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“Her eyes were a shade between amber and brown. Her face was scrubbed clean, void of any of the creams that some women favored to add color to their lips and cheeks. She had made no effort to hide the smattering of freckles on her nose, as some women were wont to do. He felt something inside him tighten. Oh, but she was a beauty, a sweet, natural beauty- not perfection. And it was that very unadorned quality that made her more beautiful still. Little tendrils of hair, the color of chestnuts turning in the sunlight, trailed from her nape and her temples. And there, in front of her ears. It was as if she'd wound her hair in a loose topknot and hadn't given it another thought. He wondered if she was the absentminded sort.” — Samantha James
Her eyes were a shade between amber and brown. Her face was scrubbed clean, void of any of the creams that some women favored to add color to their lips and cheeks. She had made no effort to hide the smattering of freckles on her nose, as some women were wont to do. He felt something inside him tighten. Oh, but she was a beauty, a sweet, natural beauty- not perfection. And it was that very unadorned quality that made her more beautiful still.
Little tendrils of hair, the color of chestnuts turning in the sunlight, trailed from her nape and her temples. And there, in front of her ears. It was as if she'd wound her hair in a loose topknot and hadn't given it another thought. He wondered if she was the absentminded sort.