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Monday, February 24, 2014

Wash Line Monday!

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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Come see my snippet on Exquisite Quills' Wash Line Monday!    


James D said...

OK, this is from the third book in my Dream Series, "Dream Child" - our heroine is getting ready to reunite with her husband after not seeing him for a week...

Brian is down the hall with Lizzie and Helen. Helen was thrilled to have one more night with her granddaughter, and Lizzie is still too overexcited from dinner and dessert to ask why she’s staying with Helen instead of her mother and father tonight.

I open the door to my room and lock it behind me. I see that room service has been here, exactly as I requested. There’s a bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket, and a plate of chocolate covered strawberries on the little table by the window. Yes, I know it’s a cliché, but sometimes clichés get that way for a good reason.

Everything’s set – almost everything - there’s just one more thing to do. I go into the closet and kneel down in front of the safe, punch in the code I set back on Monday and open it up. Inside is a plastic bag containing the lingerie I first wore for Brian seven years ago, the day he came back to school after Christmas break, the day I broke into his dorm room to surprise him.

I know how this sounds, but I hid it in the safe to keep it from Helen. I was worried she might have to go digging into my luggage to find something for Lizzie, and it’s not something I really want my mother-in-law to see.

The really amazing thing is that it still fits. It’s not quite as perfect a fit as it was seven years ago – like they say about the overhead bins on an airplane, “contents may shift during flight.” But – if this is bragging, so be it – they haven’t shifted that much! I could have bought something new, but that day seven years ago was very special, and I think it’ll mean just as much to Brian as it does to me that I kept my “naughty nighttime” set all this time.

I quickly change and put my bathrobe on – why deny Brian the pleasure of unwrapping his surprise? I’ve just tied the robe closed when he knocks on the door. I open it, and as he comes in, I reach around and hang the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the doorknob before I pull the door closed...

Find it at (or it's on audiobook, too, at

Vamp Writer said...

This is from the first of three in the series of "Immortal Relations" novels which is available at :

"Getting out my picture, I looked everywhere for other pedestrians, but it seemed too early, and I saw no one else anywhere in the area. I held the picture up high, walking around, and closely compared both the architecture and the angle from which the photograph had been taken. As I looked at the windows, I noted one that gave me a reflected view of the other side of the road. There, on the opposite side which had been empty only seconds ago, someone was suddenly standing; but I was sure there hadn’t been anyone there a second before. Seeing her, dressed like a high fashioned model, in a light blue, lacy, scalloped, and layered, yet shape-hugging, haut-couture, dress, I gasped; My God she was stunningly beautiful! I’d seen pictures of “Hollywood starlets” and "super models" and I knew the Czechs had several of these, such as the lovely Paulina Porizkova and Petra Nemcova, and I thought this had to be one of them. But just as suddenly as she appeared, she vanished! I thought she might have moved, and I’d missed it, so I turned to look and found myself starring into a pair of almost black eyes. Automatically, my head jerked back; the vision of loveliness I’d seen across the street was mere inches from me. She said, “Excuse me; I didn’t mean to startle you!” Then she smiled the most brilliant smile I’d ever seen, my knees felt like rubber as I started to fall back, but her hand shot out, grabbing my arm to keep me upright. The power in her arm surprised me, and my heart raced, but I couldn’t tell if it was from almost falling or the close proximity of such a beauty. After I felt like I could stand on my own, she introduced herself as Magdalena Dvora'k, saying she had seen me looking at a photograph and asked if I’d been to Prague before."

Tina Donahue said...

The following is from my March 5 release Seven Sensuous Days, Book Four in my Appointment with Pleasure series. Tessa's just arrived at Logan's secluded estate to being her seven sensuous days with him.

Catching movement in her peripheral vision, Tessa turned and stared at the rustic front door, constructed of a dark wood. Arched and decorated with black wrought iron hinges, it swung inward.

Logan came out to the porch, no doubt having heard the Lincoln’s approach or having watched from one of the many windows.

A flush of stubborn desire heated Tessa’s face, throat, and chest despite her concern over whether they’d talk, or he’d continue to find her acceptable, maybe even attractive. Right now, she didn’t give a damn about her looks or words. She’d worry about both later.

