Weekend Writing Warriors Post 6/12/16

Howdy! It's Sunday, which means it's time for the weekly WeWriWa blog hop, a fun opportunities for a wide assortment of writers to show off a snippet of their writing. Participant's represent a wide assortment of genres, writing styles, and differing backgrounds. It's a fun opportunity.

I'm still posting from my short story, Pig in a Poke, which was published just one year ago in the The Chocolate House-All for One-Anthology. The story is set in Bath, England towards the end of the Georgian period. This particular snippet does an excellent job of demonstrating how frustrated I've become with the romance genre's tendency to stick to male protagonists that look like Greek gods instead of average blokes. It's entirely possible that some creative editing was required to make this snip meet the 10 sentance limit!

The newcomer wasn’t unattractive, but he also wasn’t the type of man who’d cause eligible ladies to swoon and giggle when he walked past. Average height with a slenderness that didn’t appear to be from physical exertion so much as a tendency to skip too many meals, which, based on the fine cut of his clothes, had been missed by absentmindedness rather than lack of means.

His features were symmetrical and even, but again, average: a straight nose, straight mouth, cheekbones that were neither too high nor too low, faint cleft in the chin, gold spectacles magnified a pair of cerulean eyes that were lit with a deep intelligence. His pale, unblemished skin suggested he spent most of his time indoors. Dark blond hair peeked out from beneath his hat, wound into tight curls, and twisted around his one extraordinary feature, a cute pair of jug ears.

The scent of tobacco, ink, and paper wafted from his clothing.

He lacked the type of countenance that caused girls to swoon and sigh when men passed them on the street yet there was something about him that Letty found immensely pleasing. The longer she gazed upon him, the more smoothly his features seemed to fit together and the more striking he grew.

The stranger removed his hat and dipped into a deep bow. “Simon Harper, at your service.”