A Sneak Peek

After many requests and much trepidation, I agreed to show you a snippet of my book.  I know it is silly for me to be afraid to show people, since my ultimate goal is to get my work published, but showing it before it has been edited by a professional, is a little scary to me.  I have edited this page, many times, but as many authors/editors will say, I am too emotionally attached to my work to look at it objectively.  I realize this type of genre isn't everyone's preference, but I hope you will look at it with objectivity for what it is and what it is supposed to be, a Christian Historical/Romance Fiction.  If you spot any errors that need editing, please feel free to comment and help me out.   So, I am giving you a sneak peek and hoping you enjoy a glimpse into my story. Introducing......the first page in my book, Hope for Charity...by Sandy Kay Slawson.

Hope for Charity

Chapter 1

Husthwaite, North Yorkshire, England

1747

Charity Baines stood across the street looking at the mercantile.  O, how she wished there were another choice, that wasn’t a days walk away or more.  After overhearing what she did from her father and step-mother, Gwyneth, a few nights ago, she wished she never had to walk into that shop again. Now, she didn’t know if she would ever feel comfortable in there.  She wrapped her shawl around her shoulders tightly and gave a shiver.  Spring would be here any day and she could not wait.  She did not like being cold, although she tolerated it, when she had to, but give her a warm day and she blossomed with the flowers.    At least the clouds had vanished and the sun was unhindered from shining down and warming up the day to a bearable chill.  Charity glanced at the sun.  She had hoped to get an earlier start today, but here it was almost noon.

Charity looked at the mercantile and the shops surrounding it and noticed how the village was changing and growing.  Men, women and children seemed to be busy as bees going here and there and doing who knew what.  She wondered how many people lived here now and where they all came from.  Some of the women and men looked like they were wearing their Sunday best, unlike her in her everyday work dress. She supposed if they lived in the village, they didn’t need to wear work clothes like a sheep farmer’s daughter.  She didn’t come for a Sunday or Monday (as this day was) stroll, though. She had a list of supplies she needed to get and she needed to get it done in a timely manner or Gwyneth would throw a fit.  She just did not want to go in that shop.

As Charity mentally prepared herself for her task, she looked again at the buildings across the street. The mercantile connected with the post office and a barber shop.  It looked like someone had recently painted the front of all three places of business.  The mercantile had  some new stenciling in the window.  She read it out loud, “Hawksworth’s  General Store and Mercantile Since 1729.”  Almost as long as she had been alive.  She looked down the street and saw the smoke from the blacksmith and the houses along the street that were growing in number.  She saw men going in the tavern and heard a piano start playing a tune she wasn’t familiar with.  As the village grew, there would surely be more shops in the village and hopefully one of them would be another mercantile.  Charity chastised herself for her cowardice, that could be years away and she needed supplies now.  “I have to stop putting this unpleasant chore off,”  she told herself.