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Sommer Marsden talks about Her New Release, HAUNTED: A Labor of Love

Ferris Wheel

It’s my pleasure to welcome a fabulous storyteller and one of my very favourite people, Sommer Marsden, to my place today to celebrate the release of her latest novel, Haunted, which is truly a labour of love.

*****

This was not an easy blog to write. Which is why I made poor KD wait for it. For that, I apologize.

It mainly comes from the fact that I love my new book Haunted. I love it because it contains characters that are damaged but resilient. I love that it is all about the healing hope of love and perseverance. I love that it contains a story line that practically wrote itself. And I love it because it was the last book I wrote while my husband Jim was still alive.

In fact, I finished it about a week before he passed. The entirety of the book was written in the midst of 24/7 caregiving. Bad sleep hours. Bad days. Hard days. Difficult and sad times. But like the characters, I decided to cling to what saved me when I was in a bad way—for me that’s writing.

So, I wrote. I wrote the entire book in our bedroom at his bedside. I wrote while he slept or was too zoned out on morphine to have a conversation. I paused writing when he’d say, “What ya writing, baby?” to tell him. I paused when he needed me.

Considering all that could be considered bad memories, in a way, I adore this book. The male lead Maddox, like all my wonderful male characters, is rooted in my husband’s personality, his ways, his kindness, his understanding and his love. For that reason alone it would be worth loving. But another reason I cherish Haunted is that when I see the book I feel his energy. His devotion. His support. I remember that without Jim I never would have fulfilled my goal to become a full-time writer. He put his faith in me, took the main ‘bread-winner’ role for a time, and gave me the shot to write for a living.

And I flourished.

So yeah, it’s a ghost story. It has scary bits, and loving bits, and sexy bits, and healing bits. But above all that, it’s the last book written while the love of my life was still with me. It’s dedicated to him (as all my books are) and it makes me remember those last few precious days with him. So, I guess you could say that Haunted haunts me but in a lovely way. A way that allows me to remember how incredibly lucky I was to have that man in my life for nineteen years. And that makes it precious to me.

For those of you who’ve read it and reviewed it, thank you! And to those of you who are considering it, thank you, also. I’m very proud of this book, and the man who made it so that I could write books, which is all I’ve ever wanted to do. <3

XOXO

Sommer

 

Ferris Wheel

 

Two people lost and alone in life searching for answers…

Maddox visits abandoned sites to take photographs and figure out his future. He haunts the places that are monuments to the way he feels inside. Stark, empty, raw. And Olyvia searches for answers to her own painful loss by hunting ghosts. Trying to comfort herself by seeking proof of an afterlife.

One haunted amusement park with a dark history…

Maddox and Olyvia recognize kindred souls in one another. But a chance to fully explore their connection is a luxury they may not have. There’s a ghost stalking Screamland hell-bent on revenge. And it’s targeting them. 

 

Excerpt:

“Wait,” he said. It killed Maddox to draw away from her. Her thighs were wrapped around his waist, her body hot against his. But he had to. “Right back.”

He moved across the room and found his bag. In the inside zippered pocket were condoms. He grabbed one and moved back to her, his socks whispering across the dirty floor. It had grown chillier in the room, but he didn’t care. Not a lick.

She leaned on one elbow watching him—her face a little less sad, her smile a little less haunted. “Always prepared, I see.”

“My dad wouldn’t let me join the boy scouts,” he said. “But I read the handbook.” He returned to her, pressing himself back against her and kissing her whiskey-tainted lips.

“Wouldn’t let you?”

“Nope. Said I quit things too often.”

She shook her head. “Stupid,” she said. “I think kids should be allowed to explore and decide.”

He pushed her red-red bangs off her face and kissed her forehead. “Brilliant plan.” Maddox ground his cock against her, feeling the bite of the thick seam of her jeans. He imagined her, hot and wet and flushed beneath. His cock ached with the thought of her. With the idea of being with someone. Especially, this oddball, forthright, sensitive woman.

