The Wedding Dress Yes (Crossroads Collection)
Page 28
1. Much of the heartache in this book could have been avoided had Ty not succumbed to the temptation to avoid upsetting someone. How often do we allow the fear of man to stifle what should be said or done?
Proverbs 29:25 & Proverbs 27:6
2. Ty considered the practice of Lara’s and Preston’s individual faiths to be too disparate to be wise. Can believers be unequally yoked with other believers? After all, the Scriptures speak specifically about unbelievers. Right? What Scriptures would you use to support your conclusion?
3. Several people hinted and outright expressed concern about Preston, but Lara didn’t take it seriously. What does the Bible say about listening to the counsel of others?
Proverbs 12:15 & Proverbs 15:31-33
4. Coming from the other side, when should we be willing to speak up and share our concerns. Is the accusation of judgment a valid reason to refrain? What Bible verses speak to this issue?
5. When Lara told Preston about Ty’s question regarding pornography, he was appalled. Do you think that is a valid question to be addressed before marriage? Why or why not? What Scriptures support your position?
6. Lara considered reading “steamy” romance novels to be equivalent to pornography for her. Does she offer a valid argument, or is she giving too much weight to fiction? How would Philippians 4:8 play into your answer?
7. Mr. St. James knew of his son’s problems but chose not to enlighten Lara about the issue. At what point does a believer have the responsibility to “interfere,” and when should she “mind her own business?”
8. When Mr. St. James learned the truth of his mother-in-law’s actions, did he make the right choice to involve the police when it was obvious she wasn’t in her right mind? Do you think he would have done it if she hadn’t threatened Lara? What about Preston? Was he wrong to hide his knowledge of her crime from the police? If any of them didn’t know how to handle the situation, what could they have done differently instead of ignoring the problem?
www.chautona.com
Chautona Havig lives in an oxymoron, escapes into imaginary worlds that look startlingly similar to ours and writes the stories that emerge.
An irrepressible optimist, Chautona sees everything through a kaleidoscope of It’s a Wonderful Life sprinkled with fairy tales. Find her on the web and say howdy—if you can remember how to spell her name.
Newsletter:
chautona.com/newsletter
My blog:
chautona.com/blog
YouTube:
www.youtube.com/user/chautona/videos
Facebook:
facebook.com/chautonahavig
Twitter:
twitter.com/Chautona
Instagram:
instagram.com/ChautonaHavig
Goodreads:
goodreads.com/Chautona
BookBub:
bookbub.com/authors/chautona-havig
Amazon:
amazon.com/author/chautonahavig
The Rockland Chronicles
Aggie’s Inheritance Series
Ready or Not
For Keeps
Here We Come
Ante Up!
Past Forward: A Serial Novel (Six Volumes)
HearthLand Series: A Serial Novel (Six Volumes)
The Vintage Wren (A serial novel beginning 2016)
The Shopkeepers of New Cheltenham
The Ghosts of New Cheltenham
Something Borrowed, Someone Blue
The Hartfield Mysteries
Manuscript for Murder
Crime of Fashion
Two O’Clock Slump
Front Window
The Agency Files
Justified Means
Mismatched
Effective Immediately
A Forgotten Truth
Sight Unseen Series
None So Blind
Will Not See
Ties that Blind
Argosy Junction
Discovering Hope
Not a Word
Speak Now
A Bird Died
Thirty Days Hath…
Confessions of a De-cluttering Junkie
Corner Booth
New Year’s Revolutions
Premeditated Serendipity
Hello Crossroads Reader!
I pray that you enjoyed getting to know Ty and Lara and were blessed by their journey of faith, love, and trust that whenever your plans need to shift to match with God’s plans for you.
It is now my great joy to introduce the third book in this collection, Black Belt, White Dress by the unquestionably brilliant author, Hallee Bridgeman. I first met Hallee when we began planning the very first Crossroads Collection and have enjoyed getting to know her better with each one since. While I enjoy sharing a love of Christian fiction with her, I think what has impressed and blessed me most is her fierce love and advocacy for her autistic son. Her blog posts, social media posts, and conversations revolve around her love for her boys and her determination to embrace her son for who God created him to be. It’s taught me much about characters in ways that I don’t think she could have anticipated.
In Black Belt, White Dress, Hallee introduces you to Deputy Sheriff Traci Winston, a girl with a “dude-tude” that grates on her “ribbons and bows” mom just as much as her mother’s tea parties and pink chiffon annoys Traci. Traci agrees to marry Taekwondo Master Travis Seaver just as long as they exchange vows at 2000 feet while skydiving over the Grand Canyon. However, Traci’s terminally ill mother’s dying wish is that her only daughter experience the lavish princess wedding she never had. Traci finds herself trying on elaborate white dresses and planning an unbelievably elaborate ceremony in their hometown church, complete with bouquets, butterflies, and bow ties.
Please enjoy this story of honoring your parents, marriage, and learning about God’s perspective of the husband/wife relationship – even when the personalities are extreme!
