In the meantime, here is a sampling of sentences from this week's labors (and I assure you, writing often feels very much like labor!) of Courting Cassandry.
Mini-cast of characters to help you keep everybody straight:
Gerolt: My fifty-something year old hero
Cassandry: My forty-something year old heroine
Antony: Cassandry's late husband
Rauffe: Gerolt's teenaged son
Samson: Gerolt's best friend
Monday: Perhaps that was why Gerolt had courted Cassandry with praise as a girl, instead of speaking to her frankly from his heart, permitting Antony to beguile her away from him with the endearments that fell so easily and passionately from his lips.
Tuesday: Then Cassandry’s words floated into Gerolt’s mind. Rauffe wants so much for you to be proud of him. He has no comprehension of how much you love him. Why have you never told him?
Wednesday: Either way, the bliss she had tasted in Gerolt’s kisses had already shattered. All her longings stilled in his embrace, only to be snatched away by one cruel truth—she was too old.
Thursday: Cassandry would have thrown the gift in Samson’s face if he had been standing here. Instead she threw it on the bed with a force that made it bounce three times across the blankets.
Friday: Cassandry had buried her love for one man in her life. She would bury this love too.