Wednesday, October 31, 2012

In honor of Halloween...


A free read. An oldie but a spooky. Originally appeared at Ruthie's Club many moons ago:

By Sommer Marsden

The first time David bit me, I wasn’t expecting it. I was also shocked by how quickly I came. The shock was instant—the orgasm a close second. Hard. Intense. Like nothing I had ever experienced before. And I was hooked.
I would look at them in the mirror every chance I got. I kept it a secret, even from him. I tried to ignore the secret thrill I would get when I touched one. Pushed on it. How the skin sang with the tender pain that only comes from abused flesh. I always felt a little sad when the marks faded, when the bruises slipped away from me.
In time, I found myself praying he would bite me while he was fucking me. Sometimes he did. Sometimes he didn’t. When he did, I always wanted more, wanted him to push me further—up the ante of pain and pleasure. The anticipation would get under my skin and make me itch. Would he do it this time? I wanted him to so badly. Not once in awhile. Every time. And yet, I couldn’t bring myself to ask for it.
It got to the point that I wasn’t above biting myself on the shoulder while he fucked me. Just to get that rush. Just to feel that exquisite pain. I found out, though, that I didn’t cherish those marks. The marks I cherished were the ones he left. An alpha symbol that I was his? A territorial claim? Whatever the reason, those were the ones that made me wet by doing nothing other than provoking them with a harsh poke from my finger.
The time had come to confess. I was thirty-five this month. A fancy dinner. A special celebration. I would tell him what I wanted. For my birthday. A treasured gift from him to me. He would understand.
David came at dusk, at the end of his shift. I’m a night owl, so I didn’t have a problem with our late night dates. They worked just fine for me. He looked good enough to eat. Tall and broad-shouldered, he filled out the tailored black pants and pin-striped shirt flawlessly. His dirty blond hair was the perfect mixture of groomed and mussed. I could smell his distinctive scent—a cross between spice and musk. I wanted to skip dinner and haul his ass up to the bedroom. I could use the time during dinner, though, to gather my strength and try to figure out how to explain what I needed from him. How badly I needed it.
“You look lovely, as usual,” he said and kissed me. A good kiss. The kind that curled my toes and heated my blood. I murmured my appreciation. He inhaled the scent of me and I almost blurted it out then and there, just from the way he took a good deep breath of me, like I was perfume or fine wine. “Is my lovely Rowan ready for her big night?”
I nodded, tucking my chin for a moment in case he could detect that look on my face, the look that says I have something to get off my chest. “Of course I am.”
David lifted my chin with his finger and stared at me, a little too hard, a probing stare. “You sure? Is something wrong?”
“Nothing. Just hungry and ready to go,” I said and tucked my arm in his. “Let’s go. Feed me. I’m dying.”
“Well, we don’t want that, now do we? I like you very much alive. All rosy and glowing and thirty-five. Ripe.”
The tiny hairs along the back of my neck perked up when he put it that way. Ripe. Like a peach. Ready. David had no idea how ready I was. What I wanted. I was determined to ask. At thirty-five, you can’t be shy about what you want. No. It was time to speak up.
I straightened my shoulders and started to think about how I would put it, how I would phrase my request. Maybe it was really a demand, though. I wasn’t sure. I had chosen a tiny black dress for our dinner. It stopped just above my knees. It was tight enough to be revealing without being slutty—low-cut, not plunging—but the back was nearly missing, my shoulders bare and my neck exposed. The ties around my neck were the only fabric holding the bodice to my breasts.
I shivered and smiled. “Let’s go! I’m ready.”
And I was. I would explain over an elegant dinner. Then, if all went well, I’d get my way. I’d have my present.
The restaurant was barely lit. I could hardly see David across the table. The ambiance was perfect for a little debauchery. I wondered briefly how many couples had gone at it in the dark booths or perhaps ducked under the elegant white tablecloths. The whole place had that kind of feel. Very posh but a little wicked. I liked the choice. Very much. This was the kind of place in which I could confess my secret wants. I could find the courage in the shadows and the flickering candlelight.
“Something’s on your mind.” David said softly. “You’re not yourself.” He was taking tiny bites of his barely cooked filet mignon. The way David liked his steaks took “rare” to a whole new level. I called it “mooing.”
“There is,” I sighed. Time to stop thinking about telling him and actually fucking tell him. “There’s something I want from you.”
He raised an eyebrow and for what seemed like the thousandth time, I got sucked in by those otherworldly eyes, a blue I had never seen on another living person. Or in nature, for that matter. “A present? Rowan, I got you a present. It’s in the car. Did you think I would forget?”