He’d never have given her a second glance in a bar. The whole dark clothes, bright hair, sad look…and she probably wouldn’t have even given him a first glance. On the outside they didn’t work. Not at all. On the inside, it was like finding a kindred spirit. A shadow the exact  same shape, darkness and density as himself.

She pushed his shoulders back, raised herself up slightly, and tugged her tee over her head. Beneath it, she wore a plain white bra with just a hint of lace along the tops of the cups, and he thought it was possibly the sexiest undergarment he’d ever seen. Simply because it was on her.

He worked the front clasp, and when it parted, he pushed back the cups revealing small, pert breasts with pale pink nipples. He stared at her for a moment, mesmerized by the small caramel colored freckles that dotted her chest. When he saw her take a shuddery breath, he shook his head and sighed. “You’re gorgeous, you know?”

Before she could answer, he sucked one of Olyvia’s nipples into his mouth. He swirled his tongue, feeling the soft skin pebble. He sucked and sucked again, and when she started to tremble he gently used his teeth. Her body arched up to meet his, her fingers tangled in his hair.

 

Buy Haunted Here:

Excessica

Amazon US

Amazon UK

All Romance Ebooks 

 

About Sommer:

Sommer Marsden has been called “…one of the top storytellers in the erotica genre” (Violet Blue), “Unapologetic” (Alison Tyler) and “…the whirling dervish of erotica” (Craig J. Sorensen).

Her erotic novels include Restricted Release, Restless Spirit, Learning to Drown, and Boys Next Door. Sommer currently writes erotica and erotic romance for Xcite Books, HarperCollins Mischief, Excessica, Pretty Things Press and Resplendence Publishing. The wine-swigging, dachshund-owning, wannabe-runner lives in a little house in a little town near Baltimore, Maryland. Her fiction runs the gamut from bondage to zombies to humor.

Sommer’s short works can be found in well over a hundred and twenty-five(and counting) erotic anthologies. Her short stories have also been included numerous adult and romance magazines–both in print and online.

Visit Sommer at Unapologetic Fiction by visiting http://sommermarsden.blogspot.com or find her on social media.

 

 

 

Werewolves: Scary or Sexy by Sommer Marsden (@sommer_marsden)

thingsthatgohump300x200When I was growing up werewolves were definitely scary. They were never portrayed as hot, buff men with raging libidos and a secret tender side. There were only Werewolf in London werewolves. And then, eventually, in the 80s, we got Teen Wolf werewolves. But a lot of time when werewolves were mentioned, they brought to mind the Wolfman. And that wasn’t sexy.

Boy, how far we’ve come. We have hot werewolves everywhere in fiction and in TV shows. I’m a happy girl. I’ve always been more about claws than fangs (not that werewolves don’t have fangs, mind you, but I’m referring to the vamp versus wolf debate). I want warm and hard and fast and strong not cool and smooth. I guess, technically, they share the fast and strong thing. Okay, you got me.

I came up with the idea of Ellis Bach on a walk. His name was a magician’s trick performed by my brain triggered by a sign for local politics. I took the last name of one man—Ellis and the last named, which I truncated, of another—Bach(man).

And once I had the name my imagination took off. What it supplied me with, all those years ago, was a handsome, big, kind wolf who had a past. Physically, Ellis was inspired by Scott Conant, celebrity chef, because—truth be told—writers and chefs are my rock stars. I gave him the same hair of indeterminate color—sometimes brown, sometimes red, sometimes a bit of a lighter shade shines through. And I gave him his soul mate—Ruby.

Talking about Ellis brings to mind a few of my favorite werewolves now. You can’t go four feet without tripping over them—it’s true. I’ll name just a few:

Alcide on True Blood. Um…yeah. What’s not to like?

Derek Hale on Teen Wolf. Yes, please!

Isaac on Teen Wolf. I must say, when I found out the actor who played him was 26 I was relieved. Because a girl could feel like a weirdo crushing on a teen wolf. But he’s not a teen so…whew.

Scott on Teen Wolf (yeah, yeah, we watch a loooooot of Teen Wolf)

Garrett from my book Base Nature. Yeah, it’s cheating but I wrote him because I lusted after him, so technically it’s cool.

