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Monday, January 26, 2015

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!    


Evelise Archer said...

Veiled Dominance~
“Shane, come on man, you got to get dressed. Everyone else is ready except for you.” Edlridge unfolded Shane’s hands from the side of the sink and led him to the office sofa.
“Here, put these on.” Shane divested himself of the towel and slipped into the pale cream colored leather pants. Skin tight, with little room for the imagination.
“Yummy.” Issy’s eyes ran down his body. “Deacon is going to swallow his tongue when he sees you. Let me help you slip on the vest. And by the way, love the nipple jewelry.”
Shane buttoned up his pants, as Issy smoothed the back of his blood red-colored vest. The nipple rings were a gift to Deacon, and himself. Tabitha Myers, of Hidden Treasures, outdid herself in creating the jewelry to his specifications. Each nipple help a small loop, one sported a small diamond, the other a peridot, connected with a thin, byzantine-style chain that fell at the top of his breast bone. Just thinking about Deacon tugging on the chain hardened Shane’s dick.
“Shane, you look gorgeous. Deacon is a lucky man. And remind him every day. I do Dalton.” Edlridge pointed to the loafers by the desk and Shane slipped them on.
“Ready?” Issy asked.
“Let’s do it.” Shane glanced one last time in the mirror as he followed his friends out of the office.


Allie Kincheloe said...

Here's a snippet from my contemporary romance, Sean's Sweetheart.

The bartender came her way. Her eyes went straight to his chest and she had to crane her neck up to see his face. Towering well over six feet, his shirt stretched taut across his muscular frame. Tattoos poked out from beneath the rolled sleeves of his plaid shirt, but his broad shoulders threw shadows across his arms and kept her from making out their design.

Holy scorching hotness.

Visit my blog: for more excerpts.

Amy Quinton said...

Thanks for the opportunity to post. My regency romance, What the Duke Wants, is available today! My excerpt takes place at a regency ball in London. My heroine is observing other ladies at the ball:

The extravagances on display that evening were extreme—and it was both fascinating and nauseating to witness. It disgusted her, but neither could she look away. One particular woman wore diamond rings on every finger, in her hair, around her neck, and dangling from her ears. She even had diamonds on her fan and sewn into her dress. Grace thought she likely had them sewn into her drawers as well and chuckled to herself as she thought about how uncomfortable it must be for the woman to sit.

She had barely finished that thought when two women walked by with elaborate head pieces. One appeared to have peacock feathers in her hair, enough to rival a full-grown male, while the other appeared to have an entire garden of rare orchids draping her head. She hoped the lady was not allergic to bees.

What the Duke Wants - includes links to major retailers.

Susan Macatee said...

From Civil War holiday romance, The Christmas Ball.


Kirk retreated to his bunk at the rear of the hospital tent. He often slept there, partitioning off a space for privacy, so he'd be available if a patient needed him during the night. A few stewards were also on duty to attend any minor needs of the men while he slept.

The scent of wood smoke, drifting in from outside, helped mask the smell of disinfectants and blood. Now that the battle was over, he should have no new casualties coming in, only men who succumbed to illness.

He undressed down to his shirt and trousers, loosening his braces. He had to be presentable if he did get a summons during the night.

Laying his head on his pillow, he sighed his frustration. How had he allowed things to go that far with Miss Brewster? And furthermore, he had to stop thinking of her as Miss Brewster. She was Private George Brewster. He'd sworn to keep her secret and wouldn’t go back on his word. But every time he saw her now, her lips and sweet scent enticed him.

The other problem was, how could he protect her if she insisted on posing as a man, a soldier?

His mind drifted back over the orders he’d received this morning. He was to report to Washington D.C. next week to serve as a surgeon in a military hospital.

He rolled onto his stomach and punched a hand into his pillow. It would solve his dilemma by taking him out of reach of Miss Brewster, but now he knew she was a woman, how could he go without knowing what would become of her?

Zanna Mackenzie said...

