Tuesday, February 28, 2012

How this whole week is making me feel in general...


You've had those weeks, yeah? Behold the power of the frog.

Maybe if I go make another cup of coffee, I will feel better. Thanks to those of you who have sent me well wishes for my surgery. And Dakota Rebel sent me a kick ass 'recovery kit'. Cookies and socks. What is not to love?? Last night reminded me why I really need to have this done. Four attacks between 5.30-11.30. Busy night! Despite all that pain, I am still nervous as fuck to have it done.

I'm really going to need those cookies when it's over. And wine. Whenever I am cleared for wine I want a vat. :)

XOXO
Sommer

Monday, February 27, 2012

I'm the...

Old book bindings

Interview at Booked Up and a giveaway, too. They are not giving me away, but a shiny advanced release ebook (print is out in April) of RESTLESS SPIRIT. Yay! Happy Monday!

I just found out my surgery is Friday. They asked me lots of scary questions. And yet I am chipper and using these ~~~> !!!! I believe this is called denial. Or a psychotic break. Tomato/Toe-maH-toe :/

Go read, go enter, go wine! Oops. That's a typo, but I'm leaving it. I meant go win :)

XOXO
Sommer

Sunday, February 26, 2012

I feel like...

Baking powder advertisement 1885

Baking today. But I don't know what. Decisions, decisions.

I'm also flitting about editing, tweaking, tidying, etc. But at a snail's pace. I've also gabbed with a bunch of family. So ya know...today should be filed under "Pot Pourri" (for $200, Alex).

Happy Sunday :)

XOXO
Sommer

Saturday, February 25, 2012

Hey, Automagically does another magic trick! and Bleh, not another one!


Earning a 5 star, Blue Ribbon Review at Romance Junkies. Woo and hoo! And abracadabra too! Here's a snippet of Automagically:

“You need to make Caleb Mahoney fall in love with you.”

“Why the fuck would I do that?” Evie asked. She tugged her own shocking purple hair and enunciated. “I. Am. Done. With. Men.”

“No you’re not. You’re pissed at men, right now,” Lanie said. She was the only one drinking a cold drink. That was Lanie. Rule breaker, heartbreaker, and if you made her do the dishes, plate breaker.

“I am not pissed. I’m livid. I’m angry. Mortified, horrified, sanctified. Wait. That’s not right. Anyway, I’m a whole slew of –fieds and I am done with them. All.”

“Look at him,” Annie sighed, falling under Lanie’s evil spell of hot-men-itis. “He is so…” She waved her hands around and squinted. “Large,” she finished.

Evie waved her own hands around, mocking her hunk-struck sister. “He might not be large where it matters. It could be like a short stack of nickels for you all you know,” she said.

Lanie almost spat out her soda and she clamped a hand over her mouth. “Bite your tongue.”

“I’m just saying,” Evie said and shrugged. Problem was, when she looked up, their giggling had drawn the attention of the big, studly, handsome, kind and now-smiling wall of man known as Caleb.

She tried not to smile back. Failed.

Annie stared hard and cocked her head at him. But his eyes stayed on Evie. “He’s so not small down yonder,” Annie said softly as if dazed. And she was supposed to be the shy one!

Evie gave up and put her head down on the table. She could just wait here to die. That would work.

Lanie tapped her on the shoulder and snickered.

“What?” Evie growled.

“He’s still looking at you. He thinks you’re cute. Even though your hair is the color of a crayon.”

“Just the front,” Evie said.

“Whatever. Come on. Make him fall in love with you.”

“Why?” Evie raised her head and stared at her little sister. The girl was nuts. But she was also fun, clever and a talented witch.

Lanie shrugged. “Because you can. Spell him. Make him love you, toy with him, ditch him. Then you can be super-kind and we’ll all get together, make sangria and do a forgetful spell. He won’t remember any of the pain of heartbreak the way you do.”

“Why don’t you just skip all those steps and do the forgetful spell on me?” Evie asked.

Lanie shrugged. “Won’t take, probably. You being a witch and all. It’s harder to fool your brain than his.”

“I don’t want to hurt Caleb. No matter how much I say I hate all men. Caleb is a decent guy. We’ve had Sudoku wars for god’s sake. And once played I Spy in a rain storm because no one was here but us and it was pouring down rain. So…”

“See,” Annie piped in. You’re not so down on men after all.”

“Shut up, Annie,” Evie said.

Lanie touched her sister’s arm. “You need to work through this. If you punish Gil by proxy, so to speak, you might heal faster. It has to hurt, Eves. I mean, you were picking out wedding dresses and shit.”

It did hurt. She had been picking out a dress. She had a gorgeous ring—that she threw at him when he left—and they were to go to the Virgin Islands for their honeymoon. It had all gone down the drain because of a twenty-year-old baby-sitter, his poor judgment and the fact that he thought with his pecker.

