Coleen Kwan

It's time for another Six Sentence Sunday. These sentences come from my current WIP. My heroine, Toni, has just returned to her hometown after a long absence and bumps into her old childhood friend, Dion.


“Still doing that bean counting stuff, huh?” The corner of his mouth twitched.

Her back stiffened. “I’m a qualified CPA now,” she couldn’t help saying.

“A qualified bean counter, then.” He lifted his eyebrows.


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Another six sentences from Asher's Invention:


“Do you regret the night we spent together?” He didn’t know why he asked that question, but he had to know the answer.

She paused an interminable while before speaking, “No, I don’t. I wanted to savor what little time I had with you.”

He wheeled round. “You mean, before I found out what had been going on behind my back.”


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For this Six Sentence Sunday I thought I'd post some lines from my contemporary romance, When Harriet Came Home:

Adam Blackstone. Almost unrecognisable. Ten years ago he’d had smooth, boyish good looks,designer clothes, and a sports coupé—but now! Now his dark hair was close-cropped, he drove a truck, wore work boots, jeans and a plaid shirt, and he looked rugged and gritty as sandpaper. The prince had turned into a woodcutter. Even his eyes seemed different—still grey, but with tiny creases at the edges and a dark sombreness lying in their smoky depths.

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Another six sentences to share from my steampunk romance, Asher's Invention which goes on sale June 25! Here, Asher and Minerva are talking about the invention he’s worked on for many years, and which Minerva’s father stole from him.

Asher bit his tongue. Never would he admit to her how many hours he had slaved.

He shrugged. “I’ve dabbled in it on occasion, when I have some spare time, which is not often these days.”

“You’ve no wish to prove your theory correct?”

“The only theory I’ve proven is that men will do anything for money.”



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Here are my six sentences from my soon-to-be released steampunk romance, Asher’s Invention. In this scene, the heroine, Minerva, has just met her ex-fiancé, Asher, for the first time after five years.

In the intervening years his chest had filled out, his shoulders broadened. Dressed in his velvet-trimmed coat, brocade vest and silk cravat, he cut a dashingly handsome figure, though he was no slave to fashion, as evidenced by his unfashionably long hair and lack of sideburns. But all lingering youthfulness had been stripped from him, and he seemed more cynical and aloof than his nine-and-twenty years warranted.

Had she done this? She and her father? Were they responsible for the tautness of his lips, the adamantine glint in his eyes?