At this moment, she couldn’t look at Logan enough. He’d dressed in worn jeans and a gray T-shirt. His feet were bare, his hair tousled as though he’d combed it with his fingers. His shadow of beard was delicious and welcomed. Tessa wasn’t certain what she’d expected, but his casual attire and demeanor comforted her more than if he’d worn khakis and a sports shirt.

Wallace said something.

Tessa didn’t respond, not having heard his comment. She was far too absorbed by the man she’d be spending the week with. Logan’s shoulders seemed broader than she recalled, his body more powerful. A scant breeze pushed his tee against his chest, outlining his firm pecs and abs. The material fluttered above his fly, the delectable bulge between his legs.

He came down the steps, washed in sunshine, his strides loose, confident, seductive.

Wallace touched her arm. Tessa tried, but couldn’t take her eyes off Logan. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Did what I say help?” he asked.

Logan halted at Tessa’s door, ready to take possession of her.

Wallace’s words rang in her mind, Did what I say help?

She had no idea if it had. Only the next hours and days would tell.



Tina Donahue
“Heat with Heart”


FB Fanpage:
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Gilli Allan said...


Nell has been keeping a low profile. Now, despite her misgivings, she's decided to go to a party.... without her husband. She's scared everyone there will have heard rumours that she accused a popular and charismatic member of the community of being a child molester, and she is the one who will be regarded as a pariah. Even worse, she's scared he will at the party.

‘Nell? Your hair. It’s phenomenal. Wow, what a makeover! Come in. You look totally fab. Let me take your jacket.’
I looked fabulous? She looked like a bird of paradise, from the gleaming iridescent sheen of make-up on lids, cheeks and mouth, to the multi-coloured froth of satin and lace which revealed as much as it covered. I wondered if she was wearing knickers tonight. After much deliberation, I’d decided to buy a new pair of black silk trousers, and had teamed them with a white, lacy camisole top – a garment very nearly discarded after I gave up the bar job – and a vintage black velvet jacket which had belonged to my great aunt. I’d been quite pleased with the look, but now felt drab and typically unadventurous.
‘I’ll keep it on if you don’t mind. It’s a bit...’
‘I know! Who’d believe it was bloody August. It’s the last time I’m doing a bloody barbecue. There’s plenty of food in the conservatory, if you don’t like charred meat. You must find Kate and show her the new image. No wonder you kept out of sight before your grand entrance tonight.’

Toni V.S. said...

My excerpt is from THE ROSE AND THE DRAGON, in which a young woman has some very adventurous babysitting.

Standing on tiptoe, Miranda squinted through the little
peephole in the door, trying to see the speaker. On the other
side, everything appeared dark. She blinked, looked again,
then realized the man was standing directly in front of the
viewer. She was staring at this chest, and no matter how she
twisted to look upwards, she couldn’t get a glimpse of his
God, he must be tall!
Two sharp raps on the door make her jump.
“Are you going to let me in or not?” He struck the door
again, less sharply this time.
“I-if you’re from Mr. Andrus, p-prove it.” Remembering
Dominic’s warning, she stammered the words into the
speaker, and winced as she realized he could hear the fear in
her voice.
“Glad to,” came the reply. “But not out here in the hall.”
What to do? She didn’t want to let him in, but...
“Open the door a little and I’ll hand you the message.”
After a moment’s hesitation, she unlocked the door,
making certain the burglar chain was in place. She pulled it
open just enough to stick her hand through. “Okay, give it to
The next thing she knew, she was staggering backward
trying to keep from falling as the door was pushed open.
Screws tore out of the woodwork, the burglar chain was
ripped out of the frame and both door and Miranda struck
the wall. She regained her balance, managing to keep from
making a hole in the paneling as the man stalked into the
hall. Behind him, the door struck the wall and rebounded,
swinging shut with a crash.
Miranda shrank back, one hand to her mouth. The other
drew her bathrobe tighter around her as she stared at the
He was beautiful, that was the only word to use. Like a
statue. The most beautiful man she’d ever seen. At least as
tall as Dominic Andrus, with dark hair clipped back in a
mass of curls hanging between his shoulder blades, and,
Miranda’s heart gave a frightened thump-thump-thump, he
was wearing dark glasses. In the middle of the night, inside
an apartment building, he’s wearing sunglasses!
He was dressed in what appeared to be a black jumpsuit
and he looked perfect, the only flaw marring that handsome
face was a little scar following the curve of his left cheek.
Three small gold rings dangled from his left ear. Abruptly,
she saw something else. He was armed, with a holster and
gun similar to Niki’s.
He reached up and took off the glasses. Miranda exhaled
sharply, preparing to scream. But the eyes behind the lenses
weren’t white, as she feared. They were the same cat’sgreen
as Dominic’s.
“I didn’t think anyone was stupid enough to fall for that
old trick.” He softened his words with a perfect Andrus