“Of course it hurts,” Evie said, swallowing hard. She was okay with the pain and the anger. But the sadness that crept in when she stopped being pissed for even an instant was overwhelming. She loathed it. It felt too much like weakness.

“So blow off some steam. Caleb’s a big boy. He’d probably enjoy the boffing and the fun and then we’ll make sure he doesn’t feel the pain part.”

“Like you are,” Annie said quickly, rubbing Evie’s back in small circles.

That small kindness set her off and she put her head down so no one, not her sisters and especially not Caleb, would see her tear up.

When Evie finally raised her face to the table she said, “No. No way, no how. It’s unethical and the Universe will totally bite me on the ass for it. I will pay for it in the long run.”

“Not if we don’t do any long-lasting damage. Not if we don’t cause harm. And since we will fix him so he feels no pain, there is no harm,” Lanie said as if it was the most fucking logical thing in the world.

“No. It’s wrong,” Evie repeated.

Caleb walked up and topped her off with hot coffee. “On the house. You look like you could use a pick me up, Evie,” he said, giving the other two only the briefest of nods.

He smiled and Evie felt something warm come to life in her chest, her gut and yes…her pants. She shook her head and managed a weak, “Thanks, Caleb.”

“Let me know if you need anything,” he said before he turned and walked away. A huge man who was somehow light on his feet like a cat burglar.

“Seriously?” Annie sighed.

“Oh, Evie, you’ll barely have to spell him at all,” Lanie laughed. “It’ll be like shooting fish in a barrel.”

“Hush.”

“Word travels fast. He knows you’re single and he knows what he wants when he sees it.”

“Hush,” Evie said again, but somewhere in her brain, her muddled mind was turning over the idea. What could it hurt, right? A little fun, a little fucking, no strings, a bit of magic and a clean slate when all was said and done.

It could work.

In other news, Smashwords is falling under PP's sword at the moment too. I do have to say how much I appreciate Mark Coker's long and in depth letter regarding the debacle and the standard response of "Then get a new provider". It is easy to say, much harder to do. However, I said this morning on Twitter and I'll say it again, somewhere out there is a financial mind with the chops to 'build a better mousetrap" as far as building a rival to PP. Nothing breeds invention faster than discontent. And a whoooooole lot of folks are suffering some mad discontent right now over what's going down and the Big Brother attitude of some online financial providers (or demigods??). So, I think we'll be seeing some changes in the near future in the form of serious competition.

I could be wrong, but damn, I hope I'm not. I hate people telling me what to do. Unless there's a paddle and an orgasm involved.

XOXO
Sommer

Friday, February 24, 2012

Happy 16th

Francesco Hayez 008

to me and the man. It's kind of balmy and rainy today, but 16 years ago when we got hitched it was cold as balls and windy as hell. And I was 24. Seems like a million years ago...and just yesterday.

Here's to 16, 18, 50 more.

XOXO
Sommer

Thursday, February 23, 2012

How I became a dirty writer and why I have the right to continue...



I was about thirty-two when I fell ass backwards into writing erotica. I was researching for a mystery and found, by accident, (for real!) an erotica site. I'm nosy. I read the story. And I thought. I wonder if...The rest is history. So that means next month I will have been an erotica writer for 8 years. For five of those years a prolific one who earned enough to help my family financially.

There was a building up time. Lots of diligent writing for very low pay. Until I got my name out there. I paid my dues. But above all, I love what I do, so I worked hard. Damned hard.

I won't get into the line between pornography and erotica. I believe if you are a smart person who's paying attention and reading the right things, *you* know the difference. I don't have to give you a bulleted list between fly-by-night, bang-it-out-to-see-what-I-can-earn works and the ones that some very well respected authors (established and newbies alike) put an enormous amount of effort and self into.

Yes, I said self. I put myself into my work. I put my own personal kinks into what I write. My own emotions. My own humor. And my own special brand of damaged fuckedupedness. Yes, I know that last one is not a real word, but I am a writer and it's a word I have used for my own amusement for a very long time.

I have received emails from couples whose sex lives have taken off because of my writing (so they report), or thanks to the collection of works I've been lucky enough to appear in with other great writers. My own sex life went from already awesome to please wear goggles and a helmet for your safety when I started writing.

I have been lucky enough to hear from readers and writers over my most emotional work (probably MY ENDING in my opinion) to my dirtiest, kinkiest ([yet still emotional, ironically] LEARNING TO DROWN).

I cherish every reader letter, every review, every compliment I have been given from the likes of Violet Blue and Alison Tyler to Mary from Idaho and John from Kansas. And I mean that.