Lucian from Underworld. See, now I would have, upon a glance, cast him as a vamp. Until I really started to pay attention and then…Yeah!

George from Being Human. I must admit to loving that girly pitch his voice hits when he’s startled. It’s brilliant considering he’s a bad ass killer when he sprouts fur.

Josh from Being Human (USA version). Adorbs.

Jake Marlow from Glen Duncan’s The Last Werewolf. The grittiest of all listed. And I love it.

 

Those are mine. For now, I’ll leave you with a blurb and a passage and wish you a Happy Halloween. Be on the lookout for big, furry men with glowing eyes and bulging pecs. If you see one, by all means, call me!

 

XOXO

Sommer

*****

Big BadBlurb:

Lust according to Ruby:

You read those books where they explain it all away. They make it fine with rationalization. But what if I just want to? What if that’s my whole reason? My life is not a romance novel. I don’t need justification. I’m a grown woman who knows what she wants.

I want Ellis. And I want Tyler.

And I won’t apologize…

What’s worse than wanting both your best friend who’s a vampire and the just-back-in-town alpha werewolf you find yourself fixated on? Finding out that the werewolf in question wants you, too. But he isn’t too keen on the sharing part. Oh, and by the way, you’re his dead mate.

Okay, okay, dead is harsh—reincarnated.

What’s worse than that? Realizing that you believe the whole crazy tale of reincarnation. Because it seems to be true.

And yet you still want them both—together. Vampire and werewolf and you in the middle. Stuck between two predators who want you and only you. To complicate it all, you find out that you can have it. With your new/old mate’s blessing. But just one time before he claims you as his.

Are you brave enough to take it? That one shot?

Well…Are you?

*****

EXCERPT:

“I need to go back,” I whispered.

Ellis gave a short nod. He looked a lot of things at that moment. Happy, sad, angry, determined. His personality was so big, his presence so huge. He scared me on so many levels and many of them good. In a moment of impulse, I turned and kissed him. Pressing my hands—shaking and freezing in fingerless grey gloves as if they could help me—to his rough cheeks.  I held his face as I kissed him. He growled low in his throat. A constant drone of aggression and want as a back beat to the kiss. Ellis grasped my hips with strong fingers, sank them in so I worried I’d bruise—hoped I’d bruise.

Without thinking, I clasped my hands behind his neck and brought my legs up to wrap his waist. He had only three inches on me and maybe thirty pounds. He was strapping and burly but not bulky, I was curvy and solid but not fat. Our bodies pressed together in the perfect meld and I felt the hard ridge of his cock pressed the cleft of my pussy.

“You’d better stop or I’m taking you right here,” he said. His voice was rough and righteous and I believed him beyond a shadow of a doubt.

I stroked my tongue down over his and tugged the finer hairs at the nape of his neck and the growl turned dangerous. He started to move, to lay me down and I let go of him—falling away as quickly as I had latched on.

“Not yet, not yet!” I said, my hands up in mock surrender.

“Ruby,” he drew the word out and made it sound dirty and sexy and fine.

“I’m sorry. I am. Soon. I will. I just—” I didn’t know what so I shook my head instead of finishing that sentence.

“I can smell the lust on you. It’s thick and smells like lilacs.” When he grinned at me, I wanted to change my mind.

“I know you can.”

“I don’t scare you being a lycan but my want of you does?”

“And the whole dead mate thing,” I said, turning so fast my coat swept open for an instant. I hurried through the dry and brittle grass with Ellis right on my heels.

“Why are you drawn to me? Certainly not because I came into your store and bought sausage as Tyler explained.”

I snorted, shaking my head. How stupid that sounded but in a way it was true. “That’s when you caught my attention. That’s when I started…” I blew out a breath.

“Coveting me?” he chuckled, taking three big steps and grabbing my hand in his big warm one. Heat baked off of him like I was standing close to an oven or a grill. It felt good, that heat. I swore I could smell him even above the cold winter wind. He smelled like a man. Campfires and tobacco and earth.