“You’re not getting me.” I laughed. “I know you. You would never forget to get me a present. I’m also sure I’ll love it. Your taste is impeccable.”
“Of course—I chose you after all.” He took my hand and ran his thumb along the edge of my palm. “Only the best for me.”
“Yes. And for me?”
Again, his thumb traveled my skin, waking up all the nerves that had dared to go to sleep. I always liked his hands on me. It didn’t really matter where. Some places were preferable to others, but just the feel of his hands sliding over my skin was enough to get me aroused. I hummed a little but held my tongue. Maybe this would work—make him ask me.
“I’m not the best?” David asked in his best teasing tone, but just underneath was a hint of wariness.
“You are...” I sighed and stroked his thumb with mine, relishing the little zings of electricity coursing through me. “...which is why I should be able to be honest.”
He didn’t release my hand but he sat back, straining our contact. His face fell just a little and he seemed to grow paler. “Are you...breaking up with me?”
“What? No!” Then I understood the look. As I searched for the right words to explain, and slowly worked my way up to what I wanted to say, he thought I was trying to figure out how to let him down gently. I started to laugh. It was too funny. And I felt very stupid. “I was trying to find the right words to describe what I want from bed,” I said, letting my voice fall to a barely audible whisper.
Both his eyebrows arched. A smile twisted those perfect lips and my body liquefied for just a moment. “Oh, now the conversation just got interesting. What do you want, Rowan? I’m dying to hear.”
The tone in his voice had me shifting on the soft leather banquette. I could tell him. Why was I so hesitant? I had never been shy about expressing my needs or wants before. Somehow, this felt different, though. Taboo, almost. Even with David.
“I want...” I hesitated another moment, feeling his gaze on me. Something in me said to just leave it. Not say it. Let it go. I couldn’t, though. I wanted it too badly. “I want you to break me.”
David blinked, the smile faltering a little. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean. I’m curious as hell, sure, but I don’t think I get it.”
I inhaled deeply, my head swimming from anxiety. “My skin. I want you to bite me, like you do sometimes. I love it. Live for it. Obsess over it…but I’ve never told you. And for my birthday,” I went on, my words hurried. “I want you to break the skin. Break me.”
His face grew even paler, his expression darkening. “Row, I don’t think that’s wise. Really, I don’t. I’d do anything for you, baby, but that can be dangerous. If you want the marks, I can do that. I will do that. Any time you want me to, just say the word. But breaking the skin…really biting you. Not good.” His eyes seemed luminescent in the dim light, his face a carefully controlled mask. He was turning me down and trying to gauge my reaction.
“I’ve thought of all that. The safety issues—infection,” I pushed on, not ready to give up yet. Not sure if I would give up. Ever. “And I’m not talking take a chunk out of my skin. I mean just a little. Just break it some. Enough that there’s a little blood.” I laughed and it sounded slightly shrill in the quiet restaurant. “Don’t go all Bela Lugosi on me. Just a little puncture.”
I felt a weight settle in my chest. If his face was any indication, I wasn’t going to get my way. I hadn’t convinced him. He stared at me long and hard without speaking. I felt the urge to shift and fidget but just stared back. Body language was everything when you went toe-to-toe with someone. Maybe if I looked dead-set on my wants, he’d give in. And I was dead-set. Not enough to lose David over it, no, but I desperately wanted him to cave to my urges. I would argue a few more rounds if I had to. I took a deep breath but remained still. I waited.
After what seemed like forever, he spoke, so softly, I could barely make out the words. I half heard them and half read his lips. “I’ll think about it. I can tell how ... important it is to you. I’m still not sure it’s advisable, though. In fact, I’m positive it isn’t, but I’m not saying no. I’m just asking for dinner and drinks to think it over. Is that acceptable?”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no either. It was consideration. Really, all I could ask of the man. He had reservations and yet he would think it over. I nodded. “That’s acceptable.”
I barely tasted dinner.
The car ride home was quiet—not tense, just quiet. Not the birthday celebration I had in mind, but I was sure David hadn’t expected me to ask him to defile my skin either. So we were even. I waited, hoping against all odds that he would decide in my favor and give me what I needed. When we got home, I opened the door and stepped in. I didn’t turn on the lights. I let the dim glow filtering in from the street lamps light my way. I sat on the sofa and steeled myself.
“Now, tell me what you decided. The suspense is killing me.” I tried for lightheartedness, but my words and my tone were tense.
He sat next to me, gathered me in his arms and pulled me close. He stroked my thigh and his hands whispered over my dress. My body responded instantly, but my mind was in a whirl. What would he say? Would he say yes? Could I handle it if he said no?