Beyond the honor I feel at putting out healthy, fun and sex positive works--and getting to rub elbows with others who write that way--is the love of what I do. Laying words down on paper, building worlds, letting my characters speak to me about what gets them off, what crushes their spirits and what makes them feel alive. I. Fucking. Love. It.

It is not all real...and it is not all fiction. What it is is my job and my passion and yes, friends and neighbors, my right. I have the right to pen my smut. I have the right to publish it. I have the right to wax poetic about spanking and lust and even the dreaded 'psuedo incest' should I choose to. "Pseudo incest" is not illegal. In fact, if you have ever watched a soap opera..raise your hand.

If memory serves from my high school years, many a soap opera has involved taboo and illicit love that have carried plots for weeks, months...*years*. Illicit as in someone falling in love with their step father, brother-in-law, adopted brother (known or otherwise), or some other someone who was supposed to be off limits, blah blah, blah. I recall a few of these taboo love stories from my youth. I also recall all the women in the neighborhoods (grandmothers, aunts, and lord even the men) having spirited, shocked but yes, giddy conversations about how that tramp so and so was trying to woo her mother's husband.

How about Flowers in the Attic (and the sequels, mind you)? Have you read it? Hell, not only did every girl in my sophomore year of (Catholic Girls') high school read it, we had the pages dog eared and pen marks to help folks find the good parts.

Because it was fun and WRONG and titillating and shocking and...good. It was also not (and yes, we realized it!) real. It was fiction. And that book, in case you missed the memo, contains brother and sister incest. Real. Not pseudo. I bet you could find that book anywhere you wanted to right now. Right this moment. I betcha.

Now Paypal is saying no to things that are not illegal. And the trickle down is wending its way through all the small ebook retailers and who knows...might get to the big guns too. Bookstrand has taken a hit and rolled with it. ARe is in the process of reorganizing. One of my own publishers has been put on alert.

I can see the incest thing. I can see that, and I can honor it. Incest in many states (it used to be most but I'm not so sure now) is illegal. Pseudo incest is not. It is two non-blood relations having sex. That's it. Nothing more. Nothing less.

BDSM is also on some of the hit lists I have seen. BDSM when practiced safely is a perfectly healthy expression of sexuality. It is, in fact, in many cases a wonderful symbiosis and a gorgeous thing if the people involved care for one another and build their sexual world in conjunction with each other.

Non-consensual anything is wrong. Fine. Great. Cut it. So that's two points on which I concur: real incest and non-consent. However...that's not where the line was drawn. It was just "BDSM".

It's staggering to me that they'd possibly come after BDSM between consenting adults. For some people a spanking is as effective as candlelight and wine is to another. It's all how you're wired. And I'm allowed to be wired how I'm wired. And yes, you are allowed to be wired how you are. If you want candlelight and cuddles, I will applaud your choice and wish you well (and I will mean it). But please don't tell me or my characters that they can't be tied up or spanked because it offends you.

So there will be people who will say, "But you are a kinky person. A dirty girl. You like *that stuff*."

Um. Not really. Not *always*. I'll tell you a secret. I have written detailed stories about fetishes that do zero for me. I don't, personally, *get* them. In fact, writing about them as if I embrace them for myself is how I try to *get* them. It's my way of understanding things I don't understand. So to answer that age old question "have you done everything you've written about?" AND blow that argument out of the water right now: No. I have not done it all. I do not understand it all. But I do believe in your right to have whatever gets you off. As long as it's not hurting anyone.

What's going on right now in our little erotic sphere is people saying: I don't like that. And because I don't like that, I am cutting you off at the knees. I am severing my service because I don't appreciate your sexual preferences.

Which to me sounds very much like discrimination. I said to the man, rather tongue in cheek, but it's not far off base at this point, it's like a financial service company (we'll call it that to be all clinical and shit): "We're Christian you may not use our services to purchase that statue of Buddha. "

Um...?

My long and rambling and trying-to-stay-calm point is this. Erotica, in the right hands, is amazing literature that can make you feel a range of emotions. Not just horny. It can amplify your sex life or even give it the paddles if it's suffered an untimely death.

But beyond all that flowerly fluff, it is legal. And we are now entering into terrain where people are trying to severely limit and hobble things that are not against the law, just...'unseemly' to some. So what's next? No bodice rippers? No sex in regular fiction? Ever read Lisey's Story by Stephen King? If I am remembering correctly, there is some kinky ass not always nice sex in there. How about the gruesome murders and torture various other nauseating and horrifying things that happen in other genres of fiction...is that not unseemly to some? So when are they coming for that stuff?

See, you might be saying "Bah! Erotica! I don't read it. Or write it. So what?"

