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Monday, March 3, 2014

Wash Line Monday! #equills

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!    


Tina Donahue said...

This is from Chapter One of Stolen Desire - erotic paranormal sci-fi - March 11 - Samhain Publishing. Zekin has just rescued Paige and she's about to find out - via his clothing - the strange world she's just entered. :)

He plucked the darts from them and dropped the things into his front pocket. From a back pocket, he pulled out a square of silvery-blue material, then touched the front of his shirt.

Paige gawked as his mottled brown-and-gold clothing turned the color of the fabric he held, tightening against his powerful body, fitting him as snugly as a wet suit. Even his combat boots morphed until she could see the outline of his large feet and long toes.

She blurted, “How did you do that?”

It had to be a trick. This couldn’t be real.

He released the square of material. It drifted down in front of her, coming to rest near her feet. “Remove your clothing and step on it,” he ordered.

Huh? Hell no. She pressed her fists to her chest and edged back.

His expression didn’t change, though frustration flared in his eyes. He swung his hand to the metal door. “Do as I say, or you’ll die out there.”

She wanted to throw up. “What’s out there? Where in the hell are we?”

“If I explain now, the other guards may return. If I can’t neutralize them as I have these three, you’ll end up like the pleasure slaves you saw in the hologram or worse. Is that what you want?”

A tear slipped down her cheek. When she’d gone to Rozie’s, she’d only wanted to forget her humiliation and hurt, not end up in this nightmare world. Where could it possibly be? He spoke fluent English, so that meant he was at least familiar with her culture. Maybe he even lived in Seattle after having emigrated from overseas. What he wore must have come from a top-secret government experiment, something right out of the X-Files. Clearly, he wasn’t SWAT as she’d first thought, but probably a federal agent. Maybe the CIA.

More info:

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Susan Macatee said...

From my time travel romance, Thoroughly Modern Amanda.

"If only I could meet someone like you," he told the picture. "But you're from another world, a simpler time." He raked a hand through his hair. "Now I'm talking to photos. Go to sleep, Jack." He carefully propped the picture back on his desk and settled on the bed, reaching over to set the alarm for the morning.

He drifted to sleep with the image of the woman seated on a bench in a Victorian garden.


He glanced up into the most incredible blue eyes. Like sapphires.

"Excuse me?"

The woman shook her head, the large blue flowers atop her hat bobbing. "You promised me a tour of our house." Her full lips quirked upward.

He swallowed. This was the woman in the photo, but instead of a black and white tintype, he was gazing at a beautiful, flesh and blood woman. Her reddish-gold hair was piled up under her hat, a few loose tendrils curled past her ears. A high-necked gown draped over her legs, completely covering her toes. Seated in an outdoor gazebo, she watched him intently.

"I've been waiting so long to see it finished." She reached out a gloved hand and motioned for him to sit.

Her eyes so mesmerized him, he brushed against the gazebo pillar, nearly losing his balance. Her bright smile drew a grin from him.

K. Z. Snow said...

From FUGLY (contemporary m/m erotic romance, with a paranormal touch). In this snippet, an inept, bearish drag queen receives much-needed instruction from his performance coach.

Occasional thumps and mutters came from the dressing room and redirected Fallon’s thoughts. He checked the tune Tyler had picked for this session.

“Oh no,” he groaned under his breath.

Etta James, “Tell Mama.”

The dressing room door opened, and the World’s Ugliest Drag Queen rocked and faltered up the steps to the stage.

“Well?” Ty said. “Hit the lights.”

His vocal register was closer to Paul Robeson’s than Etta James’s. Good thing he’d be lip-syncing. Fallon hit the lights.

A blinding sparkle and gleam surrounded Ty’s beefy form. Fallon squinted against it. Tiny stars born of sequins, glitter, and bugle beads went nova every time he moved.

Fallon lifted a hand to shield his eyes. “Don’t you think that gown is a little…Vegas showgirl with relatives in a Chinese bead factory?”

“The boss likes glamour.” Ty smoothed his square hands over his platinum wig, highlighting the stitchery of fine black hair on the backs of his fingers. “Besides, I got this for a steal from a guy who’s retiring from the business. I can’t afford new gowns.”

Fallon wanted to say, Ty, for godssake, you look like a man piƱata at a birthday party for Cher. You are not cut out for this line of work.

“I’ll show you what I’ve come up with so far,” said Ty. “Then you can help me finesse it.”

“But we haven’t finished ‘finessing’ the Nina Simone song yet.”

“I worked on that at home. Now I need to get his one down.” Ty glanced at his palm.

“What’s on your hand?” Fallon asked suspiciously.

“The lyrics.”

