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Monday, August 15, 2016

Wash Line Monday! #MondayBlog

Our Monday meme shines a light on apparel. From Regency to Steampunk, and everything in between, we dress our characters to reflect the story we want to tell.

In comments, and in 300 words or less, give us a snippet from your novel that describes what your heroes, heroines, or bit players are wearing. Don't forget your buy link and website/blog link. Have fun!

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Dressing our Characters on Exquisite Quills' Wash Line Monday!   


Anonymous said...

She had just slipped her feet into her black high-heeled shoes when she heard a knock at the front door. She smoothed her hands down over her blue dress, quickly checked her hair and make-up in the mirror, then went to the door and opened it.

Charlie stood on the landing. She saw the sleeve insignia of a Flight Lieutenant on his tunic before the red roses and cap in his hands. Slowly raising her eyes, she smiled. His face was flushed and he looked tired, but he was so handsome.

“Hello, Kate,” he said simply. “I brought these flowers for you. Ready to go?”

She took the roses and smelled them, then hesitated. “Thank you. Charlie, I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve cooked something here.”

To her relief he shook his head. “Not at all. In fact, I’m glad. I’ll have you all to myself. Unless your flatmates are here?”

“No, they’ve...they’ve gone out.” Kate felt beads of sweat break out on her forehead but forced herself to be calm. “Come in, let me take your cap.”

“Thank you.” He stepped into the hall. “My tunic too, if you don’t mind.”

She closed the door, watching as he slipped it off, revealing a blue shirt, black braces, and a black tie.


She hung the tunic and cap up on the hooks behind the door, feeling his eyes on her.

“You look lovely, Kate.”

“Thank you.” She turned, noting the dark circles under his eyes. “Are you all right?”

“Tired, you know?” He shrugged. “I was in France, well, the French-Belgian border.” He rolled his eyes. “Bit of a baptism of fire. We were attacking bridges and German troops there. I was shot at by a Messerschmitt and just about made it back over here.”

Into The Unknown by Lorna Peel


Claire Gem said...

From 2016 NY Book Festival Award winner, Hearts Unloched, on sale for $2.99 this week only!

As Marco climbed out of his car, he heard the growl of an engine and looked up to see Kate’s white Porsche crawling up the drive. He took a deep breath, straightened his Gucci sunglasses on his face, and waited for her to park.

When she did swing open the Porsche’s door, his breath caught in his throat. She was dressed in mint green today, a shirt-dress with white buttons all the way up the front. Well, almost all the way. The top few had been left open to reveal several inches of pale, freckled cleavage.

Damn her. She’s taunting me.

“Good morning, Ms. Bardach. Happy opening day,” he called, remaining where he was, leaning on the rear bumper of his Infiniti.

She paused a moment and swung her head around, tilted as if in question. “Oh,” she chuckled.

“Right. Opening day for the project. For me, the term brings to mind racing season.”

“Ah, yes it would,” Marco replied, remembering how they’d met that day in the lonely grandstands of Montlake Raceway.

Had it really only been a few weeks ago? Marco felt like their meeting—and those few days after—were a dozen years in the past.

“How’s the nag been running, anyway?” he jested. “Been up to see her run again since then?”

Kate opened the luggage compartment at the front of her car and lifted out a large, flat portfolio, along with her briefcase. Not the red one today. Of course not. Red would have clashed horribly with the green dress. Today’s briefcase was a mellowed, chocolate brown.

Hearts Unloched
Book Trailer

Janis Susan May said...

From SHADOWED LEGACY, a post-Civil War gothic romance

“Mademoiselle has been taking a walk?”
I looked up further in the mirror saw the reflection of Agnes standing impassively by the fireplace. Why in the world did anyone bother with doors in Louisiana, since no one seemed to pay any attention to them?
“What are you doing in here?”
“Why, waiting for you, mademoiselle, to help you dress.”
Now, I had been dressing myself for a great number of years, but I had also learned that what were simple words in Colorado had a variety of meanings down here.
“To change into your pretty frock. Since you were so late, I took the liberty of choosing an outfit for you.”
She certainly had. Across the bed lay the most elaborate dress I owned. In Denver Mr. Eversleigh had insisted that I have a dress for evening, and, putting their heads together, the gaggle of seamstresses had come up with a creation that I was convinced was far too grand for me ever to use. Of dull gold taffeta, it was cut lower in front than any costume I had ever dared to wear while singing. It fit like another skin down to my waist all around and almost that tightly in front clear down to the floor, all the skirt material being pulled into a great knot and spill in the back. The sleeves were mere narrow bands of silky dark gold fringe around the top part of my arms. There was more fringe hung here and there on that mass of material in the back; it looked almost as if someone’s parlor curtains had fallen on me.

Shadowed Legacy - ebook - paperback

Mellie said...

Jareth, First Lord--Esperance Book 1

The deep blue ankle-length skirt she’d chosen for the evening was held in place by a wide leather belt. Its ornate silver buckle went well with the amethyst necklace and charm bracelet Jareth had bought for her on their infamous ride. Adorned with pearls and lace, her blouse was gathered off the shoulders. It should make an impression.
Jareth was stunning in a coat and trousers of midnight blue worn over a white silk shirt. His tie bore the crest of Clan Brannach. Viviane couldn’t understand the overwhelming sense of immense power surrounding him, which was heightened whenever he was emotionally charged. She could almost see it pulsing in the air and reaching out to touch those nearby. Certainly the stories about the First Lords’ powers were myth, weren’t they?