Well, when they're done with erotica, what's going to come next? That's the real question. There's always a next if something is successful. Because when you don't stand up from the get-go the message is: it's okay.

So is it? Is it okay?



~~~
Author's Note (later that same day...)

"You don't have pseudo incest titles." I've heard that several times since posting. And if my failing memory serves, there are no psuedo incest titles for Sommer Marsden, you are right. But there are BDSM titles. And to me it's all one big fat ball of wax. It's all important. It's just the PI titles are getting more heat, so I focused on them and BDSM. I don't have to write certain things for this to impact me. It all impacts me.

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Yay!

Link

Very pleased to say I'm a part of these new collections that are part of Harper Collins new Mischief line. Right now I'm in At Your Mercy and Exposure. Both found HERE. And I was so super excited to see the snippet for At Your Mercy is my story Claws. Possibly my favorite story so far this year.

There are more collections to come and good news and all kinds of awesomeness like Justine Elyot and Charlotte Stein being over there too. Woo and hoo. :)

That's your hump day update...humpdate?

XOXO
Sommer

Monday, February 20, 2012

From the naughty mind of one of my favorite writers...


Welcome to Justine Elyot. So glad to have her here in my lair. I mean...*ahem* blog.

And away we go...

XOXO
Sommer

~~~~

Anti-Heroic

It's brilliant to be here with one of my all-time favourite eroticists, the gorgeous Sommer! Thank you very much, Sommer, for having me. I'll try to keep the place tidy for you.

Heroes are one thing. Granite jaws, barrel chests, a good heart and a cool head are all very well. Clothe it in cowboy duds or a military uniform and I might want to give it a a whirl. But I'm not really a hero-worshipper.

For me, it's always been about the anti-hero. (Villains too, but that's another subject.) A man with tragic flaws, steeped in angst, but too complex for flat-out badness – that's a man I want to read about. Especially if he wears a lot of black.

The character of John Stone in my Carina Press novel Under His Influence is nobody's definition of a hero. In fact, for most of the book, he comes across as a very bad man indeed. But he has some obscure motivations behind his behaviour, motivations that don't become clear until my female characters, Anna and Mimi, are caught in his web. I don't expect him to be everyone's cup of tea, but he's certainly mine (Earl Grey, if you're asking.)

Here he is at work:

She touched her finger to his lips. He kissed it.

"I said yes," she repeated, that word of affirmation giving him permission for everything and anything.

"Right," he said, and there was a world of purpose behind him now. He stood, helping Anna up and led her, hand closed around her wrist, out of the room and towards the staircase.

"Your room." The bed was enormous, but the even bigger room contained almost nothing else – just dark wood furnishings so anonymous that they would fit well in any hotel. Had he cleared out all traces of Saskia, she wondered? But she dismissed the idea. Saskia was not going to hang over the bed and watch them make love for the first time. Saskia did not live here any more.

"My room," he smiled, throwing off his jacket and spinning Anna into him in that dancer’s hold he had first tried out on the shores of the lake. "Your room," he said, his voice low. "If you want it to be."

Anna was blinking, wondering if the implication of his words was as enormous as it seemed when he dashed the breath from her mouth with another kiss. ​Her lips were starting to sting now; John needed a shave and he was not one for light kissing – these were devouring, ravishing, hungry kisses, swallowing her up inside them until the burn of his stubble faded into irrelevance beside the answering burn at the pit of her stomach.

"I want to undress you," he said, and Anna supposed that in theory she could have objected, but something told her that his wishes were not negotiable, not when his eyes looked like that. She leaned back against his forearm and tried to keep her breathing steady while he unbuttoned the white cotton work blouse, following his deft fingers with a kiss at each newly revealed part of her – dropping his lips on her throat, her collarbone, the hollow of her breasts between her bra cups, finally exposing her belly and sliding a hand around her hip, stepping back, drinking her in.

"God, Anna," he said, then he was kissing her neck, shoulders, face, while a hand kneaded the lace covered mounds of her breasts, finding and circling the nipples with deadly accuracy. His fingers found the zipper of her short light-tweed skirt and soon it was dropping over her slender hips to the floor, leaving her standing in only her underwear and summer slingbacks. When occasional thought cohered in Anna’s head, it was thankfulness for the Sunday afternoon she and Mimi had spent depilating, moisturising, clipping, trimming and polishing their bodies in front of Dirty Dancing. She was as buff and smooth as she would ever be, so that John’s exploring hands would encounter little resistance in their journey. "You’re fucking beautiful."

She shuffled out of the shoes and stood on tiptoe so that she could reach his mouth with hers, longing to have them joined once more. He obliged, running hands down the hollow of her back, cupping her bottom with a squeeze that made her moan. Quick as a flash, his hand was between her thighs, tugging at the knicker elastic, sliding inside, finding her wet, as he knew he would.