Available from Class Act Books

darlene deluca said...

This is from my women's fiction novel The Storm WIthin.

“Anything else going on?” Elise asked.
“Well, it’s the big July Fourth celebration this week-end, so everyone’s getting ready for that.” She wasn’t, but Elise didn’t need to know that. No way would she mention her date with Ray to Elise.
“Right. So, you’re going?”
“I’m watching fireworks Sunday night with Mary.”
“Okay. Have fun, and we’ll see you next weekend.”
“Sounds good. Tell Olivia I can’t wait.”

Claire put the phone down, then placed the steaks in the refrigerator. Time to get herself put together.
She slipped into a deep rose-colored blouse and paired it with a rose-and-black patterned skirt that had a little tulle ruffle peeking out below the hem to give it just a touch of sass. Some low-heeled black sandals with shiny silver embellishments finished the ensemble – not dressy, but not everyday attire, either.

At three-fifty, Claire began pacing the living room. She couldn’t sit still, but didn’t want him to catch her checking the front window. By four-ten, her stomach was in knots. Could he have forgotten? Was he standing her up? She leaned against the sofa. Surely not. Not after all the cooking she’d done.
Calm down, Claire. You know you’re the only person who’s ever on time. The people around her always seemed to run at least ten minutes late. And he was a man. He probably left his house at four o’clock.
She took a few more sips of wine and wandered into the dining room, adjusting silverware as she walked around the table. She’d placed three small candles in the center of the table. They were cute and would add ambiance without looking romantic.
She jumped when a car door slammed outside. Scurry-ing into the entryway, she peeked outside. Oh, no! In one hand he carried a small toolbox and a shirt on a hanger, and in the other he held a bouquet of mixed flowers. Oh, Lord, if the neighbors saw that . . .

Tony-Paul said...

Today, I'd like to post an excerpt from SHADOW LORD, the first entry in my new vampire series. Marek, the shadow lord, is about to have an encounter with a tailor determined to make him the best-dressed vampire at the banquet, whether he wants to be or not.

