Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Well, spank my ass and call me Sally...

Ha! It's finally here! After a brief delay (was due out August 1st) my erotic novel Restless Spirit is finally available in PRINT here in the USA! Woohooo!

Very excited. I've been waiting forever (it feels like) for it to be here. And it's here! *happy dance*. Here's a little bit of what you'll find inside.

From Restless Spirit 
by Sommer Marsden

My hand slammed the rock wall and there was a moment where confusion made my head ache. Shepherd used a bungee cord to loop me to the brace for the overhead shelf.
‘Shepherd,’ I whispered.
My other arm was moved overhead and he took another bungee cord from the counter. When I was secure, despite some struggling, he stepped back.
Dropping onto the stool, he sized me up. ‘See, I think you took control with that baseball bat with that loser ex of yours. Even now you’re actually in control.’
I laughed. It was an angry laugh tainted by a vein of fear. ‘Oh yeah?’
‘Yeah. Say kitchen and I let you go. That’s your word.’
Kitchen. Kitchen where he’d seen me with Reed. And still he’d come to talk, apologise at the restaurant and then later in bed he gave me what I needed when I asked.
And I’d freaked and tossed him out. I hadn’t allowed myself any solace in him or him in me.
‘Say it,’ he said.
I shook my head. Instead I said, ‘I told every one of you that I wasn’t interested in–’
He held up a hand. ‘Yep, I know – a commitment. I get it. And I had no interest in one, either. Trust me. And I still wish I didn’t …’ He looked up and away. Finally those eyes settled back on me and he said ‘I wish I didn’t have these flashes of … wishing.’
I got that. I knew what he meant.
‘What do you want from me?’ I hissed. I truly did not want to have this conversation. I truly did not want to have to … face him.
‘Your trust.’
‘You have it,’ I said, shaking the cords and thusly the shelf over my head.
‘I don’t think so.’ He scratched is beard and walked to me. We were so close again I could feel the heat radiating off of him. It was in direct opposition to the cold that seemed to seep from the stone wall to my back.
‘I’m tied here aren’t I? I haven’t said … that word.’
It did not escape my notice – or his, judging by his face – that I did not say “kitchen”.
‘But last night instead of letting me see your fear – instead of explaining to me what you felt – you ran me off.’
‘Shepherd, I didn’t even know what I was feeling,’ I growled.
‘No excuse,’ he said and kissed me.
His tongue and teeth and lips bullied mine and he cut off any of the protests I might have tossed at him. I didn’t see the knife in his hand until he pulled back.
‘What’s that?’ My tongue was clumsy in my mouth and my heart raced with sickening speed. I tried to take a deep breath and failed.
‘A fork,’ he joked and winked at me. ‘Don’t’ worry. There’s no bloodletting in my home. But I owe you some new digs,’ he said.
‘New–’ But then I got it because he sliced my sweater from neck to waistband and I stood very, very still to let him do it. I was no fool. Then he cut the little piece of lace that held my bra cups together in the front.
‘And a bra,’ he said, looking up from where he knelt.
I had enough time to pray he didn’t plan to do that to my jeans too when he undid my button with his big fingers. Then the zipper hissed and he shoved the denim down to my ankles. The knife was back to ruin my pale green panties.
‘And panties,’ he breathed, pressing a hot kiss to the swatch of skin right above my mound. My belly fluttered, my pussy got more slippery still and I willed him with the power of my staggered mind to put his mouth two inches lower and make me come. Give me that rush and buzz of release.
Instead he stood and wiped his hands on his jeans. ‘I’ll be back,’ he said.
‘You … what?’ I struggled enough to make him smile. ‘That is so not funny.’
‘It’s not meant to be.’
‘I … where are you going?’ I asked, forcing myself calm. Making myself take a deep breath and hold it for a count of four before I passed out.
‘I was just about to make some lunch when you showed up. You want any?’
I looked at myself pointedly and then glared at him. ‘Sure. Naked and bound in your hobbit hole is totally a place to eat lunch.’
‘I could feed you,’ he said and to accent his words he placed one lone fingertip between my legs and pressed my clit like a button.
I gasped. Furious. Aroused. And damn it, now I realised, hungry.
‘No,’ I whispered.
‘Fine by me. But I am starved. Be back in a few. And while you’re up there, ponder this. What’s with you and Adrian? He’s a boy. What’s with you and pretty boy? You’re smarter than that. It smacks of fear and running and denial.’
‘Oh and you are the perfect man for me?’ I snapped, again staring at my bonds.
He shrugged. ‘I don’t believe in perfect. I don’t even think I buy that soul mate shit. But I do believe in connections. I do believe in energy recognising compatible energy. I don’t have a word for it,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘But I believe you can look at someone – maybe one someone in your whole life – and feel this instant …’
Zap, I thought. Lightning.
He shrugged those massive shoulders. ‘I’m doing a really bad job of explaining this, but I bet you dollars to donuts, you know what I mean.’ He pressed his lips to mine once more, pushed his finger back between my legs for one heart stopping second and then he walked up the stone steps and out into the unseen day.
‘Well, shit,’ I said to no one but me and the four walls.

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