His other hand unhooked her bra. "Come on," he ordered gruffly. "Bed."

She lay amidst the puffy peaks of the duvet, watching him avidly while he tore off his shirt and trousers, revealing the extent of his desire for her when his boxers followed suit.

"I’m not waiting for you another minute," he vowed, diving on the bed at Anna’s side, then leaping astride her, covering her body with his and ravaging it with kisses and caresses.

"Oh please, oh please," gasped Anna, running her hands all over him, grinding her hips against his in mindless need, opening up for him, offering him everything she had and was. He wrenched down the knickers, rubbing his cock in the juices he found there while she disposed of the inconvenient wisp of fabric with her toes.
"So ready for me," he hissed in her ear, sounding almost pained by the weight of his longing for her. "Do you want this, Anna?"

I don't know about Anna (actually, I do) but, y'know…hello…

If you're tempted to read on, it's available from CARINA PRESS.

Sunday, February 19, 2012

Sunday...


So I finally wrangled CJ Lemire into a 1K/1hr. We've been trying to set this puppy up for weeks. And today [angelic choir] all the stars aligned. I was in a sweet spot in the book and in rare typing form so my 1K/1Hr turned into 2607/1hr. Which bumps my WIP up to almost 21K and frees me up for editing.

I'm super stoked about my WIP because I have unusual plans for it. A bit on the oddball side. But I think it will be super. Of course, given the strange nature of this project and how I'm going to go about it, it's one of my favorite things ever. Also, I'm doing something I've never done with a character in a full length work! Jeesh! Talk about unconventional lunacy.

So while I percolate on maybe doing another 1K/1Hr later today with CJ AND Aisling Weaver (if you want to join us keep your eyes wide on twitter), I am editing a book that is due like...yesterday! I love this book. I have never written a female lead like this before, but boy howdy, I feel like I am marching uphill waist deep in molasses on this one. Probably because of the time constraints and a Beta reader is waiting on it, but Lord! It's like one of those dreams where you're running running running...but staying utterly still.

Weird.

In other Sunday news, we might get some snow (Shyeah, right, I'll believe it when I see it), I'm going to let my kids skip their chores (because I feel like a rebel) and I am, currently at almost noon, still in pj pants and a FROG BROTHERS VAMPIRE HUNTERS tee courtesy of
Alison Tyler and a super thrift store score.

That is all. Have a rocking good Sunday.

XOXO
Sommer
p.s. pic is in honor of a character I just introduced into super selfish secret project. (http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Jeans.JPG)

Saturday, February 18, 2012

You could win 1 of 5...


Good odds! There's currently a giveaway for FIVE paperback copies of THE BEST OF SOMMER MARSDEN (who is me!) on Goodreads. Go HERE to enter. You might walk out with a dirty book.

Now if you will excuse me, I have a lot of Saturday dicking around to take care of.

XOXO
Sommer

Friday, February 17, 2012

Restless Spirit


is available early as an ebook on ARe! Print and Kindle and all that will be coming along in April as planned. But if you simply cannot wait. If you just cannot handle the time ticking by. If you are impatient in any way. If...well, if you are *like me*, let's face it...the good news is you can read it on your ereader early!

Woop! :) Newsletter subscribers look for Chapter 1 in your inbox later. And if you don't subscribe go that way ~~~~> to do so.

Go HERE for your own shiny new copy. And happy Friday. We shall celebrate with a prologue:

Prologue from RESTLESS SPIRIT by Sommer Marsden

He pulled me to him. Really pulled me. I slid across the crisp white sheets on my belly, randomly grabbing at folds of cloth as Stan pounded into me.

‘Stay with me, Tuesday,’ he said.

I knew he didn’t mean keep up, or come with him, or fuck with the same enthusiasm. He meant don’t go and don’t go wasn’t something I could consider.

‘Shut up, Stan.’

I felt it curling like a flame in my belly, my pussy, my thighs. The flashing, pulsing heat that always means I’m going to come. When Stan got behind me and manhandled me, fucked me hard but said sweet words, it always worked me up. When his fingers dug into the meat of my hips and he moved like a man possessed, my entire being seemed to thrum with the pulse in my neck and my belly.

‘Don’t tell me to shut up,’ Stan said, laying a hard blow on the flushed skin of my ass. But it only made it worse. It only made me worse.

I shoved my hand under my body, finding my clit with slippery fingers. I rubbed hard, way harder than I normally would if anyone were watching me. I thrust my body hard against my hand even as I tried to toss myself back against him. Impaling myself on Stan’s big cock. Throwing myself back into his strong hands. The sexual version of the Nestea plunge, just giving up and hurling myself back into empty space. The unknown.

