Sunday 9 June 2019

First Hundred Words: Love Began at Christmas

I've been playing with the first 100 words of some of my books. To avoid cutting off in the middle of a sentence, I'll go to 100 and then add the rest of the sentence in question. 

Yvanne stood on the bridge near Skipton Manor, sunk in a miserable reverie, staring at her soft shoes. She’d been doing that a lot, lately. It had got to be a habit and she desperately wanted to move on. The pain of unrequited love had dulled to a faint background ache. She barely thought of it anymore, but it was there because…well, because she had nothing to take its place.
This is so undignified. I am a courtfolk lady. Courtfolk ladies do not mope over men who are betrothed to other ladies.
She tore her mind away and tried to remember where she was going, and why. 

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