry, I can always return the ring, I checked, but I don’t want to. I want you to wear it.

Pat—.

Do you really want to ruin our last night together before you go? His dark brows furrowed. Give it some time. Someone from my firm has to go to Kentucky for that company’s business. I’ll make sure they send me, and we’ll see each other. Who knows? he said, with a smile. You might miss me more than you think. He kissed her forehead.

Sharona moved into his arms for a good embrace. She didn’t feel ready for marriage and wasn’t sure what she felt for Pat was love. But would it be so terrible for her to wear a lovely ring? She drew back to meet his gaze. Okay, she said. He nodded, and his lips compressed. Sharona thought she saw tears in his eyes. He choked out, I’ll do my best to make you want to keep it on.

So there was the ring, still on her finger. The very real doubts she’d felt remained as well. But hey, Mama would be happy.

TWO

Second Thoughts

Jason Colden, twenty -eight, was in water up to his chest holding onto a swimmer no bigger than the length of his arm when his secretary’s Texan drawl came over the intercom at the Kentucky pool complex. She sounded unusually urgent. Jason, pick up, line two, please, STAT. Jason, line two, STAT. The swimmer’s mother stood on the side of the Olympic-sized swimming pool, gesturing and in a panic. Oh, my word! Is she okay? Is she okay?

She’s fine, she’s fine, he said, moving toward the woman, the toddler dangling from his hand. He held the little imp up to face him. She might have drowned if he hadn’t seen her and jumped in, but she blinked up at him without a trace of fear.

Don’t jump in the pool without your floaties on. He tried to sound severe, but the little girl’s large eyes melted any stern feelings he might have had. And he could be stern. Especially about safety. It was his pool, his most important business, though his holdings were diverse, and he didn’t want accidents, much less drownings, to occur.

The voice came again over the intercom, this time with undisguised exasperation. Jason—I said, STAT!

The mother reached for her baby, but gushed at Jason, I can’t believe she got away from me! And I thought she was afraid of the water!

Just keep an eye on her for now on, he said while handing her over. The little offender turned and grasped his arm, as though she’d decided she liked this big man who had brought her to her mommy. He extricated himself gently, and then sprinted across the floor to the nearest door, grabbing a towel from a stack on the way. As he got near the hallway leading to his office, his secretary, fifty-something Brenda Miller, stood waiting with a wide-eyed look, holding a phone which she hurried to place in his hands. She said she tried your cell, but there was no ansuh.

He covered the speaker with one hand. WHAT is so important? STAT is a hospital term for a medical emergency, you know that, right?

She shook her head. Of course; I used to work in a hospital. I was just sayin’ the call is urgent. She gave him a meaningful look and whispered fiercely, "It’s Mrs. Davidson!"

His eyes came alight, but he tossed his towel at her. "I thought it was business, something important. Like my uncle calling about that deal with

OMNI."

She hissed, This is more important than business!

Jason smirked at her skeptically but took the phone.

Mrs. Davidson. Hi.

The secretary tsk-tsked and stayed right there, making no secret of listening.

Howdy, Jason, came the voice over the phone. Just thought I’d let you know, if Angela hasn’t already told you. That certain person is coming in today. Her flight should be landing any minute.

One thick brow on Jason’s face went up. I appreciate that, thank you, Mrs. Davidson. Um. Do you think I ought to stop by?

At the other end of the line, Mrs. Davidson smiled. Jason was still interested.

You leave it to Angela. She’ll get Sharona over by you. The rest is up to you.

Got it. Thank you, Mrs. Davidson! By the way, how are you feeling? Despite the pool complex and a thriving Main Street with shops and various businesses, Restonville was still a relatively small town, and word got around.

I’m improving, thank you.

Glad to hear it, he said, and then thanked her again for the call. He handed the cell to Brenda, who was smiling widely. He turned toward his office without a word. The secretary, all curiosity, followed. Brenda Miller was from Texas, and still had the drawl and big hair to prove it. She’d come to Kentucky to live near her only daughter, but Jason was like a son. You are fixin’ to tell me what’s up, right?" She turned large eyes with her usual fake lashes up at him.

He returned a veiled expression. You mean the part you didn’t overhear? What part was that?

Brenda pressed her lips together. The part about what you’re gonna do next. She followed him down the long hallway toward the administrative wing. "You are fixin’ to call that girl, right?"

I’m your employer. I ask the questions.

And young enough to be my son. And besides, I could always call Mrs. Davidson myself.

Go right ahead.

Brenda hrrumphed loudly.

Fine. Her daughter’s here on a visit, as I’m sure you’ve heard. Angela will bring her here. Eventually. I guess. He frowned and looked suddenly concerned. You think she’ll come?

Brenda smiled as they entered the office suite, which held both his office and a reception area with her desk and files. There were two smaller rooms as well, one administrative, where the accountant came once a week to keep up the books, and the other a storage room.

If I know Angela Petroni, Brenda said, and she did know her, for Angela was the leader of the Swimsuit Club, as it was called, and swam daily at the pool. ...when she comes for her daily swim, she’ll bring that gal along. They’ll turn up sometime today, I reckon.

He stopped to face her. ‘‘Today? She’s only arriving today. He looked concerned. How do I look? Do I need a haircut? His expression was vulnerable, even boyish, but there was nothing else boyish about Jason. He was six feet tall and all muscle. He had a tough face, smooth-shaven earlier but already showing signs of light golden stubble. At the moment his skin glistened from pool water, and, wearing only swim shorts, there was a lot of skin to see. Brenda flicked her gaze over him briefly. After a pause, letting him squirm for a moment, she said, That girl hasn’t got a chance."

Jason smiled, turning toward the bath and dressing room attached to his office.

"Thanks, Mom."

Though he was kidding, Brenda felt mighty pleased. He might be her boss, but Jason was the same age her son Sam would have been had he lived; and being single and motherless made Jason a perfect target for her maternal instincts. He appreciated it too, she felt. Mostly.

WASN’T A GIRL SUPPOSED to be head over heels in love before getting married? During the cab drive to Mama’s house, Sharona couldn’t help studying the sturdy diamond, sparkling prettily in faint rainbow glimmers from its setting. But trying to envision herself married brought a shudder. She had deep-seated concerns about marriage, complicated shadows from years past when her mother had bitterly railed against a father Sharona remembered as cold and distant. If he did pay attention to her, it was negative, even threatening. He’d given her the creeps. Coupled with an episode at sixteen with that skunk Raul, Sharona wondered if she was capable of ever loving a man deeply enough to want to marry him. The deeper question, to her mind was,