My pussy started to seize up around him and he grunted, ‘Not yet, girl,’ and pulled free of me.

I made a noise like something feral, but the world turned suddenly and he had me on my back. The bulk of him, six foot three-ish of huge man, hovering over me and prying my legs wide. Stan settled himself between my thighs, finding my slippery slit with his fingers and then his cock.

His mouth came down hard and sweet and needy. ‘Don’t leave, Tuesday,’ he said again. ‘Or take me with you.’

‘Shut up, Stan,’ I said again. And to help him shut up, I wrapped my legs around his thick waist, opened my body to him, tightened my cunt muscles and as an afterthought, I turned my head, sucked his big finger into my mouth and licked it like I always licked his cock.

Stan, good old Stan, hissed like a scalded cat and whispered, ‘Christ.’

‘Fuck me, Stan,’ I said this time and he buried his handsome face in my neck and set about doing just that. His stubble scraped my flesh raw, his fingers bruised my skin, his bulk crushed the air out of me and it was perfect.

It was what I needed. To forget and to get lost. To open my body and close my mind and feel Stan’s broad slippery cock ramming into me like he was punishing me, but in the most delicious way, for leaving him.

When he pinned my wrists down by my sides and damn near smashed me flat with his 200 plus pounds. When he sucked the whimpers and the moans off my lips and swallowed them down. When he ground his hips in that way he has and rocked from side to side. That’s when I came.

‘You’re leaving me, Tuesday, aren’t you?’ he said.

‘Honey, we were never really together,’ I told him.

He sighed, his finger running over my dusky nipple making it stand up like some well trained thing.

‘I know.’

‘I know you do.’ I brushed my fingers through his reddish brown hair and he flared his hand over my belly so the muscles twitched.

‘Why, Tues?’

‘I’m too fucking damaged, Stan.’

He didn’t argue. Stan had been fucking me for months. And we’d been having this post coital back and forth for almost as long. He didn’t argue because for the most part, Stan knew I was right.

When he left he threw his final say over his shoulder on his way out the door. ‘You’re not damaged, Tuesday. You’re restless.’



Whew. Good morning.

XOXO
Sommer

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Notes on the boob tube...

I have a book currently kicking my ass and a project I'm wooing and plying with liquor. So in lieu of an actual intelligent blog, I am just going to say this:

Re: Survivor Men vs. Women.


Not impressed with the men. What a bunch of weenies! I mean, to not even finish the competition. Wee-nies. That is all I'm saying. Even being buff and shirtless can't save them, because the moment they open their mouths I roll my eyes and think [weenies!].

Re: Top Chef Season 9

Link

Team Paul! That is all. He is just that good. And he's nice too. So what is not to like about Paul? Even when he gets super stressed or worried...he's Zen. You never see him lose his shit. And anyone who can do that is damn near a god to me. The girl who loses her shit on a regular basis.

There. I now return to my dirty book (two of them actually) and you can discuss weenies and how orsum Paul is. (Thank you Charlotte Stein for the use of orsum)

Now discuss! You. Are. Welcome.

XOXO
Sommer

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

It's a winning week!




I'm happy to say I have two novellas in The Secret Library collection launching from Xcite in April. Wooohoo! Lucky you, you have a chance to win the *whole* collection. Score! Just click the image above or click HERE for a chance.

And the luck keeps coming because while you sit right there. Yes...RIGHT THERE (careful, in a moment I'm going to saw through a can with a knife to demonstrate how awesome this opportunity is), you can click on the image to your right and enter my giveaway for a chance to win a paperback copy of RESTLESS SPIRIT. Or...you can go down just one blog (*saw-saw-saw*) and enter to win the Valentine's Day giveaway.

Gasp! What a bargain for you. Just 19.99 if you call n---I mean utterly free to enter so click away.

Happy freaking...Wednesday. Jeesh. I had to think for a moment!

XOXO
Sommer

Monday, February 13, 2012

Happy almost Valentine's Day! (giveaway)

Link
For Valentine's Day we're (me and some dirty author cohorts) celebrating a gorgeous sexy anthology, Absolute Valentines, brought to you by House of Erotica. Yay! Isn't it pretty?

Inside you'll fine my story Polly along with tales from Victoria Blisse, Lucy Felthouse, Scarlett Knight, Vanessa de Sade and many others. Please note, my lovely cohorts listed above are also doing giveaways, so click, click, click those links, folks!

My tale's very simple. Sexy sex in the kitchen of a brand new house. Every home needs to be christened, if you will, and sometimes sex in a random room is the most stimulating sex of all.

“Bacon, bacon, bacon,” Chuck sang softly. When he caught her looking at him he snapped the metal tongs at her and said, “That’s the bacon song.”