“Coveting, yes.” My hood flew back off my head and my hair rose up. Tendrils got caught up in the wind and swirled around my head.

“But you want Tyler too,” he said and tugged me so I had to stop.

“Yes, not as…” I stared at my beat up boots until he pushed my chin up with his fingers.

“Not as…?”

I had been about to say not as much as you but realized that wasn’t so accurate. More like “In a different way.”

“He’s your friend?”

I nodded, pushing my unruly hair back even as the wind yanked it away and tossed it asunder again.

“But you want to fuck him?” He grinned.

I felt a stain of embarrassment flood my cheeks but I forced my shoulders back and my head high. “Yes,” I said defiantly.

“Okay. I can live with that. For now.”

I wanted to ask Ellis why the hell I would care if he could live with it. But I did. Why I’d want his approval. But I did. And why it mattered that he accepted it. But it did.

So I simply nibbled my bottom lip until he pulled my hood up and pressed my hair under it. He kissed my nose and said “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

 

Buy Links

Excessica | Barnes & Noble | All Romance eBooks | Amazon UK | Amazon US

bigbadposter

*****

Bio

Professional dirty word writer, gluten free baker, sock addict, fat wiener dog walker, expert procrastinator. That sums it up.

Sommer Marsden has been called “…one of the top storytellers in the erotica genre” (Violet Blue), “Unapologetic” (Alison Tyler), “…the whirling dervish of erotica” (Craig J. Sorensen),and “Erotica royalty…” (Lucy Felthouse). Her erotic novels include Restricted Release, Restless Spirit, Boys Next Door, and the Zombie Exterminator series. Sommer currently writes for Ellora’s Cave, Xcite Books, Harper Collins Mischief, Pretty Things Press, Excessica and Resplendence Publishing.

You can find Sommer’s short works in well over one hundred and twenty-five (and counting) erotic anthologies. Visit her at Unapologetic Fiction http://sommermarsden.blogspot.com

Media Links

Blog: http://sommermarsden.blogspot.com

Twitter: @sommer_marsden

Facebook: http://facebook.com/sommermarsden

Goodreads: http://goodreads.com/sommer_marsden

Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/sommermarsden

*****

GIVEAWAY!

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A Snog for Sommer

Snog for Sommer fundraiserasnogforsummer

As you all know, Victoria and Kev Blisse love a bit of Smut for good over at Blisse towers –and really, who doesn’t?  And what is better than getting sexy and contributing to a good cause? Doing that and have it help out someone you know.

I’ve known and adored Sommer Marsden and her fabulously smutty stories since I first began writing erotica. Sommer  is a fantastically talented erotic romance author. Check out her blog, pick up a book or three. You won’t regret it!

HTTP://SOMMERMARSDEN.BLOGSPOT.CO.UK

Not only is she very talented she’s an all-round lovely lady. Anyone who’s had the pleasure to interact with her will tell you.

At the moment Sommer’s family are going through a really challenging time, her husband is fighting pancreatic cancer and it is putting a strain on then in many ways. What I’m hoping we can do with our Snog for Sommer is to help take a little of the financial strain off their shoulders.

So, how do you join in? Well, anyone is welcome to donate by following the link  http://smutforgood.co.uk/a-snog-for-sommer/ for details on how to donate and links to all the sexy, smutty snogs for Sommer.

Whatever you can manage will be gratefully received, thank you so very, very much!

 

And now here’s a sizzling snog from Grace Marshall’s novel, Identity Crisis. Enjoy!

 

Identity Crisis Blurb:

Book Two of the Executive Decision Trilogy (Click Here for Book One | Book Three)

PR rep extraordinaire, Kendra Davis, is elated when she gets the chance to work for her hero, reclusive, romance novelist, Tess Delaney. Her elation is short-lived when she discovers that Tess is none other than Garrett Thorne, the bad-boy brother of business tycoon and eco-warrior, Ellison Thorne, who is engaged to her best friend, Dee Henning. Kendra blames Garrett for the comedy of errors that nearly destroyed their relationship. Garrett doesn’t like Kendra either, but he’s desperate. His alter-ego, Tess has been nominated for the prestigious Golden Kiss Award. No one knows who Tess really is, and he needs Kendra to play Tess for the awards.

