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Monday, September 21, 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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Dressing our Characters. Exquisite Quills' Wash Line Monday!   


Peggy Jaeger said...

by Peggy Jaeger

Seamus’s oldest son nodded to her as he stood against the exam room wall, his hands in his pants pockets.

“Pat.” Clarissa prayed her fair skin wouldn’t give away the heated flush being in the same room with him caused to well up from inside her.

A tailored shirt, the color of a cloudless summer sky, draped over his wide and substantial torso, the cuffs folded back to reveal thick and corded forearms. His trim waist tapered down into a pair of dark blue Dockers, which fit him as if they’d been sewn for him, his muscular thighs pulling against the fabric enticingly. Thick black hair capped his head, badly in need of a trim, and for a hot second, Clarissa wondered what it would feel like to twine her fingers into it.


Sophia Ryan said...


She slid her hands down his arm to his cuff and unbuttoned it, then the other one, and removed his shirt, letting it drop next to her dress. The whole time, her eyes were half open and shining, her wet full lips curved into a soft, satisfied smile, pleasure flushing her cheeks. That look told him how much she enjoyed him.

He gave her pleasure, that much was clear, but was it enough to fill the place in her heart she’d saved for a baby? Was it enough to keep her with him for a lifetime?

He stepped out of his shoes and socks, pants and boxers, then picked her up, carried her into the bedroom, and laid her in bed. He lay beside her, his hand caressing her face.

He loved this woman. The very sight of her, the smell of her, the feel of her soft skin sent a strong thrust of desire and possession plowing through him. He didn’t want to let her go. Ever. He would show her so much love she’d never want to give him up, even to have a baby with another man.

“I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you, Dani Parker,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving hers. “I need you in my life.”

She closed her eyes and turned her head to kiss the palm caressing her cheek. “I’m here, Matt. I’m with you.”

Yes. But how much? And for how long? “Move to Dallas with me.” His heart ached at seeing the panic roaring through her. “It can’t be a surprise that I’d ask you.”

“No, it’s not.”

“What’s stopping you from saying yes?”

“A move like that will change my entire life.”

“I can’t stay here. My work, my life is in Dallas.”

“Mine’s here.”

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“I don’t want to lose you, either.”

Wild Rose Press
Other Sophia Ryan Books

Erin OQuinn said...

This passage is more about what my MC is *not* wearing ... From BURNS TOO DEEP, about a mysterious Scot and this man, a Police Scotland detective:
He turned quickly to the door and braced himself for the cold. Sure enough, a chill wind slapped his face, almost a reprimand. What the fuck am I doing?

He answered himself. Why the bloody hell not?

Standing at the boot of the Focus, he cradled his holster and the Glock together, pushed them to the back, and set his cap on top. He preferred to avoid using a gun, but the presence of the firearm was a testament to the dangerous job he’d just concluded. He’d brought a few changes of clothes, knowing he might have to bunk out overnight on a bench in the Montrose Tayside Station. He rustled around in a small traveler’s bag and pulled out a heavy cotton shirt, then a pair of corduroy pants and a hoodie.

Cradling the clothes under one arm, he entered the roadside inn and went to the gents’ privy. In a few minutes, he became an average guy again, a look much more to his own liking. He carried the Police Scotland uniform out to the car and deposited it on the back seat, smoothing it in a lame attempt to keep it from looking slept-in. Thomas was no fashionista, but he was fastidious about appearance. Wrinkles and sweat stains, in his studied opinion, were the mark of a man who didn’t care about himself.

He’d also removed his jockey shorts for some damned reason—probably because he could feel them bunching his balls, invading his crack. He pushed them under the uniform.

Stripping away my last defense. Bloody hell, what am I doing?

But it felt almost sensual, jamming the jockey shorts out of sight. He hadn’t dropped his drawers for … hell, almost a year. Ever since David had stopped finding him “yummy” and had invented an excuse to transfer to the Glasgow division.
Find this #gay #fantasy #novella here:

Paty Jager said...

Tarnished Remains: A Shandra Higheagle Mystery
Paty Jager

Lil was dressed in a large, purple and black plaid shirt over her usual nearly thread-bare jeans. Her white hair stuck out from her head like an explosion of stalactites. Without her cowboy hat, Lil looked like a woman wearing a spiked white helmet.

Windtree Press:

Livia Quinn said...

From Destiny Paramortals, book2, Cry Me a River. Destiny's 'favorite' gossip columnist/psychic...