“The tailor’s here with your clothes.”
Tailor? Clothes? Then he remembered. The twins’ banchet.
He gathered up the garments lying about the room and pulled them on…his shirt, robe…stepping into soft house slippers.
“Where is he?” Grumbling, Marek opened the door. He threw himself into a chair, looking sullenly at the doctor.
“Waiting below.”
“Well?” He made an impatient gesture. “Have him come up and let’s get this over with.”
Bowing, Sabine backed out of the room. Once in the hall, he hurried to the top of the staircase beckoning to the tailor and leading the man, arms laden with at least half a dozen
garments, into the presence of his master.
The tailor spread his creations upon the bed. Marek forced himself out of his chair and walked over giving them a cursory glance.
“They’ll do.”
“My lord,” Sabine softened his voice from reprimand to suggestion. “You need to try them on.” Marek gave him a blank stare. “To make certain they fit?” the doctor prompted.
With deliberate and exaggerated movements Marek pulled off his robe, folding and placing it on the bed beside the new one. His shirt followed with as much precise care, and he
stood there, fists on his hips, glaring at his naked reflection in the nearby cheval glass.
“M-Master?” the tailor began timidly.
“What?” The question was snapped at the little man.
“Your slippers, my lord?” The tailor gestured at his feet.
Marek looked down and kicked them off, sending each to a different part of the room.
“All right, Jacza, let’s get this over with.”
Nodding, the tailor held out a pair of finely-knit stockings. Inspecting them, Marek settled on the bed to put them on. The trousers were offered next, pulled on and buttoned with a slight
snarl and a grunt. “They’re too tight.”
“Oh, no, sir.” Jacza was earnest. “I was very careful with the measurements. They fit your waist, and…nethers exactly.”
“Anything’s going to feel tight after those old robes you live in, Master,” SAbine remarked. “After all, there’s room enough for three people inside one of the things.” All that earned him
was another grunt.
Marek took the shirt from Jacza, giving a raised eyebrow to the lace on the front and the cuffs, and practically threw it on. When the old man would’ve wound the snowy neckcloth with
its layers of ruffles around the banded collar, Marek backed away, shaking his head. “No. None of that fetita.”
Disappointed, the tailor let the neckcloth hang untied and held up the robe. Marek slid it on. He studied his image as Jacza picked at the sleeves, pushing a tuck here, smoothing a
wrinkle there, and extolling the virtues of the garment. “Notice the ruby cabochons on the yoke, sir, and the gold latticework on the sleeves. It’s most fashionable at the Hungarian court this
year, I’m told.”
Marek studied himself in the mirror, seeing a tricked-out dandy in a burgundy velvet robe studded with red stones, lace falling out of the neck opening and the sleeves. He nearly laughed out loud. He had no use for rubies, cabochon or otherwise, and as for gold latticework?
Bah! He longed for his comfortable student’s robes, as threadbare as they were, where a man might wear nothing underneath and let his privates breathe, instead of bunching them into these
tight trousers which must surely have been originally intended as a torture device. In truth, he felt so constricted, he wondered if he would soon be speaking in a much higher pitch.
He was about to say he didn’t give a damn what the Hungarians wore, and also where they could put their gems and sleeve decorations when he saw Sabine’s reflection frowning at
him from the mirror and shaking its head.
“It’s fine.” He threw the compliment over his shoulder. The tailor bowed, gratified.

Available from Double Dragon Publishing:

Rosemary Morris said...

Wash Day Monday

Extract from Tangled Love by Rosemary Morris

Tangled Love is set in England during Queen Anne Stuart’s reign – 1702 – 1714, an era which some readers will not be familiar with, so I took particular care when describing what my characters wore.
Chesney delighted his manservant by being more particular than usual about his appearance. Chesney took note of the look of satisfaction on Roberts’s face as he drew up Chesney’s black silk stockings before he adjusted the black velvet garters.
Chesney twitched the lace frothing at his wrists into place. ‘My waistcoat.’
He took the cream satin waistcoat from Roberts. With rough movements he pulled it on only to pause in response to Roberts’s pained voice. ‘Allow me to help you, my lord.’
‘I am not a complete milksop.’ Chesney put his waistcoat on before allowing Roberts to ease him into a black velvet coat trimmed with parallel rows of gold buttons and buttonholes bound with gold thread.
‘My lord, if only you dressed so fine every day.’ Roberts removed a black periwig as black as Chesney’s natural hair from a stand. With care he put the periwig on his master’s head.
Ready to depart, Chesney held a black hat trimmed with gold lace and a curled plume in one hand. In his other hand he grasped a cane ornamented with a knot of black and gold ribbons.

Tangled Love is available from: MuseItUp Publishing – Amazon – Barnes and Noble – Smashwords – Omnlit – Coffeetime Romance and elsewhere

ML Skye said...


Today, I'm sharing a peek from Midwinter Crises, Book One of Capital City Seasons available from Ellipses Press, Ltd.

Jess shrugged. "It's part of the job." She handed off her weapon and signed the transfer of arms form.

Then she focused her attention on Murph. "I'm actually impressed you pulled the save outta your ass." And he had pulled it from somewhere… the expected order to take the guy out never came. And it usually did if more than four hours went by.

Jess sat on the edge of the bumper. "How'd you do it? Most Altereds don't respond to reason and logic." Unless maybe it had a warped aspect to it.

Murph flashed a smile. "Honestly? It's a waiting game." She must've shown her confusion because he clarified. "We got here right before the guy hit his high, when he was at his most violent. The trick was to ride it out with him until he came down enough to see the error of his ways."

Doubly impressed now, she had to shake her head. "So you put yourself on the hot seat. Interesting." She let her gaze peruse him, traveling from his feet upward to his face. "You don't look like you have a death wish."

