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Monday, August 22, 2016

Wash Line Monday! #MondayBlogs

Our Monday meme shines a light on apparel. From Viking to Regency to Steampunk and every era we write in, 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!   


Savanna Kougar said...

***New Release***

WAITING FOR A FILLY GIRL ~ A ShapeShifter Seduction Erotic Romance Novel

Chapter Twenty-seven:
Beautiful Medieval Princess

"Keina," he breathed out. Drev couldn't have moved a foot if his life depended on it. His eyes felt as if they leaped from their sockets. "You look like the most beautiful medieval princess."

"You are so kind, Drev."

"Kind isn't the word. Awe-struck...maybe. Let's say, bewitched out of my mind."

With a beatific smile, Keina halted. She raised her arms gracefully, and whirled like a dancer. The gown was a magical twirl around her slender figure, and Keina's long gorgeous hair swung, flowing in silky waves.

Drev drank in the sight like a man with an unquenchable thirst.

Spinning to a stop, Keina caught hold of the gown's skirt. She beamed another smile at him. "May I tell you how handsome you are, my Drev."

Regaining some of his cockiness, Drev stepped toward her and offered his arm. "Only if you join me for dinner, my princess."



Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance and

Excerpt/Buy Link: http

Janice Croom said...

Death of an Island Tart by Janice Croom
An amateur sleuth murder mystery

There comes a time in every woman’s life when she has to go get her man. My time was now. That’s what put me on a jet, somewhere over the Caribbean, in this hootchie-momma outfit I’d let my friend Charlene talk me into. Everything I normally let hang out was trussed up like a turkey, and the things I always kept covered were out there swinging in the breeze.

Clothes may make the man, but they change the woman. I’m a thirty-something African-American with junk in my trunk and a chest that women go under the knife for; I always dress to downplay that. I want folks judging me for my mind, not my body.

In this stuff, every time I stood, my chest ended up in some man’s face. And when I walked, my butt swished like a Whirlpool on agitate.

Clothes may change the woman, but they make the man lose his mind. They got me to the front of the security line and into first-class on a coach ticket. Terrence didn’t have a prayer.

I hesitated at Terrence’s door. I was the one who’d messed up; what would he think when he saw me? I knew what I wanted him to think. Like Charlene said, ‘This outfit was the ribbon on a package designed to be unwrapped.’ Let the unwrapping begin.

I knocked. When the door opened, Terrence wasn’t the one standing there.

The chick’s skirt was smaller than the handkerchief my daddy carried on Sunday, and her breasts threatened to pop out that training bra she wore for a top. With cornrows down to her waist, she looked like a sister. I could tell, underneath her tan, she was whiter than Wonder Bread.

“You must be Kadence,” she said.

“No, I must be pissed. Who are you?”

Death of an Island Tart Available on Amazon
Janice Croom web site