Fallon sagged. Why on God’s green earth had this man decided to moonlight as an entertainer?

Ty was getting antsy. He wriggled. “Let’s just kick this off, okay? I’m starting to itch under here.”

There wasn’t much Fallon could do except honor Ty’s wishes. The client was king—or, in this case, some bizarre king-queen hybrid. After adjusting the level of light, Fallon checked the angle of the stationary camcorder and turned on the music.

With a series of body-wide jerks, Tyler “Bubbles” Burke began his assault on Etta James.

* * *

* Available at ARe:
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* To view all my books, go to

B.J. McCall said...

Relentless by B.J. McCall

A hellhound on the scent is relentless. Hellhound Haydn North has tracked down his prey.

Haydn North stepped into the penthouse corridor of the upscale seaside hotel. He’d tracked his quarry, a stockbroker and businessman named Tobius Taylor, to a private Caribbean island without an extradition agreement with the states. Taylor believed he was beyond the reach of the law, but Haydn was a Hellhound, and his jurisdiction didn’t stop at the border.

Taylor specialized in money management and investments, but when his Ponzi scheme had fallen apart, he’d disappeared along with millions of his clients’ cash.

Dressed in a tropical design silk shirt, linen pants and leather flip-flops, Haydn approached the door to Taylor’s room. He stuck his hand in his pocket and grasped his stun gun. Haydn planned to zap Taylor the moment the creep opened the door. His partner was sitting behind the wheel of a rented SUV parked outside the back emergency stairs, ready to take Taylor to a private plane. If all went as planned, Haydn would have his quarry stateside before dawn.

Haydn aimed the stun gun and lifted his hand to knock.

Taylor’s hotel door swung open, and the financial trader fell forward into the corridor, landing hard on his knees. His hands and arms were duct taped to his hairy chest, and he was wearing a pair of black boxer briefs.

Juli D. Revezzo said...

Murder Upon a Midnight Clear. by Juli D. Revezzo (Paranormal romantic suspense)

Helene checked herself in her rearview mirror, dragging a hand through her hair. She pinched her cheeks for good measure, and scraped her teeth across her lips. It would do in lieu of makeup.
The door opened before she reached for the buzzer, the bells on the Christmas wreath jingling from the disturbance. Sean stood before her in jeans, and a flannel shirt buttoned by only three buttons, oozing his signature sexy charm.
She cleared her throat, hoping to tamp the attraction down. He seemed anxious about something.

If you'd like to see more, it's available at Amazon: (and free TODAY ONLY).

Sarah said...

DEATHBLOW by Dana Marton (Romantic Suspense)

In a sharp tux, he looked good enough for the runway. No, not the runway. He had those wide shoulders, that easy cop walk of his, that athlete’s body. He looked good enough for a spy-thriller blockbuster. The zing she’d felt the first time they’d met was still there, which annoyed the living daylights out of her.

“Can I give you a ride home?” He had a smile that should have been on billboards. Lips that put sinful thoughts into a woman’s mind. A playful glint in his eyes that a person should simply turn away from unless heartache was her hobby.

She put on her coolest, most unaffected model expression. “I’m not going to sleep with you.” Her life was plenty complicated already.
“There’s always next season.”
“Is that some clever football expression?”
He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked her over, took his time, missing no detail of her floor-length gown, not the slit over her thigh or the neckline’s dangerously low dip. His gaze had a life of its own, leaving tingles on her skin.
A cocky smile flickered over his masculine lips. “Odd how sex is the first thing you think of when you look at me.”

ML Skye said...


Today, I'm sharing a peek from Down in Mexico, Book One of South of the Border series by my alter ego Skylin O'Thomas.


She'd disappeared without a trace for a reason and needed it to stay that way.

Flat on her back, refinishing the hull of a sadly neglected thirty-two footer, Kiernan looked through the decay to the beauty it could be again. She hummed along to some salsa music blaring from her Mp3 player and worked to remove a patch of dry rot. Maybe her sixth sense kicked in… or plain old self-preservation, but she looked sideways through the stripped-to-the-studs bottom portion of her shed to see a pair of bare feet—bare male feet—making their way along the outer drive and headed toward her.

An eerie feeling gripped her and she scooted out from under the boat, slowly and quietly, keeping those incredibly awesome legs within her sight. She stepped toward the open bay door, her gun a quick grab away, and ended up shocked speechless by what she saw.

Sort of saw. The sun glared from behind, but she had no trouble making out the bad Hawaiian shirt, unbuttoned to show a glimpse of the buff male form underneath, nor did she miss the beat up denim cargo shorts, complete with frayed hems. The hair threw her. Long and shaggy, the trade winds created a mad-scientist type look that warred with the aviator shades hiding the rest of his face.