Author of Something Borrowed, Someone Blue
a novella by
Published by
Olivia Kimbrell Press™
Copyright Notice
Black Belt, White Dress: Red Blood and Bluegrass Series Book 1. First edition. Copyright © 2019 by Hallee Bridgeman. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or recording—without express written permission by the author and publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed or broadcasted articles and reviews.
Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or intended to be used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, organizations, places, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental and beyond the intention of either the author or the publisher. The characters are products of the authors’ imaginations and used fictitiously.
PUBLISHED BY: Olivia Kimbrell Press™*, P.O. Box 470, Fort Knox, KY 40121-0470. The Olivia Kimbrell Press™ colophon and open book logo are trademarks of Olivia Kimbrell Press™.
*Olivia Kimbrell Press™ is a publisher offering true to life, meaningful fiction from a Christian worldview intended to uplift the heart and engage the mind.
Some scripture quotations courtesy of the King James Version of the Holy Bible.
Some scripture quotations courtesy of the New King James Version of the Holy Bible, Copyright © 1979, 1980, 1982 by Thomas-Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
Original Cover Art by Amanda Gail Smith (amandagailstudio.com).
Library Cataloging Data
Names: Bridgeman, Hallee (Bridgeman Hallee) 1972-
Title: Black Belt, White Dress; Red Blood & Bluegrass book 1 / Hallee Bridgeman
150 p. 5 in. × 8 in. (12.70 cm × 20.32 cm)
Description: Olivia Kimbrell Press™ digital eBook edition | Olivia Kimbrell Press™ Trade paperback edition | Kentucky: Olivia Kimbrell Press™, 2019.
Summary: All Traci wants is to marry Travis while skydiving ove
r the Grand Canyon. So how did she end up planning the wedding of the year complete with ribbons and bows?
Identifiers: LCCN: 2019942863 | ISBN-13: 978-1-68190-156-5 (ebk.) | 978-1-68190-157-2 (Audio) | 978-1-68190-158-9 (trade) | 978-1-68190-159-6 (hardcover)
1. clean romance love story 2. women's inspirational 3. man woman relationships 4. Christian living 5. wedding 6. small town suspense 7. women crime fighting
Each book in this collection is the intellectual property and the copyrighted material of the respective author and/or publisher and is reprinted as a part of this collection (anthology) only once and only by permission of the owners. The publisher makes no claim on, or to, the property of the owners which exceeds that permission. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the authors’ imagination or intended to be used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, organizations, places, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental and beyond the intention of either the authors or the publisher. The characters are products of the authors’ imaginations and used fictitiously.
Traci Winston faced the man standing in front of her. He had three inches on her five-foot, seven-inch height, and probably outweighed her by fifty pounds or more. She fisted her hands and slightly rose onto the balls of her feet. A bead of sweat ran down her back, tickling as it made a path along the tensed muscles, but she ignored it. Instead, she watched his eyes, gauging when he would make his move. As expected, she caught the flare of his eyes just as his leg came forward to sweep her feet out from under her. Anticipating that move, she sprang up and executed a perfect jump kick into his chest, sending him flailing backward. With his balance compromised, she landed and turned her body to side kick into his ribs, sending him all the way down.
The command from Master Travis Seaver ended the spar, and she relaxed, reaching down to help her opponent up. He hesitated before taking her hand but finally relented and allowed her to assist him. Once he had gained his feet, she slapped his hand between the two of hers as a silent acknowledgment. With Master Seaver’s next command, they bowed to each other and shook hands once more, then jogged to their places in the formation.
With a third-degree black belt and as the highest-ranking member of the group, Traci led the class in the ritual dismissal, then made her way to the dressing room. In no time, she had changed out of her dobak and into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt commemorating a Thanksgiving 5K she’d run last November. She pulled on a pair of socks and slipped her feet into her well-worn leather boots, tossed her dobak into her bag with her deputy sheriff’s uniform, and pulled the band out of her hair, letting the straight blonde tresses loose from their braid for the first time since her 6 a.m. shower.
On her way out of the locker room, she hit the switch for the light, leaving a dark room behind her. Because she already had boots on, she walked along the outer edge of the mat and went to Travis’ office. Pictures of him in various jump kicks graced the walls, and a large frame of his advancement in belts from white to his current fifth-degree black belt hung above a large bookshelf. He sat at his computer, frowning as he typed with two fingers. He always frowned at his computer screen. The warm glow of the desk lamp made the reddish highlights in his dark hair glow as if it had a halo. When she came into the office, he shut the lid of the laptop and pulled it from the port.
“There she is,” he greeted with a smile. He’d already changed into jeans and a blue T-shirt with his company logo on the back. He stood and came around the desk.
“Hey, you.” His arm slipped around her waist, and his warm lips covered hers. After dating for over two years, she kept expecting to get used to the feel of him, the smell of him, the taste of him, but every single time, it swept her away. She put her fingers on the sides of his face and felt his soft beard against the palms of her hands. He pulled her even closer and gripped the back of her hair. The intensity of emotions he pulled out of her made her legs quiver and drew a moan from deep inside her. She started to step closer, to wrap her arms around his neck and deepen the kiss, but he moved his hands to her hips and stepped back, putting some distance between them as he slowly gentled the kiss.