Ben chuckled in response. "I don't. Trust me." He pivoted around, stepped closer to her. "Unless it would convince you to have dinner with me?" Lowered so only she could hear, his voice sent sexy shivers down her spine.

Jess made sure she kept her jaw from dropping. Still clad in full riot gear and this too handsome for his own good guy wanted to have dinner with her?

A guy who didn't wilt under pressure, put himself in the line of fire and still maintained a clean, crisp and dare she think it—fresh—appearance in ninety degree heat had to have something wrong with him.

Maybe he went for chicks in black? Or women who carried powerful weapons on the job.

And maybe she should just respond to his offer already.
Shrugging, she accepted his invitation. "Dinner's good." She had a way to discover if Murph was as unflappable as he appeared. "But only if I get to pick the place." She stood up and flipped open one of the pockets on her vest.


I hope you enjoyed the sneak peek.

Buy Link: Amazon

Please stop by my blog for more snippets
Visit my website

Gail Bridges said...

Excerpt from "America's Darlings" an erotic novel by Gail Bridges.

The story: Leah and Benson are athletes poised to compete in the Summer Olympic Games of the future. Their sport? Sexual Gymnastics. In the following excerpt, Leah and Benson and Soraya (Leah's best friend) are putting on their team uniforms for the first time. It's an exciting moment...

Warning: The following excerpt contains explicit verbiage and references, but no sexual situations.



Coach Bob clapped his hands. “Still with me, everyone? Good. Now pay attention. Coach Debbie is passing out team uniforms.”

We cheered. The uniform design had been kept secret from us.

“Don’t be morons,” he added. “Make sure the one you get is for your event. Please.”

Coach Debbie, standing in the middle of the mat, held up a handful of packets. They were no larger than decks of cards. Our uniforms! She began tossing them into our midst, her long hair swaying from side to side with each throw.

I grabbed one. The tiny package wasn’t mine. I traded with Naomi for a floor exercise uniform. I had no intention of being a moron.

Coach Debbie opened the last package and held the contents high over her head. “See this, everyone? Make sure you don’t miss the American Flag emblems. Each packet has two.”

I tore my packet open and located the stamp-sized emblems.

“Stick them on your upper right arm and on your left thigh, just like the illustration shows. Make sure they’re straight. Once they’re on, they’ll stay for the duration.”

Soraya and I checked one another, making sure our emblems were straight. Then we pressed the tiny flags onto each other. Soraya’s fingers brushed my breast. “I should’ve stuck that on your boob! Right on top. A much better place for it.”

I swatted at her. “Shoulda, woulda, coulda. Too late, honey.”

I took four satiny items from the packaging, shook them out and held them up. Like always, I marveled at how tiny they were. Scraps, really. One size fits all. I loved the swirling colors, a deep blue that was almost purple and a saturated red that was almost maroon—altogether different than the solid blue Uniforms we’d been practicing in. Excited voices from my Teammates echoed my approval of the new color scheme. The fabric shimmered in the Oostif’s lights. No sparkles or sequins, though. Sharp-edged discs of metal are not particularly vagina- or penis-friendly.

“Are we supposed to put these on now?” asked Benson.

Coach Bob clapped his hands. “Leah. Benson. You’re up. Why aren’t you dressed? Get dressed!”

I pulled my uniform top over my head and patted the inch-wide piece of fabric into place around my neck, making sure the “V” fell between my bare breasts. Then I swiped the “stickum” applicator on my skin to keep the “V” in place. Now for the uniform bottom. I bit my lip—sometimes I had a hard time finding the front. I tugged the uniform bottom over my thighs, my hips, then smoothed the narrow elasticized band around my waist. It echoed the lines of the Uniform Top, complete with a small “V” that pointed downward toward my pubic mound and my neatly trimmed, light-brown pubic hair. Everything below the band was bare, except for the ankle cuffs I slipped over my feet.

I was dressed.

Benson was dressed too. His uniform matched mine, except he had no neck band. The colors set off his pale skin. His erection was gone, of course. It was all about control, just like our Coaches always said.

We were ready.


America's Darlings purchase links:

Ellora's CAve -

Amazon -

Gail Bridges Online:

Twitter: @gailWBridges