When Tess is stalked by a rabid fan, the two unite to protect her identity. With Kendra, the body and Garrett the soul of Tess Delaney, is there room in this strange ménage for romance? Can a woman who doesn’t exist understand their hearts even better than they do?

 

Identity Crisis Excerpt:

Once the limo pulled away from the curb, Garrett pried the award gently from her fingers, then hefted its weight. ‘I’d say the bastard was damn lucky he got the mousse in the crotch instead of the Rodin up side of the head.’

Kendra forced a pained laugh, in spite of herself, and he could tell her control was near the breaking point, but he didn’t care. He didn’t!
As the anger dissipated slightly from her face, she took a careful breath and said. ‘Garrett, you should have let me handle it. I’ve had to deal with gropers and droolers and all sorts, and I know what an asshole Blessing is. I was ready for him. Really I was. But you forced my hand. Damn it, you forced my hand.’ Her grip on the leather arm rest was white-knuckled, and Garrett was pretty sure it was in attempt to keep from punching him good. ‘You should have let me handle it. That’s my job, Garrett, that’s what you’re paying me for, and frankly I –’

IC new cover‘Shut up, Kendra.’ He risked life and limb by stopping her words with a hard kiss, followed in quick succession by several more. The wild and furious battle between her tongue and his came as a total surprise. When they both pulled away in a breathless gasp, he said, ‘I’m sorry. I fucked up. I couldn’t stand him touching you. If you hadn’t moussed him I might have done something that would have required my brother to bale me out of jail, and that would have completely ruined Tess’s evening.’

‘That wasn’t my plan, Garrett. The mousse wasn’t my plan, and now we can’t foresee the consequences of what I did.’

‘Kendra, you only did what every writer in that room and all the writers watching from home wanted to do. I can’t imagine the consequences of your actions being anything but good. You were stunning and amazing. And right now I want you so badly I can hardly stand it.’

For a second Kendra froze, her whole body tensing, her eyes locked on his. The only sound was their heavy breathing above the soft purr of the limo engine. Garrett was sure this was the point at which he got slapped again. He held his breath.

At last she found her voice. ‘That makes two of us,’ she whispered.

Before he had time to wonder if he’d heard her right, she scooted and wriggled her way onto his lap, scrunching the skirt of the dress, exposing the silken flesh of her thighs between stocking tops and a gold lace garter belt. He caught a flash of matching panties that were barely there. Then she straddled him, and the heat of her against the uncomfortable expansion in the front of his tux trousers was exquisite.

His mouth vied for position with the golden pendent in the soft swell of her cleavage. He nuzzled away the silken smoothness of the dress to get to the rounded hillocks of her breasts, far more silken than the dress, high and tight and crested with ripe fruit nipples that grew impossibly erect at his caressing. And when he took them into his mouth in turn, she gave a little gasp and shivered against him, curling her fingers in his hair.
Deftly she managed his belt and his fly and shoved up so that her knees supported her on the leather seat either side of his thighs. He wriggled his trousers and boxers down over his hips, releasing himself into the stroke and grip of her hand, which caused an involuntary groan that began low in his belly as he ground his ass against the seat beneath them.

From somewhere she produced a condom even before he could get to the one stuffed in his pocket just in case. As she rolled it onto him, he pushed aside the crotch of her panties, and she whimpered at his touch, gripped at his fingers as he stroked her open and circled the swell of her with his thumb. Then with a shifting of her hips, she rose up into position and squatted onto him, settling down tight and wet and sweeter than anything.
For a second she sat very still atop him, fully impaled, her bright eyes burning into him in the scant light of the limo. Then her lips curled into a bow of a smile and she said. ‘Here’s to Tess Delaney, the winner of the Golden Kiss.’ And she began to shift and undulate against him as he thrust up to meet her like his life depended on it, like he’d never get another chance, like being inside her was the best thing ever, and at the moment, that was pretty much the truth. Kendra Davis riding him hard, surely this must be the end of the world, but he could happily live with that.