Across the room, dressed in the gaudiest multicolored outfit I’d ever seen, was Jane. “That getup came straight out of the circus.”
In front of a backdrop of glittering stars, crescent moons and happy suns was Jane, two hundred and thirty pounds squished into a five-foot frame. Jane’s dark hair was covered in a purple velvet and gold paisley turban with a green stone pasted in the center of her forehead. She’d used eyeliner from her bottom lids nearly to her eyebrows making her eyes appear to be empty black holes. Her caftan was cheap purple taffeta and Jane had pulled the crisscrossed ties until the fleshy mounds of her chest threatened to tear the fabric. She had honed her craft, and was armed with all of her standard psychic paraphernalia—oversized tarot cards, a tray of candles, a green “gazing ball” identical to one I’d seen in the garden section at Wal-Mart.
Her throat, ears and fingers were adorned with so much jewelry it was a wonder she could sit upright. Besides her name, two other obvious “tells” spoke of her charlatan status, the most visible, the line of mismatched fan bulbs encircling the poster of sun, moon and stars on the panel behind her. Most telling, the tiny red flame flickering from within the gazing ball, in the silhouette of a Christmas candle, complete with an electric cord that ran from the ball to the wall.
Yeah. Very mystical.
I looked down at the nameplate in front of Jane. “Look.” I pointed to the table label. Montana snickered.
Jane’s hand-printed card read: Have your Fortune told by a real Psycho.

Rosemary Gemmell said...

From British Regency novel, Dangerous Deceit by Romy Gemmell

Lydia stared in the mirror at the surprisingly elegant figure she made. The taffeta was of palest green, simple yet fashionable, with short puffed sleeves, a low rounded neckline and a graceful skirt that fell from a high waist. Lydia admired the shade she had chosen with the help of her mother’s dressmaker. It was a welcome change from the colourless gowns of the past two years when she’d just come out, and she saw how the auburn lights in her thick dark hair now seemed more noticeable.

She laughed as she saw Agnes’s admiring look, and was quite determined not to give in to such vanity. She was fond of this girl who had entered their home as a nervous young seamstress and had progressed to Lydia’s personal maid. Her blunt country ways suited Lydia’s temperament and she would now trust Agnes with her life.

Smoothing on her long silk gloves, Lydia hung her velvet reticule from her wrist and arranged the silken shawl across her shoulders. She was ready to face the mêlée at this latest of the season’s balls. As she descended the wide, sweeping staircase, she felt unaccustomedly shy and blamed her brother for asking Lord Sheldon to accompany her to the ball. It was enough that he was going at all. He most probably had made his own plans to travel there and now he was forced into taking her in the carriage while James went on ahead in his haste to see Elizabeth.


Savanna Kougar said...

HER MIDNIGHT STARDUST COWBOYS, a ShapeShifter Seductions Presents Novel

"This is the one." Sherilyn hardly recognized her giddy voice. "It looks like I'm covered in flakes of diamond...the parts of me that are covered."

"Just like stardust on that beautiful body of yours, sweetheart."

Zance's tone felt like a wicked caress on her skin. Sherilyn glanced over her shoulder, seeing both lust and admiration in his eyes.

What woman could ever resist that look from a man?

Feeling like a forties era movie star, Sherilyn stared at her reflection in the tall panel of mirrors that surrounded her like a horseshoe.

The gown's decolletage displayed her bosom enticingly. Her naked back was framed to perfection by the drape of silvery platinum fabric.

Having posed in gowns for photographers once upon a time, Sherilyn was used to analyzing her appearance. Now she simply enjoyed herself, thrilled by how the gown slid and glittered over her curves as she turned back and forth.

She whirled toward Zance, the elegant swishing of the long gown music to her ears. It had been so long since she'd worn anything this glamorous.


Blurb-Excerpts-Link: ~



Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Christie Adams said...

From "The Velvet Ribbon" (Club Aegis 1)
by Christie Adams

She had no idea that Alex was watching her keenly from under his hand – and even if she had been aware, there was no way she would have guessed that her graceful movements were sending all sorts of decadent, lustful thoughts through his mind. He wondered how she’d react to the impact those thoughts had on his body.

Today she was wearing a smartly tailored black skirt, teamed with a silk blouse in dove grey, the ever-present black, sheer, fully fashioned hosiery with a Cuban heel – and today’s fuck-me shoes were in iridescent peacock blue, with a narrow ankle strap that was attached to the shoe at the back of her heel. Four-inch heels on the shoes, of course. When she reached to hang his jacket in the closet, her almost-balletic grace threatened to give him a hard-on that would last the rest of the week.

Buy link: - The Velvet Ribbon (Club Aegis 1)

Website: Christie Adams - Author