From my novel And The Earth Moved

I get out of the car and try to look as though I’m perfectly at ease with the concept of breaking and entering a quarry in the middle of the night.
“Wow,” Charlie nods approvingly. “You really carry off the cat burglar look very well.”
“Ha ha, very funny!” I do a little twirl in my black stretch jeans, close fitting black jumper and flat black boots. I fix a brave smile on my face but inside I’m a nervous wreck. My whole body is quivering with nerves. And cold. The temperature has plummeted and I’m desperately trying to stop my teeth chattering. I stamp up and down on the spot to warm up a little and Charlie throws me a strange look.
I’m not about to admit how scared (or cold) I feel to Charlie though, who is nonchalantly pulling on a black woolly hat as though we’re out for an evening stroll with the family dog, not breaking into a quarry. He hands me an identical hat. Standard issue CCIA assignment apparel? He probably has a bag full of them.
“Put this on.”
I eye it sceptically.
“This isn’t a fashion show,” he says, seeing the way I’m looking at it. “Besides it will complete your sexy cat burglar outfit perfectly.”
I pull the hat down over my hair until the edge is only just above the top of my eyes. Briefly I wonder if his comment means he thinks my outfit is sexy or if he thinks I’m sexy.

Amazon link -

Today is the last day this book is on sale at 99c /9pp


Rosemary Gemmell said...

From Victorian novella, Mischief at Mulberry Manor by Romy Gemmell

Bringing her attention back to her maid’s ministrations, Maryanne admired the elegant hairstyle and submitted to the remainder of the necessary lacing and preening. Once tightly laced into her corset, and the hooped cage fastened at the waist, Maryanne allowed her dinner gown to settle over the petticoats and hoops and admired the effect of the rose taffeta against her skin.
At sight of the expanse of flesh across her shoulders and above her breasts, she allowed Timmy to fasten a small gold cross around her neck. A light shawl would protect her from chills. And she resolved to forget all nonsensical talk of ghosts and spirits, and hoped the evening would pass undisturbed.



Rosemary Gemmell said...

From Victorian novella, Mischief at Mulberry Manor by Romy Gemmell

Bringing her attention back to her maid’s ministrations, Maryanne admired the elegant hairstyle and submitted to the remainder of the necessary lacing and preening. Once tightly laced into her corset, and the hooped cage fastened at the waist, Maryanne allowed her dinner gown to settle over the petticoats and hoops and admired the effect of the rose taffeta against her skin.
At sight of the expanse of flesh across her shoulders and above her breasts, she allowed Timmy to fasten a small gold cross around her neck. A light shawl would protect her from chills. And she resolved to forget all nonsensical talk of ghosts and spirits, and hoped the evening would pass undisturbed.



Mellie said...

Jareth, First Lord by Mellie Miller. Fantasy Romance with a psychic twist.

Barnes & Noble…
Indie Bound…

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?

Mari Christie said...

From Royal Regard:

He needed no mirror to know his face was creased and unshaven, eyes red-rimmed, broad frame missing half its bulk, as though the flesh had followed his half-dead will to live, leaving his dirty shirt to hang off his shoulders like a ship’s flag in a ghost wind.

Of the three in the room, Firthley was the only one whose person was in any kind of order. As the functions of government hadn’t ceased without Nick’s acknowledgement of them, Firthley planned to attend The House of Lords in the afternoon, so was flawlessly attired in a day suit of dark grey broadcloth with black kid gloves, hair powdered in the fashion of the old men Firthley aligned with in Parliament.

Charlotte, by contrast, may as well have been dressed as a servant. Her faded cotton gown might have started orange or yellow, now worn to the color of hay, the print blurred and indistinct beneath a floor-length linen apron, stained and spotted with the residue of a sickbed.

To Buy:
First three chapters:

Catherine Kean said...

Here's a snippet from my award-winning medieval romance DANCE OF DESIRE.

“At last, we meet. I am honored.”

His smile threatened to break into a grin. Ah, she was clever.
As she neared, he allowed his gaze to drift over her face, to appreciate the features she had disguised last eve. To rattle the dignified, ladylike poise which surrounded her like an iron shield.

Ah, God, she was beautiful. Her hair was not black like Leila’s, but golden brown, the color of sweet clover honey which, as a boy, he had devoured by spoonfuls from the pot. Her tresses tumbled over her shoulders in an unfettered mass to brush the narrow indent of her waist. Her green silk bliaut, oddly creased with mud at the hem, skimmed her hips, then fell in folds to the floorboards. His mouth watered. He did not have to imagine the curve of her legs hidden beneath the fabric. He had already seen them. He would never forget.

She moved close enough that he saw dark smudges under her eyes. Fatigue? Worry for her traitorous brother? Fane’s eyes narrowed. Did she realize that her brother had revealed her identity last eve? Was this lovely creature an accomplice to her brother’s conspiracy?

He would know. He must know.

As she glided to a halt, she said, “I apologize for your wait, milord. I regret I was detained by an important matter.”

She had stopped several paces from him. Far enough away that she could whirl out of his reach if she so wished, yet near enough to taunt him with the perfume of violets. Another facet of their sensual game. How he loved a worthy chase.

