Welcome to my contribution to #WIPpet Wednesday*, a blog hop where authors share from their current works in progress (WIPs)! I’m still plugging away at my yet untitled WIP. Yes, I’ve a few titles in mind, but I’m not ready to share any of them as of yet.
If I’m slow to share your comments, don’t fret. I’m currently residing in the land of medical… stuff. I’ll be back soon so comment way. I’ll reply as soon as I’m able.
WIPpet One: Something Brand New
WIPpet Three: No Daughter of Liberty
WIPpet Six: Short People Problems
WIPpet Seven: Apple Dumplin’ Shop
Note: We’re starting a new chapter, and Nub’s in the company of someone he’d rather not share airspace with. Remember that we’re in Nub’s POV.
“Miss Charity.” I nod politely and turn toward the kitchen, but Conall catches me by the shoulder, turning me about.
“It’s an unexpected pleasure to join you this evening, Miss Charity.” He nudges me toward the only empty spot at the dining table. This isn’t fine dining, but Widow Alcott tries to hard make it look thusly so I try to sit straight in my seat. It’s uncomfortable, and the bench’s uneven boards are already digging into my backside. Conall frowns at me when I squirm, but Charity giggles.
“Why, Mr. Baldwin, you’re hired boy seems ill-fit for the main table.” She dabs her mouth with her napkin though we’ve only just sat. “Perhaps he’d rather dine in the kitchen.”
I peer at Conall with begging eyes, but he shakes his head. So much for an out. I’m mired here, like it or not.
Gee, I wonder what Nub thinks of Charity and formalities of any sort.
yeah, I’m not sure I’d want to stay there, either.
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Not my tastes either. Poor Nub.
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[…] WIPpet Eight: Mired […]
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[…] WIPpet Eight: Mired […]
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[…] WIPpet Eight: Mired […]
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