Please join me in welcoming "out of this world" romance author, Ava Cuvay to the LAM Blog! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hi! Thanks for letting me come chat about the importance of attire in my upcoming book Love and the Corps. My character’s choice of clothing in this book, and in specific scenes, was particularly fun to write because it helped to complement/contradict my characters.
My heroine, Captain Jo Behsue of the Corps, has a large scar across her face and a strong, sturdy body (thick in all the right places). Rumor has is she is 90% dude, and she has never bothered to prove the rumors wrong. Because she is career military, her clothing choices center around her Corps-issue, boxy, sexless uniforms. She finds the prospect of having to wear a delicate satin evening gown more terrifying than being inserted in the middle of battle with only her fists as weapons. While her uniforms intrigue my hero—is she a plentiful handful or a sweet little mouthful? —the sight of her womanly charms beautifully displayed in a gown sets his passion aflame.
By contrast to his love interest, Lux Krotah of the Klorakian mercenary army—like all his kind—is tall, lithe, and silver, with a beauty nearly effeminate in nature (except for his muscles!). Where the Corps is a blunt, brute-force type of military operation, their girly Klorakian counterparts embody grace in all things, from their physical features to their combat tactics to their architecture and clothing. So, while Jo must wear a gown to the royal ball, the Klorakian ceremonial formal dress is… a skirt. A kilt of iridescent scarves covering just enough of Lux to make Jo’s mouth water.
In Love and the Corps, I enjoyed dressing my characters to contradict stereotype, while trying to keep them sexy in the eyes of the one person who matters: Their Happily-Ever-After. At the very least, I get to have an alien character dressed in a sexy kilt!
Love and the Corps Snippet
Two harried hours later, Jo eased her way through the palace corridors. The quiet halls echoed the soft patter of her sandals—dainty, strappy sandals which were the epitome of femininity, but at least their heels were flat. Her steps were careful, cautious. She attempted a slow, gliding gate, unnerved by how her unsupported breasts swayed and jostled within the bodice of her dress. If she was overly cavalier with her movements, her breasts might escape their delicate confines.
Only one layer of luxurious satin rested between her naked body and disaster.
K’Ahla and the servant girls had transformed Captain Jo Behsue of the Corps into a creature she did not recognize. They had crafted a flowing, watery gown from satin sheets purchased but never used by the former dictator—Jo appreciated the subtle insult to his failed legacy—and swept her thick hair upon her head in a simple chignon she could never replicate. They applied enough make-up for her eyes and her lips to catapult off her face and diva-slap her scar until it faded to obscurity. Jo had stared at her reflection, wondering who the lovely woman was on its surface. Tendrils of dark hair curled at her nape and temple. The dress revealed enough of her olive skin to tempt without putting her on vulgar display. The bodice fell gracefully from one shoulder, over her full breasts, and cinched at her waist. The skirt cascaded to the floor and, as she walked, the hem fluttered like her own ethereal cloud of blue. With each step, the side slits allowed a long, muscular leg to peek through before ducking shyly behind the folds of the fabric.
Jo had to admit K’Ahla and the other women had accomplished the impossible. She was beautiful.
As she made her way to Lux’s room, eager to see his reaction to her transformation, she tried not to ruin their miracle with unnecessary movement. She was accustomed to clomping around in fatigues and boots, giving no regard to how her hair looked or how she moved her body. One wrong turn or a carelessly placed foot could ruin all their hard work.
She turned the corner and saw his door was ajar. Her heart hammered in her chest, her inner soldier immediately at arms. Had someone entered and killed him? Had the despot brother achieved revenge without raising a single alarm? She tiptoed through the opening, her hand at her thigh where her knife was strapped. Even for such a formal occasion as tonight’s ceremony, she was not about to go completely unarmed. Though what she saw next did a damn good job of it.
Lux was alone. And alive. And naked but for a skirt of wispy scarves held low on his waist by an intricate, gem-studded silver belt. A wide collar of matching gems glittered at his neck. What was left was a long, wide expanse of smooth, silvery skin filled to rippling with sleek muscles. Muscles she’d explored with her hands several times. Muscles which could kill in a flash, yet had made her body sing so divinely. Her mouth watered and her body heated. She’d never seen a man in a skirt before, and knew many planets where such a sight was a death wish. Had anyone asked her opinion before this moment, she would have assumed the clothing choice would render the man effeminate.
The vision before her was anything but.
Lux was all man, and one hundred percent sexy. Like Klorakian architecture, he was a perfect meld of power and elegance, fluid grace and fierce strength. He leaned back against the wall, an arm slung casually over his head, the other resting on the exposed thigh of a leg propped against the wall at his back for support. The pose was both relaxed and seductive, an upright version of how he might look in bed after lovemaking. What would it be like to kneel before him, part the scarves like a curtain, and take him into her mouth?
Fire burst in her nerve endings at the thought.
Ava Cuvay writes out of this world romance featuring sassy heroines, often-alien-but-always-sexy heroes, and an alcoholic beverage or two... Set in a galaxy far, far away. Think "Star Wars" meets "Firefly", without Jar-Jar Binks, and with a lot more heat.
She resides in central Indiana with a hubby who makes her laugh and kiddos who are growing up way too quickly. She enjoys the world of wine and spirits, amusement park thrill rides, and laughing at her own foibles (yeah, she laughs a lot).
She believes life is too short to surround yourself with negative people, and Han Solo shot first. When not writing, Ava is thinking about writing. Or wine. And she’s always thinking about bacon.
Look for “Love and the Corps” Book two of The Heart Nebula Series. To be published by the end of the month!