“You don’t say?” Molly fed bread into the toaster as a piece of wood popped in the wood burning stove.

The room was toasty warm and the coffee they sipped at was blazing hot. Snow tapped at the window.

“Great song, ain’t it?”

She couldn’t help but smile. The butter knife dropped from her hand and she bent to pick it up. Molly yelped with the tongs clamped the hem of her mid-thigh length nightshirt and drew it up. “What do we have under here?” Chuck asked, his voice suddenly more serious.

“Nothing!” she chirped standing.

But he didn’t drop her hem and when she looked in his eyes she saw they’d gone dark. “Exactly. Nothing. Keeping secrets, are you?”

“No.” She shook her head, swallowed hard. The steady beat of her pulse had started between her legs and a rush of wetness surprised her. No panties to catch it, so the heated juices graced the tops of her thighs. Molly chewed her bottom lip.

“What’s wrong, baby? You’re blushing. Is something going on down there?”

The tongs disappeared and he began snatching all the crisp bacon from the pan before dropping it piece by piece on paper towel. When she grabbed the toast, Chuck came up behind her, pressing his body to hers he whispered. “Are you wet under that dreadful nightshirt, baby?”



I'll give away, in honor of this lover's celebration, a pdf (or alternate format) of COUPLING: Filthy Erotica for Couples*, because it just feels right. :) (*If you already have COUPLING, you are welcome to another book off my back list. No worries!)

All you have to do to win is leave me a comment and name a room. Which is the best room/place in your home where you've had super hot sex? No worries, you don't have to share details, just give me the room. But to make everyone comfy, I'll go first:

Once upon a time, the man and I were a young couple who rented the first floor of a very large, very old house. There was even stained glass in that joint. We had one baby and no mortgage and were getting back on track sex-wise after said baby.

That baby was totally unconscious in the other room and we started getting frisky on the sofa. Like I said, hey, we were getting our sex life back from good to scorching and never made it past the middle of the living room floor. Sprawled between the entertainment center and the sofa.

I still remember that sex. Hell, I can tell you what I was wearing. A babydoll cut yellow and orange striped sundress, white cotton panties and a pair of gold summer sandals. And my hair looked I'd licked a light socket when we were done. Ah...good stuff. Pardon me while I start singing Memories and start swaying in time.

Now you tell me your room and I'll draw tomorrow on Friday for a copy of Coupling. And maybe while you're at it, you should go buy a copy of Absolute Valentines for your valentine and get busy with your significant other in the middle of the living room floor. Or dining room table. Or the staircase. Or clutching the kitchen butcher's block like my character Polly. :)

XOXO
Sommer
p.s. don't forget to pop in here: Victoria Blisse, Lucy Felthouse, Scarlett Knight, Vanessa de Sade

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Read this book!




And then read it again. Okay, I don't know about read it again, but read the sequel. Which is what I'm about to do.

I fell ass backwards into this book and am so glad I did. I became an instant Stark groupie and have a serious hard-on (the girly kind) for Richard Kadrey's writing. I think I have a bit of a crush, to be honest. Any writer who can take a genre I don't (think) I like and make me love it and write the entire book in a way that I am completely able to visualize it...is fucking BRILLIANT!

Not once in this book did I have to try. I did not have to try and visualize or try and understand or try and follow the plot. It was fluid and damn near perfect and yeah, I'm a little jealous. Oh, and if you are a dialogue junkie, then this books is even more of a perfect fit for you. The dialogue is pretty much audible to your internal ear as you read.

If Sandman Slim were a movie, it would be my go to sick day, rainy day, lazy day movie. It would be the kind of movie I could recite verbatim. As it goes, I guess it'll be a 'slipper book'. Which I've blogged about before. That's what I call the books that live on my shelves that I grab when I want to read a good book but my brain is not up for new and unexplored territory. They happen to be my favorite books ever and this book is going right up there with them.

Read it! Why are you just standing there? Chop chop!

XOXO
Sommer

extreme makeover take two...

So you saw my updated cover for Restless Spirit (ebook due out this week, I believe) the other day. Now one of my favorite novels ever has gotten one, too. God, I wish this one had gone to print, LOL. I'd have loved to hold it in my hot little hands. 70 odd thousand words of sex of the month, best friend drag queens and hijinx. (I love using the word hijinx).

Behold the new cover for Calendar Girl. Ta and da! I think Jeffrey would totally approve. If you don't know who Jeffrey is, you need to read the book ;)

Love it.

XOXO
Sommer

Saturday, February 11, 2012

Where in the world is Sommer Marsden?


I am in Waterstones York! according to the fantabulous Lucy Felthouse. And lookie there. I am smushed right up against one of my all-time favorite dirty authors Justine Elyot. In public!

Super. Happy Saturday. This made my morning.