Even with all that, she knew who had found her. Time hung, and the hand hovering close to the hidden gun quickly dropped to her side as his name hissed out on a breath. "Lars."

He took a step toward her, but stopped just short of touching her. "Hey." The grin that lit his face had her own answering back.

"Hey." Her eyes squinting, she watched him remove his shades and toss them over his shoulder.


I hope you enjoyed the sneak peek.

Buy Link: Amazon

Please stop by my blog for more snippets
Visit my website

Danita Cahill said...

Excerpt from Love at First Click, Book One in the Bellham Romance Series. Available as eBook or paperback:

“There you go,” Joel said, looking up from the newly changed tire to her face.

His voice felt like a gentle massage. And his eyes were the most riveting shade of green. Heather hadn’t noticed the color before.

Back off, girl her little voice chided. You’re feeling vulnerable. You just caught your boyfriend making out with your sister, and now a talented, successful, handsome man swoops in and rescues you when you are in jeopardy.

Jeopardy? Isn’t that a little extreme? Heather argued with her little voice. I wasn’t really in danger, I was just in distress.

That’s right, her little voice replied. A damsel in distress in a lime-green dress.

As if making up stupid rhymes wasn’t bad enough, Heather could have sworn her little voice snickered. Great. The little voice inside her head had a sense of humor – a wicked sense of humor – at her expense.

Marie Lavender said...

From LEATHER AND LACE, a romantic suspense novel.

Impressions were everything in this business. And if she saw someone professional, she was more likely to be relaxed, which would also make her more willing to trust him.
He went to answer the door. When he opened it, he smiled. Her hair was wild and tousled in a sexy way, and she wore a fitted black dress with simple black heels. Her full lips were pouty and smeared with a fine sheen of plum-colored gloss. A strange flutter started in his chest as he took her in. If the circumstances of their meeting weren’t so clandestine, he might be able to convince himself it was a date.
“Please come in,” he said with a gesture.
“Thank you.”
She swept past him and that fruity fragrance of hers began to drive him crazy.
“Are you hungry? I have some pasta carbonara left if you want some.”
“No. Thank you. That is very kind of you to offer.”
He blinked. Her voice was soft tonight with none of the defensive edges it had had the night before. She seemed almost shy and very polite. Who was this woman?
Patrick cleared his throat. “It’s good to see you again, Angie.”
“Thank you.” She glanced away and a blush came over her cheekbones.
He instantly found her charming, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it was an act. He imagined there were men who liked their women shy or submissive. For himself, he just wanted a woman to act like herself, not play a part.
“Shall we?” he asked, secretly hoping she would decide not to dance for him tonight. Instead, he wanted to dance with her, hold her close while some jazz song played softly in the background. The odd, romantic thought unnerved him.
“Yes, of course.”

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.

Savanna Kougar said...

His Claimed Bride, Happy New Year On Another Earth

A Flash-Scene Erotic Romance Novel


Chapter One:
Sylva and Zeke


Sylva stroked on the red lipstick carefully. The shade was deep scarlet and it looked like a swathe of gleaming velvet on her lips. "Who needs collagen injections?" she murmured, then surveyed her festively made-up face. Dusky twilight purple shadowed her eyes, highlighting the blue-green color. A shimmer of pale gold brought out her high cheekbones – a magical contrast to the glistening pink-gold powder covering her face, her neck, and artfully ending at her propped-up cleavage – displayed by a heart-shaped tight bodice of midnight satin. "Mirror, mirror, on my bathroom wall, who's the New Years Party fairest of them all?"


Zeke flashed a cocky half-grin at his appearance in the mirror his mother had given him decades ago. The white-gold scroll work framing the tall oval mirror contrasted sharply with his tan leather vest and matching pants – both designed for riding his horse into town, and as evening wear for the new year's celebration. His cream-colored silk shirt clung to the muscles of his chest, won by hard work on his family's ranch empire. And won by the fistfights he was famous for ending, but never beginning. Tonight, by long-standing tradition, he could claim any available woman as his bride.


Sylva flipped a smile at her reflection. Stepping back to see herself more fully, she thrust her hip, accentuating the sassiness of her short satin and tule-layered skirt. "Adorably sexy," she complimented herself. Okay, her thighs were full unlike the stick figure models that had successfully invaded the fashion world. Her calves were shapely, what used to be considered starlet-sexy ... especially since she wore spectacular, ankle-strap black heels, along with a pair of old-fashioned seamed hose. Tonight, she would strut her stuff with the best of them. Tomorrow, no more job. She was one more victim of the current economy.


[Contemporary Wild West Paranormal Adventure]

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