They strained and shifted and grasped bathed in the strobe of the passing night lights of Portland. The leather seat creaked in the hard friction of expensive clothing and exposed bare flesh, in the grip and release, thrust and stroke of need born of excitement and anger and some sort of wild animal magnetism. They came together, trembling and gasping and holding tight.

They barely had time to tuck and tidy before the limo arrived at his house. He didn’t ask if she wanted to come in. He wasn’t about to give her the chance to say no, and now that he’d been with her, he was sure one dose of Kendra Davis was nowhere near enough to cure what ailed him. To his relief, no manhandling was necessary. She followed him willingly up the porch steps, pausing to offer him a hug and a caress from behind while he unlocked.

As he opened the door and turned on the light in the foyer, she slid a hand under his jacket to caress his ass, which had the exact effect on his cock he figured she was aiming for. He turned and trapped her against the door capturing her mouth with his, cupping the rise and fall of her, delighting in the hard and soft of her. In mid-kiss, she reached behind her, unzipped her gown and let it slide down her body, almost slow motion, almost as though it intended to caress each inch of her bared flesh all the way to the floor.

She wore no bra, and it was perfect that she didn’t. It would have been such a shame to put any more clothing on those exquisite breasts than absolutely necessary. She stood before him in only the gold lace garter belt, stockings and panties and the gold fuck-me heels that made her legs look like they went on forever before they joined her body in the scant swaddling of gold and lace. Jesus, she was a sight to behold!
Still holding his gaze, she removed a gold clasp from her hair and it fell in a cascade of mussed copper around her shoulders.

He wound a soft fall of curls around his fingers and reeled her in until he could taste her breath, until he could possess her lips and her mouth and her breasts. While he traced the pathway along the well-muscled length of her spine, she shoved his jacket off his shoulders to puddle on the floor next to her dress, never missing a beat in the tango of their tongues. ‘I want to undress you, Garrett. I want to see you. All of you. So hold still.’

‘Christ you’re a bossy woman,’ he grumbled half-heartedly.

‘You don’t know the half of it,’ she said as she pushed his hands away from her breasts and deftly undid his bowtie. And he obeyed her. Kendra Davis exploring him, touching him, unwrapping him like he was her Christmas present made the weight already heavy in his groin feel nearly unbearable. And yet it felt way too intriguing for him not to hold on to as long as he could, to hold on to for her, until she wanted it all for herself, and he was sure that would be soon.

She undid his shirt and shoved it off, doing battle with his cuff links until together they managed to free his arms. Then she suckled and nibbled until his nipples were raw and achingly hard and outrageously sensitive to the air that felt cool against them once they were no longer kept warm by her mouth. But her mouth, led by the scrape and nip of her teeth and the laving of her hot tongue held his full attention as she nibbled and licked her way down his belly. She paused to probe his sensitive navel with her tongue before she undid his trousers, then squatted in front of him as she eased them down over his hips. He toed off his shoes and, there positioned in front of him, perched on suicide heels, legs open, her face only scant millimeters from his erection, she slid both trousers and boxers off one leg at a time. When at last he stepped free of his clothing, she tossed them aside with the rest of their party finery and cupped him and stroked him until he bit his lip and struggled to hold himself. Then she cupped his butt cheeks in her palms and pulled him to her, taking the heavy length of him into her mouth.

‘Jesus, Kendra!’ He sucked air between his teeth ‘I can’t stand that for very long.’

‘I bet you can stand it longer than you think,’ she breathed.

‘Fuck,’ he said, curling his fingers in her hair. ‘Is this some kind of challenge?’