Chuckling, he stepped from the fire’s heat. Before she could move away, he pointed to the fuzzy green burrs clinging to her sleeve. “Detained? By a meadow sprite?”

Erin OQuinn said...

From Nevada Highlander ... a visiting Scot meets his party at a small airport outside of a tiny Nevada town. This brief description is from the pov of his "party" and soon-to-be lover Alex.


A polite tap on his shoulder, a pleasant husky voice with the soft burr of an accent. “Here is Rory Drummond. Now who could be wanting him?”

He turned to see the man he’d been convinced was a conventioneer from a Houston liquor distributor. A man who seemed to tower over him, dressed in Levi’s, gawd-awful high-heel alligator boots, and a shirt with more fringes than a Roy Rogers revival.

A Scot and a cop: who's on whose tail?

Adriana said...

What do you wear at a clothing optional swing lifestyle resort? Here's a peek...

In a matter of minutes, Jen reappeared in what first appeared to be a black long evening gown. Then she turned slowly around. The left side had a slit to her waist, making it clear she was naked underneath. Brett wasn’t sure of the material, but the top was see-through. He wet his lips, watching his wife’s nipples trying to find their way out through the sheer material.
“This is for the Saturday night theme night, Black on White,” Jen announced, spinning slowly about once more. “As you can see, I am in black. Brett will wear a white sport coat and black pants.”
“You guys,” Ryan said with a trace of awe in his voice, “are going to be the talk of the ball.”
“No doubt,” Donna added. “And there won’t be any difficulty getting you out of that dress.”
“How am I going to be able to dance with you wearing that?” Brett said. “I’m going to have a boner that will embarrass both of us.”
“Not me,” Jen said, grinning broadly. “The question is, together will we attract some players?”
Epicurean Delites (Swinging Games Book 13)

Charmaine Gordon said...

Just released-Breaking New Ground, Book4 of the River's Edge Series.

James Chandler adjusted his power red tie and entered the office of the town advisory board chairman. His eyes widened to see a beautiful bronzed skin young woman with the most gorgeous hair he ever had the pleasure to gaze upon. High cheek bones, eyes so black like midnight. Model worthy, he thought.
Anna Youngblood was written on the desk plaque.
She looked up from her computer to meet his eyes. “Mr. Chandler. Right on time. Mr. O’Brien expects you.” She rose. He followed her and couldn’t stop staring at her long legs, short skirt, fringed suede boots and small sweater; the whole package of this Anna Youngblood. Keep your mind on business, he thought.



SMASHWORDS for All EReader Devices
including PC and Mac


D'Ann said...

From Cowboy Bred, Cowboy Born Cowboy Up boxed set:

From a garment bag she pulled out a pale pink slip dress. She held it against her. Bra, or not? No, she decided with a wicked grin. By the end of the evening she was going to have Sterling Gentry begging at her feet to come inside his bedroom.
Her hand, halfway to her perfume bottle, froze.
Why was she going out of her way to impress a man she didn’t want? In a few days she was moving on to her next assignment—shooting a world champion roper in Houston. Maybe it was Gentry’s arrogance that made her want to take him down a peg. Or maybe she just wanted to let off a little steam. Either way, she wasn’t getting attached.

Six authors—Six hot cowboys!
Cowboy Up

E. Ayers said...

by E. Ayers

From where Julia stood, she watched her sisters being escorted down the aisle by their stepbrothers and then she watched the little flower girls enter the sanctuary. Carrying nosegays, they were so cute in their lilac-colored taffeta dresses that had been trimmed with lots of white lace. The same lace was on their white socks and they wore ballet-like slippers that had been dyed to match their dresses. They were so thrilled to be in the wedding.

Her father stood opposite her on the other side of the doorway in the large church vestibule. He looked extra handsome in his tuxedo. /He’s giving away one daughter but in another four months, he’s gaining a baby daughter./ Suddenly she had the urge to cry.

Her father shook his head, then wagged a finger at her and whispered. “Don’t you dare. You’ll mess up your pretty face. Look up.”

She did and batted at the tears until they went away.

The music changed and she stepped forward. Her father took her arm and they slowly walked the long aisle. Time stood still. She noticed everything - the flowers that were arranged by every pew, the ones in front of the church and on every windowsill. She spotted the man video taping the wedding; the minister draped in a black robe; Collin’s partially tied shoelace, and Logan’s cowlick that was threatening to flick a lock of hair straight up. Her hands were sweating as they held the bouquet of white and purple lilacs mixed with small white carnations and baby’s breath. DeeDee stood next to Cody’s dad and smiled, while Cody’s mother wiped tears away.