I waited, the anxiety painting bright colors before my eyes in the dark living room—swirls of blue and purple and red where there was only darkness. David sighed and slid his hand up higher, let it rest on my waist. “I still say it’s not wise but I can feel...” he trailed off.
“ desperation.” A bark of nervous laughter escaped me, and I winced. It was true. I was desperate.
“Tell me why.”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. My shoulder slid along his as it rose and fell. “The first time you did it, I came. I mean, I came hard. Harder than I think I ever have.” Another self-conscious shrug reminded me how close we were.
“I remember.” His voice was soothing, but there was just the tiniest hint of arousal.
“And the marks you left...” I slid my hand onto his lap and felt how hard he was. Maybe I would win after all. It was worth a shot. I started to stroke him through the material as I talked. “They got me off for days after you left them. I could get wet just pushing my fingers against them. The ache of where your mouth had been.” My hand slipped up and down the length of his cock, letting the fabric of his slacks ease my way. “I looked at them all the time. If I poked at them, I could go right back in my mind to you fucking me. Pounding into me. I like your mark on me,” I said on a breath. My voice had gone from tense to a deep purr. I ran my thumb along the head of his cock and although I couldn’t see it, I knew that if I freed him from his pants, I’d find a glistening drop of pre-cum there.
He let out a dark growl in the darkness. His head moved toward me. He took a deep drag of my scent as if just the smell of me intoxicated him. His mouth was so close to my throat I felt its presence. If he moved a fraction of an inch, his teeth would be against my skin. My body twisted into knots—fevered and taut and fluid. My nipples tightened the way they did when the temperature was brutally cold. They rasped against my dress and stopped my breath for just a second. Without thinking, I continued to stroke him.
Another growl and his hand wrapped around my wrist—a nearly painful grasp that set my pulse point below his fingers thumping. Even my blood was desperate to be near him, beating at the cage of skin that held it prisoner.
His mouth, still maddeningly close to my flesh, whispered, “I still say it isn’t wise. You don’t know what you’re getting into. You’re pushing the limits. Walking that line. Rowan, you don’t want to walk that line.”
Oh, but I did. I wanted to walk that line. I wanted to dance on it and slide on it. I wanted to cross it. Not just cross it, but leap over it in one freeing act. Break me. Make me yours. I screamed it in my head but waited patiently on the outside. He hadn’t said no. Yet.
“Please.” I didn’t pull against his grip, but I leaned in so his mouth was on my throat. It was all I could think to say at this point. It was my only hope.
He sighed and his breath was as light as a moth’s wings on my skin. The flesh at my throat pebbled under the subtle stirring of air. “Rowan.” There was a plea in the timbre of his words but I ignored it.
I gave a gentle tug. That was all it took and he released me instantly. David would never hurt me, I knew that. Not real hurt. I slid to the floor and quickly got rid of his belt and opened the slacks he looked so good in. He raised his hips to accommodate me, and I slipped his pants down and tossed them aside. I wanted him to say yes so bad, just as badly I wanted him in my mouth. One thing I couldn’t control. The other I could.
I took my time, relishing the slide of soft, steely skin between my lips—the secret taste of him, the way he smelled, the soft sounds he made when my mouth took him in. Suddenly, I was ravenous to take him and suck him, and I knew why. I could feel it, right in the center of my chest where the truth lives. He would give me what I wanted. I was certain. I licked the length of him, enjoyed the feel of the engorged head of his cock on my tongue. I ate him like an ice cream cone, the way my teenage friends once joked about learning to give blow jobs and then we would laugh. But I did it. Like the sweetest dessert in the world.
A light knock came at the front door and David’s body tensed. “Just trick-or-treaters,” I sighed around his erection. “I left the front porch light off. They’ll leave.” Having a Halloween birthday had been great as a kid but as an adult, it could be disruptive.
I was going faster, finding my rhythm, very intent on feeling him come in my mouth. It was an obsessive thought. The salty taste of semen. The arch of his body. The noise he made that seemed to come from the back of his throat. It was the only thought in my mind when he clamped his hands to my head and made me go still.
“What?” I tried to move my head, tried to continue what I was doing. I wanted him back in my mouth and it was the only thing I could think of.
“Up here. Now. Come.” His words were clipped and so unlike him—dark and sinister in the blackness of the living room. I tried to read his expression in the dim light, but I couldn’t see anything but the shadowed planes and angles of his face.