XOXO
Sommer

Friday, February 10, 2012

UK readers often give me a big giant head...


That's 'a' big giant head. Not just 'big giant head'. Now that that's all cleared up let's take these two reviews for THE BEST OF SOMMER MARSDEN for example. (Note, should you want the Kindle version of this book for the US it's HERE ).

Yay! Thanks so very much to Sarah and Raunchy Reader for making my Friday :)

As for the picture, if you click it, it gets bigger. Boy, if I had a dollar for every time I heard that...heh.

XOXO
Sommer

Polly...


is my story in the Absolute Valentine collection from House of Erotica. Stay tuned for more on that and more about my fabulous co-authors. Monday I'll be blogging, blogging, blogging...get those words a bloggin'...*ahem*. Sorry. Somehow I got Rawhide stuck in my head.

I blame this insane week.

But it's Friday. Yay Friday! That means Gordon Ramsay and Supernatural tonight and the most important of all: SLEEPING IN TOMORROW! Can I get a woop-woop?

Off I go. My second cup of coffee's calling me.

XOXO
Sommer

Thursday, February 9, 2012

duh...


Cause I needed more stuff to slap my face on:

http://www.facebook.com/SommerMarsden

That's right. An author page. I've had so many people ask me if I had one, I finally did it. Randomly. Out of the blue. For no reason other than it occurred to me while liking another page. I blame the coffee. And the lack of sleep. And the dog. I'm sure he had a paw in this somewhere.

Morning.

XOXO
Sommer
p.s. Come like me please! Otherwise I will have to sit in the corner and weep softly.

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Want my undying love?


Heh. Undying.

Write me a zombie story for COMING TOGETHER: HUNGRY FOR LOVE. The latest and greatest venture from Alessia Brio's brainchild Coming Together series. All sales proceeds will go to The American Diabetes Association. You get exposure and good Karma. And my undying love.

The full call page is HERE so go there for more info.

On a personal note, it wasn't long ago that, due to life long side effects of a pancreatic birth defect, my man became insulin dependent (aka Type 1 diabetes). It's been an interesting and often exhausting ride for all of us. Obviously, him especially. The learning curve for something like this later in life is amazingly difficult. But like all things in his life, he found a place where he is pretty much kicking ass and taking names and managing better than almost everyone his doctor's seen (he is a bit of an overachiever, if I do say so myself). So when asked by Alessia Brio if I wanted to do a zombie antho, I immediately said yes and ADA was my choice to benefit.

Plus, I think brains are very low in carbs ;)

So, your turn! Show me what ya got. I look forward to it.

XOXO
Sommer

Monday, February 6, 2012

remodeled...


My upcoming book RESTLESS SPIRIT was given a last minute upgrade. This is the new cover. The ebook will drop mid February and the print will be out (as planned) end of April (UK with US to follow some time after).

I'll post when the ebook is available.

Hope your Monday is full of all things kick ass.

XOXO
Sommer

Sunday, February 5, 2012

CAPA ~tacular!


I do not know how I did not know this. But my novella BLANK is on the CAPA list at The Romance Studios for GLBT Romance. Guess I won't have much time to agonize over it, now will I? It's nearly done! :)

XOXO
Sommer

Saturday, February 4, 2012

How convenient...


If you wanted both short anthologies from House of Erotica in one nifty convenient anthology...HOE has made that happen. They're now offering 8 shorts in one volume. Sommer Lovin', no less. Does anyone else hear Olivia Newton John in their head? And right now it's on sale. Bonus!

Oh and also, they called me "erotica diva Sommer Marsden"...how can I not love that?

XOXO
Sommer
p.s. Don't forget to tell me when you were ballsy and brave and enter my Restless Spirit (and then some) contest. You still have lots of time :) GO HERE TO ENTER.

Friday, February 3, 2012

sorry so quiet...

Knickers split

I've been working on some short things. And I'm rather giddy with it. After so many novellas and novels in a row, I feel like a slacker, lazy bones. Writing super shorts to medium shorts and watching Face Off on SyFy in the middle of the day. Ahem...among *other* fun things given the man is working from home today. Whatever will become of me! I'm out of control.

Heh.

Have a great weekend! I plan to :)

XOXO
Sommer

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Ruby and Ellis and Tyler, oh my!


One of my favorite people, KD Grace, has interviewed me on her site. The interview covers Long Lost and Big Bad and all sorts of other things. She was so sweet, bending over backwards to ask questions that didn't create any spoilers at all for Long Lost. Not an easy feat, trust me. Plus...she looked pretty sexy bent backwards like that ;)

Go check IT OUT and say hi. And thanks, as always to KD, for her hospitality. Now I need her to teach me how to garden the way she does!

XOXO
Sommer