When he lifted his head, he stared down at her. She thought she could drown in the intensity of his green eyes. He brushed a strand of hair off her cheek then pressed his lips against her forehead.
She stepped back, immediately missing the feel of his body heat. She felt the silly grin on her face. A little breathless, she asked, “How has your day been?”
“Taught hand-to-hand at the police academy today. That’s always a good time.” He rubbed a hand over his beard. His eyes lit up with amusement, and he winked at her.
Feeling a warm rush of emotion as she remembered three years ago back to the first time she met him at the police academy, she grinned. “I didn’t know what I didn’t know until you got a hold of me.”
“Ha!” He grabbed his keys out of his desk drawer. “Ready?”
“Yes. I’m starving.” They didn’t have a lot of time during most weeks to spend together, but the days she could attend his last class, they always had dinner afterward. It made for a late night since the class ended at eight, but having the chance to share a meal with him made it worth it.
Most places in Charula, Kentucky closed by eight. That limited their meal choice options. They could drive to another town, which they’d done a few times. They could also drive outside town to the intersection with the interstate and hit a fast food place, which did not appeal to either of them. Usually, they went to Betsy’s, the diner near the courthouse. Betsy stayed open until ten on weeknights and eleven Fridays and Saturdays to accommodate the mill’s second shift that ended at nine. Added bonuses were that they could walk to it, the dinner crowd had already dispersed by eight-thirty, the mill crowd hadn’t arrived yet, and they both enjoyed the simple, homemade fare.
The early-spring evening felt nice, and the peak of the sunset lit Main Street with reds and golds reflecting off the storefront windows. Last week it had snowed. This week, the temperatures rocketed to the mid-70s, a typical early April week in central Kentucky. Traci slipped her hand into Travis’ and leaned into his arm as they walked. She carried her bag because she’d go straight home from the diner. They strolled down Main Street toward the river, passing the Main Street Church and Two Sisters’ flower shop, then crossed the road to the diner. Travis reached around her and opened the door, the bells jingling to announce their arrival.
“Hi, kids,” Betsy Bates said from behind the counter. She had cheaply dyed brown hair, hard ice-blue eyes accented by too much mascara, and the weathered and wrinkled face of a woman who had spent most of her youth working on a farm. As one of her favorite people, those eyes lit up whenever she saw Travis. “How’s things?”
“Been a day,” Traci answered with a smile. She and Travis slid into their usual booth. “But it’s Tuesday. You got any meatloaf left?”
“Only because I figured you two would be in tonight. I had to squirrel a slice away for ya.” She looked at Travis. “Whatcha want, darlin’?”
“Hmmm. Let’s do grilled chicken salad. Oil and vinegar dressing.”
Traci propped her chin in her hands and smiled at him. “I refuse to give up meatloaf. I’d rather work out an extra hour tomorrow morning to make up for it.”
He smiled and reached for her hand. “I have a tournament coming up. We can celebrate my win by eating meatloaf.”
“Deal.” She stared into his eyes, her heart rate increasing just from touching his hand. How did he do that?
When Betsy set their drinks next to them, it startled her. She hadn’t even heard her approach. “When are you two lovebirds going to make it official?”
She stood there, hands on her skinny hips, staring down at them as if her question merited a serious response.
Travis just grinned up at her. “God’s timing is perfect, eh, Miss Betsy?”
“Well, sure. But if He’s talkin’ and you ain’t listening, who’s that on?”
/>
She walked away without waiting for his answer. Traci laughed at her back, but when she looked at Travis again her mouth went dry and the ability to make sound fled. The intensity of his look took her breath away. “What?” she croaked out.
“Let’s do it.”
Oh, she didn’t like the sound of this. She pulled her hand from his and gripped it in her lap. “Do what?”
“Get married.”
No. No. No. The word tripped around inside her head. No way. Her mother would become like a ravenous dog with a bone. She couldn’t possibly put herself in that position.
Even though the words screamed in her head, none of them would come out of her mouth, giving Travis leave to root around in the front pocket of his jeans and pull out a velvet ring box.
Oh no! He’d even bought a ring? He had it in his pocket?
Without warning, without waiting for some silent clue from her that this was in any way okay, he slid out of the booth and got down on one knee in front of her. She stared at him as if her eyes could will him back up and back into his seat. When he opened the box, her jaw fell open.
Instead of staring at some ridiculously large marquee cut stone glinting in the fluorescent lights of the diner, she stared at a black silicone ring with a crystal embedded in it, flush with the silicone. Her shocked eyes darted back and forth between the ring and his solemn expression. Emotions flooded her chest, tears sprang to her eyes, and she covered her mouth with one hand to hold back the sob.
“Traci,” he started, then cleared his throat and continued, “Traci, I love you. I have loved you from the moment you flattened me with a reverse round kick. Putting your black belt on you is one of my happiest memories. I would love to marry you, to love you for the rest of my life, to go to bed next to you at night and wake up next to you in the morning. Will you marry me and be my partner in life, with God as the head of our home?”