I moved within his reach. I stood there, unsure of what to do. From his tone, he sounded angry. His hands pawed at my dress, shoved it up as if it were a housedress. He seemed oblivious of manners or mores and my blood rushed under my skin, singing to me from inside my body. A heated surge of moisture soaked my panties. I clenched my thighs, mildly embarrassed.
David leaned forward, shoving the dress further up my waist. “Take it off.”
I did. Without hesitation, I yanked it over my head in one swift motion. It joined his slacks in the pile. He grabbed the side of my panties, sexy ones bought just for this special evening—two black triangles of fabric held together at the sides by thin yellow ribbons. He yanked so hard I staggered, and they fell away from my body, nothing but fancy scrap material at that point.
“David, are you—”
“Rowan!” My name came out primitive—a hiss of air and guttural sounds. There was nothing but need and want in that voice. Warm fluids seeped down my inner thighs. “Here!” He yanked me down, cradling me for just a moment as if gaining control. Then he flipped me.
I let out a startled cry as my head banged the armrest. His hands pulled at me roughly and my body responded. A steady throb pulsed in my cunt, my heart railed in my chest and my ears hissed with the sound of thumping blood. I whimpered as he hiked my hips higher, parted my thighs roughly, positioned me the way he wanted me. Needed me. I could feel it now—the need. His need. It radiated like radio waves at high frequency.
The blunt head of his cock nudged my opening. No time to adjust. No niceties. One thrust and he was in. My head snapped back as he burrowed deeply on one single heartbeat. I couldn’t breathe but it was miraculous. My cunt milked at him, already flirting with an intense orgasm. Then he leaned forward, lightly closing his teeth over the back of my neck, near my shoulder where a bundle of nerves sprang to life, stoking a fire under my skin. His tongue snaked out, wetting the spot. I shivered, loving the feel of his spit on my skin. His tongue warmed that place few people pay attention to.
“I wish you hadn’t been so stubborn,” he mumbled. I heard him, but it didn’t register because he was fucking me. It had always been good but this—this was fucking. It was what you heard about—starbursts behind the eyelids, screaming orgasms, feeling faint. All of the above. I had it. I felt it.
The harder he thrust, the wetter I became. My body eased the way for his breadth and length but greedily wrapped around him in the process. His hand found my breasts and he twisted my nipples to the point of pain, but I didn’t cry out. I was too enchanted by the steady rhythm of him slamming into me, mesmerized by each brutal thrust of his cock against my G-spot. His teeth sank into my neck a little further. I moaned and I sounded like a mad woman. Desperate. Insane.
“I would give you anything,” he panted. “Up until now, I have controlled myself. For you.” Each word was punctuated by a thrust that pushed my face into the cushions. I nearly lost my balance but gave up the battle and rested my forehead on the chocolate brown fabric to steady myself. He draped his body over mine, his mouth never leaving me. “You have no idea how hard it was, Rowan. To be that close. To smell you. Not to act. It goes against my very nature.” Thrust. Pound. Brutal. Blissful.
Again his teeth sank deeper, and my body tightened, forcing the friction between us to feel even better. My pleasure heightened, and my body felt light and heavy. I was close. If he would just break me, I’d be done. Done. I would be lost. And found... I was so intent on my desire, my wish, that I barely heard his words.
“And you come to me with this request. What can I say? I would give you anything. I’ve fallen in love with you. So, I’m torn. Give the woman I love what she really wants or deny her and save my soul. Not that I have one.”
His teeth plunged through my skin and orgasm broke deep within me. There was pain, great waves of it, but it made the pleasure miraculous in its intensity. His mouth drew on me, sucking my neck. The orgasm continued. It was more intense and lengthy than anything I had ever felt—a hot searing delight that washed over me inside and out. I rode wave after wave as colors danced behind my eyelids and still he drew on me. Sucking. Louder now. Greedy sounds.
“I’m giving you my mark. Just like you wanted. I don’t know if I’ll turn you,” he mumbled against my neck, his cock still pushing at me, sliding in and out of my willing body. I moaned again but it was fainter. The pleasure could be heard, even by me, but it was a weaker smaller sound. “That is my hope. That you’ll turn, and I won’t lose you.”
My mind was catching up. Scrambling, terrified, absorbing his words. I was still coming. Contractions and releases that made me feel dizzy and weak. It felt so good but I was slipping. I could feel it.
“I love you, Rowan. I hope I gave you what you wanted. I hope you make it through. You taste so good...”
My body still twitched and grabbed at him. The warmth of arousal and orgasm still flowed. I sank down further on the sofa, his teeth still on me, the sounds of his hunger in my ears.
I rode the wave and couldn’t tell whether I was dying or coming to life.

