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Monday, March 10, 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!    


Rosemary Morris said...

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.

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.

Susan Macatee said...

Snippet from American-Victorian romance novel, Cassidy's War.

Returning home, Cassidy pulled the pin from her hat and lifted it from her head, careful not to pull her bun out of place. She set the hat on the mahogany entry table and draped her shawl over the hook by the door. Her mother strode from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.

Guilt niggled at her for lying to George, but she had to get away. His sudden appearance dredged up the hurt he’d caused her, even after five years. A pain she'd hoped never to surface again.

"Since I seem to have no patients, as usual..." She eyed her mother. "I'll do some gardening after I change into my work dress."

"That'll be fine, Cassie. With just you, me, and Matt here, I've got the baking well under control."

Cassidy bit her lip. "Thought you should know..."

Her mother turned back, a frown on her face. "Know what?"

"I saw George in town today."

"George Masters?" The frown turned into a scowl. "What's he doing here?"

"Nothing to do with me, Ma. He's here to pay respects to his father."

"Well, about time one of Amos's no-account sons showed up. If the undertaker didn't bury him, he'd still be rotting in that shack he called home."


"Just be glad that man ran off before he married you instead of after."

Cassidy sighed. "I'd rather not discuss this right now. Just wanted to warn you in case you see him in town."

She turned from her mother's raised brows and climbed the stairs to her bedroom. After changing, she gathered her sun bonnet, apron, and a spade, then trudged to the small garden bordering the front porch.

ML Skye said...


Today, I'm sharing a peek from Shyler: Finding Home, a Furlough 99 Novella from Ellipses Press, Ltd.

A little set up, Marsh is a hands on kind of guy. A big problem just landed in his lap and he's going to personally deal with it, not in a boardroom, but on location.

"What's the death toll?"
"One hundred and fifty-seven as of ten a.m. this morning."
Marshton Grey nodded curtly, accepting the information, and his chief of security quickly exited the plush office. The man had gone above and beyond by keeping Marsh informed of the situation. Now Marsh had to do damage control and nip the problem in the bud. He'd already laid the building blocks to make that happen.
Marsh stood up from behind his desk, gathered his travel documents and pressed the intercom to his admin.
"Lucy, I'm unavailable until further notice."
"Have a safe journey," her soothing voice answered. "I'll see you aren't disturbed, Mr. Grey."
Marsh trusted her to do exactly that. Super-efficient, his admin would block, handle, or delegate whatever came up while he had to be off planet. He peeled off his suit and tie, and threw on a pair of comfortable dungarees. Didn't worry about an overnight bag, he had plenty of wardrobe options located where he'd be headed.
Furlough 99.
Ass end of the universe.

I hope you enjoyed the sneak peek.

Buy Link: Amazon

Please stop by my blog for more snippets
Visit my website

Lindsay Townsend said...

A snippet from my historical romance 'Flavia's Secret' where Flavia selects new clothes at a tailor's in Roman Bath.

Marcus had been right, Flavia thought an hour later, as the tailor’s two assistants made up a parcel of clothes in a badly-dyed piece of linen. The tailor, another Gaius, had relaxed considerably once they were alone and had even thawed towards dealing with a slave. The money bag had helped, but, as the tailor explained as he handed her garments to try on behind a small curtained-off area of the shop, it was a pleasure to deal with an appreciative customer.

She chose a long-sleeved gown first, of yellow linen that made her think of sunlight. With the gown was a narrow belt, dyed in blue. Over both she cast a palla, a shawl of soft red-brown wool.

‘Excellent!’ the tailor said, when she drew back the curtain of the changing chamber. ‘But you have spent hardly any of the money he left you. Let me show you more...’

She bought under-tunics in white linen, another gown in brown and a blue fillet and horn combs for her hair. Using a comb, she re-did her plaits and was glad to cast away the rags that had clothed her feet, stepping into the enclosed sandals with cork soles that the tailor sent for from a cobbler’s: ‘A friend of mine,’ he explained. ‘He will be glad of the commission.’

‘Stroll about by my shop and I will be in your debt,’ the tailor said, brushing aside her thanks. ‘Wander out and smile. Go on!’

* * * *

Flavia walked the length of the row of shops, stopping by the potter’s to admire the red Samian ware. It was rare for her to have so much free time, an uncomfortable voice reminded her, a voice which also whispered that she would be disappointed if Marcus did not remark on her new clothes.

He was coming. She could see him striding up the street towards her, head and shoulders above the crowds. Her stomach did a strange lurch and she felt suddenly light-headed. Of course, that was because she had eaten no breakfast. It was nothing to do with the fact that Marcus was smiling at her.

Another few steps and he was there beside her, looking down at her. ‘Better,’ he said simply and Flavia smiled back at him, finding more pleasure in his soldier’s sincerity than in the tailor’s fulsome compliments.

‘Although that object spoils the effect.’ He took the clothes bundle from her, swinging it out of her reach. ‘You need your hands free for your writing,’ he reminded her. ‘You have stylus and tablets with you, I presume?’

‘Of course,’ Flavia answered, her professional pride piqued. She tapped the small bag hanging from her belt.

‘So easy for a desk worker,’ Marcus muttered. Then, as Flavia wondered how to respond, his mood seemed to lift as swiftly as it had come, his face clearing as he pointed down the street. ‘There is a tavern just past the stone mason’s,’ he said, giving a beggar a silver coin. ‘A little wine and bread before we enter the fray of the great baths will do us very well.’

* * * *
Buy Link