Amazon buy link
Available as a Kindle Unlimited

And if you want to read about her dress which contains tiny vials of water and real flowers, you'll have to read the book. After all, her step-mom (DeeDee) is a bridal fashion designer.

Visit my blog for more.

Patricia Preston said...

From "Delivering Love Today" A Valentine's Day Short Story

The man rushed toward the van. I clutched the steering wheel and stared at him.
He was rather fine. In a weird kind of a way.
He looked as if he had just stepped off the set of the TV western, Hell on Wheels, which I watched faithfully because the main character was enticing.
Beneath a black hat, he had equally dark hair, long and uneven, chiseled features, and dark eyes. He wore a long black duster and knee-high boots. Gunslinger attire. I found myself looking at the waist of his jeans to see if he wore a gun belt. He did not. But I did notice a saddled horse tied to a fence post on the other side of the road.

It's a fun & flirty short read. Cuteness guaranteed!

Amazon link:

Veronica Scott said...

The first woman threw off her enveloping cloak and stood forth as the goddess Hathor in all her glory. Her body glowed in the dark room, even without the light cast by the golden sun disk on her headdress. Two curving, gold tipped cow horns grew from her head and her wig was adorned with gold and malachite beads. Dyed a deep red, her gown was the finest pleated linen, and around her neck she wore her menit necklace—strands of turquoise beads, from which was suspended the long pendant bearing her cartouche. Gazing at Tyema with large, almond shaped brown eyes, fringed by lush lashes, the goddess said, “It isn’t your time or the child’s to cross to the Afterlife, but things have progressed needlessly far down a bad path.” Running the strand of turquoise beads through her fingers, Hathor glanced around the room, a frown on her flawless face, as if she could see a threat in the very air. “Sobek needs to do a better job of safeguarding his temple and his priestesses from evil influences.”

“Black magic?” Merys gasped. “Directed at Tyema? Who would dare, and why?”

“Sort the issue out later,” said the third woman, throwing aside her blue veils, revealing herself to be Tawaret, the Hippopotamus, in human guise. Her dress was a one shouldered green sheath, barely containing her pendulous breasts and large belly. Barefoot, she padded awkwardly across the room, her feet the paws of a lioness. Her golden headpiece was cylindrical, offset with black tipped feather plumes, resting atop her long, straight black hair and she carried an inscribed ivory ankh. Walking to the bed with the clumsy gait of one who is far more graceful in the water, she took a stand on the other side from Hathor.


Mickie Sherwood said...

Christmas Crush

(Is a man not a man if he rolls rather than walks? Just ask Ashley.)


"Sorry for the distraction." The table legs scraped when he hurriedly pushed back in his wheelchair.

"She's one hell of a distraction." Craig paused to look at Tank. Appreciation glinted in Tank's eyes.

"No disrespect, man." Tank laughed. "You should see your face. I mean, you know what they say. Age ain't nothing but a number."

The comment posed a concern for Craig. "I'd better get back in there before I have to fight my way out."

"Knowing my crew like I do," Tank concurred , "yeah, you'd better."

Craig brought up the rear, and screeched to a halt after he crossed the threshold to the house. Ashley no longer hovered like a wallflower. Her evocative sway caused light to shimmer across the material of her eye-catching red dress. She stepped in perfect timing to the bouncy tune gyrating the airwaves. Craig noticed that her dance partner did most of the work. Obviously, he didn't seem to mind.

For once in a long, long time, Craig felt at a disadvantage. Should he make his presence known ? Or not? Ashley needed to know her own power. There wasn't a doubt she enjoyed herself. The beauty of her smile spoke volumes. Rather than spoil her fun, he wheeled to an out-of-the-way corner to wait. It took effort to keep his chair from becoming an obstruction.

When Craig looked up again, Ashley was headed his way.

"How did it go?" Her upbeat, breathy tone blended with the music.

"Had to reschedule."

"What? Why?"

"Tank said I was distracted."

"Were you?"

He had to admit the truth. "Yes."

Ashley spun in a circle, appearing to search the room. "Come with me." She grabbed his hand to start his motion. "Excuse us. May we pass, please?" She let him have his hand back. "Gangway… coming through."

Craig was able to squeeze through the mob as she bulldozed a path. "My kind of girl."

Thanks for the opportunity to share a snippet.

Mickie Sherwood
~~Sweet, and spicy romance – a heartbeat away! ~~