Boo to you and some roaring too!


Happy Halloween! Frankenstorm had me so turned around I was sure when my alarm went off that it was Sunday. So I was very irate that that damn alarm was going off. When I got myself upright, though, I realized it was Halloween. Yay!

And then there, in my inbox, treat (no trick!) was Lion Hearted. Book one in my m/m paranormal series Divination Falls. It's out out out! Today :) No calories! Go HERE for more on Tryg, Luke and Divination Falls. Now for me...more coffee.


Tuesday, October 30, 2012

I am so fucking ridiculously excited!

One of my most beloved books ever, that has only been in ebook format up until now, is out in PAPERBACK! Pardon me while I flail around and squeal and basically act like an ass.

Go HERE to get a paperback copy of Calendar Girl. Gosh. I  never thought I'd get to say that. :D

Also, we survived Frankenstorm (thus far). Flickering of power, tons of rain, noise, wind and me unable to hunker down and sleep until I stuck a Benadryl in my mouth...but that was the worst of it. We are up and running today. I hope all my east coast friends fared as well or close and that everyone's safe and sound.

Here is a shot of my swimming pool. I mean backyard. It's taken from my bedroom so everything looks tiny but those are some fairly big chunks of tree down there. But if you peek to the right you will see my bottle tree survived. Whew. I mean...what? Did you think we  bought all that wine?


Monday, October 29, 2012

Are you hungry from Frankenstorm?

Hungry or not, there is a strong possibility that both Alessia Brio and myself (both in the path of Frankenstorm) may lose power and be reduced to communication via carrier pigeons. Since that's a real possibility, Coming Together: Hungry for Love is out early!

Here are all the venues:

I find it amusing that a Frankenstorm is the reason we are releasing a zombie book before our Halloween deadline. See, somehow that tickles my dark humored funny bone.

Be safe everyone! And go buy something good to read to ride out the storm. Might I suggest a certain book zombie book chock full of great stories?


Sunday, October 28, 2012

I'm at...

A Good Dead Blog today sharing a ... strange experience. Let's call it that. Shall we? ;) Go see what you think happened, I'd love to hear  your theories.

Also, Frankenstorm is coming. So if I go silent...I'm probably without electricity. Which means--weeping in the corner sucking my thumb/drinking wine and being suckered into playing Uno with electronic deprived kids/calming a weiner dog/reading by candle light. Or any bizarre combo of above.

Wish us luck! I think we're gonna need it.


Saturday, October 27, 2012

stuff, stuff! good stuff! read them all. they're all good but one is FREE :)~

Thing One: Lion Hearted will be released via Kindle next week. It's book 1 in my Divination Falls Series--my m/m paranormal series. Yay! The book will go live on Kindle next week and then show up everywhere else come January 2013. Woohoo

Thing two: This morning I turned in the Introduction and the Foreword for Coming Together: Hungry for Love. The Foreword was penned by the amazing Thomas Roche, author of many many dirty works and the author of The Panama Laugh . Who better to pen some words on zombies and sex? I am honored he said yes and it looks as if we are right on track for the Halloween release. Woohoo again!

For more about Thomas (if you've been under a rock for a good long while ;) ) visit his BLOG.

The final AND FREE thing is that Taste It is currently free on iTunes (until Nov 9th). At present, I don't have a link, but if you go to iTunes and simply search Taste It Sommer Marsden, you should be golden. Very exciting stuff to be all free and easy on iTunes. So go grab your copy today.

That's it! Happy weekend everyone. I have some horror movies to go watch :) Boo!


Friday, October 26, 2012


She Knows How to Use Them
Is my Wanderlust/Blisse Kiss After Dark winner! I'll be sending a little email along to that lucky address. Some toasty feet will be arriving just in time for the chill via a Sock Dreams gift certificate compliments of me and my randy characters. :)

Happy Friday.


Thursday, October 25, 2012

Words I never thought I'd see...

Dark Figure

"Our guest blogger on Sunday 28th will be the internationally acclaimed author, Sommer Marsden who will be sharing her own personal ghost story."

But there they are. Crazy but humbling. Anyhoo, I'm going to be at A Dead Good Blog this Sunday, at the invitation of the wonderful Ashley Lister, telling a story I've told maybe...maybe...a handful of people in 25 years. I hope you'll pop in and tell me what you think happened way back when. In the meantime, pop over and read up on the ghostly goings on at the ADGB!


Tuesday, October 23, 2012

I enjoyed Coupling with you so much the first time...

I wish to couple with you again! Haha!

Seriously, I've been sitting on this news for so long my ass hurts. A while back I put together a humble little collection titled Coupling. It included various stories from various authors all geared at showing how hot it could be--how profoundly sexy--to be part of a couple.

I expected to sell a few copies.

Imagine my surprise when years later it's still selling at a very respectable pace. And there have been many times that it's ranked super well both in Kindle and paperback form. That book blew me out of the water with its sales and the response it got. Not in my wildest dreams did I ever expect it to do that well.

So...since I still feel the same about the amazing sexy experience one can have being part of a committed couple, I'm doing it again. This go round I've got the amazing Selena Kitt and Willsin Rowe involved (he even did that stellar cover). And my girl crush extraordinaire Alison Tyler came back to give us some stories. Set up will be a bit different but the message will remain the same. Couples can be just as sexy, dirty, naughty, kinky, raunchy, playful, loving, intense and fierce as singles. Don't doubt it for a minute ;)

For more info on stories, authors etc for the original Coupling go HERE. As for Coupling 2, we're shooting for a holiday release from Excessica. Now what could stuff a stocking better than a nice dirty book to read together. We can help you heat up your holidays.


Monday, October 22, 2012

Guest Blogger: Elizabeth Black

Morning, all. I'm semi-coherent. Just coherent enough to say, "Yay, guest blogger!" and "Yay, candy!" Man, I can't wait until I can taste stuff again.

After you read today's offering from Elizabeth Black, don't forget to check out her blog and then, after that, scoot down one blog if you missed it yesterday's toe warming offering.

Happy Monday!


The Joys Of Fall
By Elizabeth Black

I love this time of year. In most parts of the U. S., it's fall. Leaves are turning red, gold, and purple. Pumpkins are growing, ready for pie, quickbread, or carving for Halloween. I  have terra cotta pumpkins, black cats, and maize out as decorations. This is also the season for maple candy, apple cider, and hot cocoa. As the weather chills, light a fire in the hearth and curl up in an overstuffed armchair. Sip hot cocoa - mini marshmallows are required - and dive into a good book. Looking for something sexy? How about erotic fairy tales? I've written two. One is "Climbing Her Tower", my erotic retelling of Rapunzel. The other is "Trouble In Thigh High Boots", my erotic retelling of Puss In Boots. Buy links, a blurb and an excerpt are at the end of this post.

But first, 'tis the season for baking! Not only is it the season for the Day Of The Dead, it's also Halloween. I made Candy Sugar Skulls for The Day Of The Dead, and they reminded me so much of maple candy that I am craving it. I searched the web and found an easy recipe for making it. The only ingredient is maple syrup - real maple syrup not that Mrs. Butterworth glop.

The directions for making maple candy reminds me very much of making English toffee. It's all in the chemistry.

Maple Candy

2 Cups Fancy-grade Maple Syrup


In a heavy-bottomed 4-quart pot, boil maple syrup on medium-high heat to 235 degrees F. Stir the syrup occasionally so it doesn't boil over

Remove the pot from the heat immediately, but leave the thermometer clipped to the side,. Place the pot on a wooden board or non-burning surface to cool. (Don't touch the syrup while it is cooling, or large crystals will form.)

Cool the mixture to 175 degrees F. This takes about ten minutes.

Beat the mixture quickly and continuously with a wooden spoon. Do this until the syrup becomes lighter in color, thick and creamy and begins to lose its gloss. This takes about 4 or 5 minutes.

Pour into maple leaf candy molds or a buttered pan. If using a pan, immediately score into squares. I use candy molds shaped like seashells. Set aside to cool.

Wait until the candies are completely cooled. Flip over the molds and tap out the candies.

Candies will store up to 1 month in a container in a cool, dry space. Makes 18 to 20 one ounce candies.

Hint: The outside temperature will dramatically affect the degree to which you boil maple syrup. The soft ball stage is 235 degrees. To reach the soft ball stage, boil the maple syrup 22 degrees past the boiling point of water. Depending on the outside temperature and the humidity, water will reach the boiling point between 209 and 217 degrees.

And now that you have your hot cocoa and maple candy in hand, curl up with a good book like "Trouble In Thigh High Boots".


Buy Links:

Amazon US:

Amazon UK:


Coming soon: Barnes and Noble, Kobo, Apple, and AllRomanceEbooks


Tita is a Puss In Boots with a little something extra. Being a magical creature, she shifts from a kitty into the form of an alluring, ginger-haired woman when the situation demands it. And what a situation she finds herself in! Her new master Dylan is a poor man who needs a boost in the world. Sly Tita uses her seductive wiles to pass him off to the villagers and the king as the Marquis of Carabas in order to help both of them gain their fortunes. Her plan is not without its problems. Dylan's malicious brother, Zane, lusts after Tita, and he wants her all to himself, but she refuses to succumb to his treachery. Being a cat first and foremost, she purrs in the arms of her many lovers but her heart belongs to only one man - the king. She hopes that in ensuring Dylan his lofty place in the world the king finds a place in his heart for her. Her life becomes an erotic adventure in reaching her goals.


Her stiletto heels clicked on the hardwood floor, attracting the king's attention. When he turned toward her, her heart nearly stopped at the unabashed thrilled look on his face when he set eyes on her. She sniffed the air and smelled castile soap and fragrant oil of rosemary. If I didn't know better, I'd think he expected me. Maybe his knights told him I was on my way.
"Ah, cat, you have returned! How delightful!" The king's jolly laugh boomed around the high-ceilinged room. "My sister told me she saw you on the road. Your rabbits were absolutely delicious. I saved a morsel in case you returned."
She smiled and batted her lashes at him. Stop it! You're acting like a peckish school girl with a bad crush! "You are too kind, Your Highness. Before I accept your gracious offer of food, might I offer you another present from the Marquis of Carabas?"
"Another present? Your Marquis is quite impressive. First, the fattest rabbits I've seen in these parts in a long time, and now more gifts! Yes, please, do show me what you have to offer."
Oh, I'll show you much more than you expect, sire. She lifted her knapsack and prepared to open it, but hesitated. The king looked dejected.
"What's wrong?"
"I want this gift to be a special surprise for you, sire, but I can't have you looking at me when I give it to you."
"Well, what shall we do then?"
"I had an idea." She opened the knapsack a tiny bit, reached inside, and pulled out a silk blindfold. "How about we play a game?"
He clapped his hands. "I love games! Cat, you are quite the adventuress!"
Little do you know… "I do my best, Your Highness." She held the blindfold between her claws. "May I approach you and slip this over your eyes, sire?"
"Of course you may."
"You trust me?"
"Why shouldn't I?"
"How do you know I won't shield your eyes and then slit your throat?"
"Because there's something special about you, cat. I can't put my finger on it, but you are very intriguing. I'm willing to trust you with my life."
Her heart melted at his words, and she took great pride in feeling his affection even though he had not yet seen her in her human form. What would he think of her once he saw her long legs, full breasts, and thick tawny hair? Would he ravish her when he felt the warmth from her heart and tasted the sweetness of her breath? How would he react to the tenderness she longed to give him?
When would he remember her, if he remembered her at all? She had never spoken to him or shifted in front of him when she lived in the castle. Her heart ached with love and memories of his tender caresses and playful roughhousing. If only he recalled her!
She walked to him as he sat in his favorite chair, and then she leapt onto his lap. He ran his fingers through her long fur without thinking twice about it, as many humans did when accosted by a cat, although certainly not most. She had met her share of men and women who beat her and threw pans of water at her. Zane's face flashed into her mind. When would she see him again? Tita knew he would make another appearance soon, aware of his cruelty and greed. She shook her head and quickly shoved his memory away. She would not allow him room in her head to ruin her time with the king.
Thankfully, her king was not cruel. She purred with pleasure as he scratched her behind her ears. Ooooh, he found my most sensitive sweet spot! I can't stand it! Let me at him! In a fit of arousal, she rubbed her mouth against his hand, leaving her scent on his skin.
She stared into his deep blue eyes and paused before lifting her blindfold. I wonder if he can see into my soul when he gazes into my eyes. One look will show him a world he's never before seen. She gazed at him, wishing he could read her mind, to sense the love she felt for him.
"You have lovely eyes, cat. The color of a deep sea – quiet on the surface, but I suspect there is quite a bit of turmoil in those depths." He ran one hand over her back, stroking her length until she arched in response. "Your eyes are very human. Long-lashed and expressive. Are you enchanted?"
"In a way, sire, yes I am. But I'm not cursed. I can give you what you need."
"And what might that be?"
"Let me show you." She slipped the blindfold over his eyes and waited for him to sit back and relax. When his breathing eased, she curled into his lap, placing both paws on his shoulders. "Don't be afraid. And whatever you do, don't remove the blindfold. I'm about to give you my surprise."
As her body lengthened and stretched, she stroked his hair. Paws elongated into palms and fingers and she scratched his scalp with her long nails. He moaned and curled his head into her embrace, but as her furry body grew into curvy feminine form, he backed away with a gasp of alarm.
"Please don't be afraid," she whispered in a deep, mellow voice that sang in his ear. "I won't hurt you." She guided his hands from his sides to her bare hips. "Touch me. Feel me."

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Sunday, October 21, 2012

"turning the kiss into something more than chaste..." [Blisse Kiss After Dark]

As part of the phenomenal Miss Blisse's Blisse Kiss After Dark, I'm posting a favorite snippet from my beloved Wanderlust. Yes, I love it. So much so it is beloved. Don't laugh at me.

And bonus! Come October 26th, I'll pick a Blisse Kiss winner from comments for a $10 Sock Dreams gift card. I hope that made sense, I am currently flu-ish, but couldn't miss a chance to post some Johnny and Really. Fever be damned!


From Wanderlust by Sommer Marsden
I’d never seen such a big man cry before. He didn’t do it the way one would suspect, an angry crying, begrudging his own body its grief. It was more of a folding in on himself. He somehow appeared smaller and more vulnerable to me, and I didn’t argue the point. We could work out semantics later. I simply dropped back onto the mattress, holding onto him tight so he had no option but to fall with me.

He crashed into me, containing his strength, I could tell. But the pain in him was too big to be muffled. For the first time since we met, the kinetic sexual energy between us abated, and all I wanted to do for Johnny Rose was hold him.

So I did.

I held his head to my chest and somewhere in that tangle I wrapped my leg around his leg. We fell asleep that way, the rain’s pounding echoing the turmoil inside the small cabin. I let my fingers play over his scalp as I drifted off.

Boys in boxes, dead mothers, broken bones and pain, I dreamed of it all. All the toxic soup of the past few days swirled together in my sleeping brain and I bobbed along on a river of very unpleasant dreams.

At some point my mother said to me, “I had it coming” and I screamed at her which made my gut ache and my heart break.

I dreamed of small boys in brightly colored sneakers locked in dark places and I dreamed of broken hearted men waiting for me to return to a place I was pretty sure I never wanted to see again.

And when some faceless voice said “It’s all your fault, you know, Aurelia. You simply never managed to be anything of worth” a great unstoppable sob ripped out of me. So loud and so real it woke me up.

I was soaked and Johnny was hushing me. Stroking hair off my forehead with gentle fingers. Something cool kissed my forehead and I felt the bristle of a cheap washcloth over my skin. “Hush, Snowflake. It’s okay. You’ve just been dreaming a little.”

“You’re drunk,” I blurted.

“Not anymore,” he chuckled. “But thanks for reminding me. Sit up, now.”

I did as told and he gently pulled the wet tee over my head. I instantly started to shiver from the difference in temperature. My body, slickered in cold sweat, exposed to the rain-chilled cabin. The fire down below had gone out long ago and not even a demonic glow lit the cabin. Just the ghostly green glow of the alarm clock and a bit of ambient light from the moon outside.

“It stopped raining.”

“It did.” He used the washcloth and the dry side of my tee to wipe my body dry. Cold sweat is a fucker and it always leaves me feeling sick and exhausted. That was how I felt. Sick and exhausted and embarrassed to boot.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

His lips found my shoulder, kissed it. “For what?”

“For this? For…”


I felt that punched feeling in my gut and nodded. “Yes.”

“Weren’t you just telling me that it was just being human.”


“That’s just what you tell others, not yourself?”

“Is this therapy?” I snorted, trying to put him off topic.

“Isn’t fucking always therapy?”

That shut me up. I put my arms up when he told me to and he slid a new soft tee down over my head. He pressed something into my hand and I realized it was a hair elastic. I quickly braided my hair into one big sloppy braid and tied it off.

“Come on, Aurelia. It’s my turn to hold you.”

I curled in and let him hold me, pressing my ear to the pounding signal of his heart. He was alive. I was alive. We were on the road. My old life, the stifling life, was behind me for the moment and if I ever chose to return to it—if—I could change the way it played out.

The thought was both energizing and terrifying. For a second, I could not draw a breath but his hand settled possessively on my hip and I found the air.

I fitted the length of myself to him and when he kissed my head, I turned my face, turning the kiss into something more than chaste.

“You don’t have to fuck me to make me feel better.”

“You don’t have to fuck me to make me feel better,” I countered.

And then he was removing the shirt he had just slipped over my head. I pushed him back. “I’m fucking you, remember?”

He laughed, it touched something in me, making me wetter than I was. Making me want him that much more. I straddled his lean hips, feeling—more than seeing—him under my legs, under my hands. I ran my fingers along the taut terrain of his chest, squeezed his biceps, felt the hardening length of his cock between my legs.

When I leaned over him to kiss him, he grasped my braid in his hand, holding me tight so he could assault my mouth with his. I sighed against his neck, moved my body so my pussy ground against him. This was all so languid and intimate and slow. It was like fucking underwater and I smiled in the dark.

I parted myself and slid the head of his cock along my slick opening without pushing down enough to let him in. I heard his breathing amp up, felt the ragged gallop of his heartbeat under my palm where I braced myself.

“Put me in you, Really,” he said.

“No,” I said, testing him.

I rocked my hips from side to side, adding friction and kissing him harder. I pressed my breasts to his chest and felt the heat that baked off of him in waves. I had been so cold and damp just moments before and now I felt feverish.

“Put me in you, Really,” he said again, his voice darker. His mood had sharp angles and edges that I could sense.

“No,” I said, pressing my lips against his ear. Licking the curved edge of his lobe, I rolled my hips so my pussy pressed to his cock and my body pinned him to the bed. I sat up just a bit, but he still held my hair. He was trapped under me, held down by my weight and my want.

Johnny tugged my braid and I gasped. He used it like a leash to reel me in so that I was right up close to him again. “Put me in, Really. Please,” he said. This time he was pressing his lips to my ear. He was whispering his words right into my mind.

It was the please I had been trying for. He thought he’d shown me trust before, and in a way he had. But asking me for something. Asking me with kind words and a soft voice. That was real trust to Johnny, I thought. And now that he’d given it to me, I could move forward.

I pushed the tip of him to me again—wet, I was so fucking wet—and lowered myself onto him. Those big hands of his claiming my hips as he filled me. His body pressing every secret buried spot I needed. I heard him say my name in a way I’d never heard before as I started to move.