‘Just an observation.’ Her eyes were wide, her pupils dilated and her cheeks were flushed as she pulled away and slipped off her panties from her squatting position. Then she lay back on the floor and motioned him to her.
He fumbled in the pocket of his jacket for the condom. This time, she made no attempt to help him, but only lie there watching him, shifting her hips, making sure he knew exactly what she wanted. It didn’t take him long. Then he stretched out on top of her, feeling the silk of her stockings Snog for Sommer fundraiserasnogforsommer-buttonrise along his ribs as she lifted her hips. He cupped her and shifted until there was contact, right where they needed it. They both moaned as he entered her thrusting, and she wrapped her legs around him, still wearing her shiny shoes, still wearing stockings and garter belt. And she was outrageously warm and wet and needy. She gripped him as though she would consume him, and he rode her as though he might never get another chance. A possibility all too likely, he figured, but he didn’t want to think about that now, not while they were together like this, not while they were reveling in Tess’s success and celebrating their own conquest of a difficult situation. He didn’t want to think about that now while there was time to be with Kendra Davis, more vulnerable than he’d ever seen her nor would be likely to see her again. He expected nothing else. Just now. That would have to be enough. At least that’s what he told himself.

 

Follow this link to donate and to find links to all of the other snogs for Sommer:

http://smutforgood.co.uk/a-snog-for-sommer/

 

What’s in a Name? Sommer Marsden is Foiled Again with Restricted Release

It’s always a pleasure to have Sommer Marsden over at mine. Today she’s talking about her latest novel, Restricted Release and name problems. Welcome, Sommer!

Restricted ReleaseI would like to go on the official erotica record and say that I wrote Restricted Release two summers ago (almost typed sommers, no lie). Two summers ago The Doctor’s companions were Amy Pond and Rory. Just saying…

Why am I just saying? Because Clara, my Clara in RR, is not based on the Impossible Girl.

I said to my kids when Clara arrived, “You just know people are going to say I got my Clara’s name from Doctor Who.” [frownie face]

Non-Whovians are currently sitting here wondering what the hell I’m talking about.

I will barrel on nonetheless.

I wrote Restricted Release over the summer, and my original plans for it were to publish it in print only as a December Ink title. I had my own crazy reasons, I won’t go into them. But I wanted to choose a name for my heroine that was a bit old fashioned. Clara won. Mostly because I knew a Miss Clara growing up and hadn’t heard the name in ages.

Hmph.

Until Doctor Who found her, that is.

Now this happened to me with the name Bella. I used it in a story and tada! Suddenly, Bella Bella everywhere. Twilightapalooza and the name is ruined for us all.

Fortunately, Clara is not nearly as famous as Bella, but still. Can you believe that luck? So I just wanted to say that on the record. I had it first. I have another book with an old fashioned-y kind of name in it. I’m crossing my fingers and wishing upon a star that I won’t see it in anything else, but seriously, not holding my breath. It wouldn’t work anyway.

XOXO

Sommer

Blurb:

Clara is the recovering anorexic who’s nearly become a shut-in after the end of her emotionally abusive marriage. Matt is the new boy next door. Graphic artist, nice guy, funny…accepting of Clara.  She wants him, he wants her—but Clara is afraid.

Nadia is the stand-in—Matt’s idea, Clara’s challenge to accept. A longtime friend of Matt’s, she’s a sexual surrogate intended to guide Clara until she’s not afraid of Matt’s desire for her or hers for him. Twosomes become threesomes, watching becomes touching and lust becomes love.

When Matt moved in next door, lust was the last thing Clara expected. Two lovers never crossed her mind. And the need to make a choice was something she thought she’d never encounter. But she’s bolder now, healing, and everything has changed. And a choice must be made, no matter how hard.

An Excerpt From: RESTRICTED RELEASE:

We sat in the center of his box-cluttered living room floor on a large blanket. Around us was scattered some leftover takeout, cheese, crackers, a box of lemon cookies, mixed nuts, olives, pickles and a bottle of wine.

“This should be disgusting,” he said, eating a pickle with a piece of cheese on a cracker.

“But it‘s so, so good,” I said, eating my own cracker with cheese. I ate it in small nibbles because my stomach was electric.

“Really?” He cocked his head. “Because you barely seem to be eating.” He touched my leg with his bare foot. He was warm.

“I‘m eating.” I pulled the sweatshirt he‘d draped over me close to my body. Besides his sweatshirt, I wore my white slouchy socks and we‘d located my panties.

He held out a box of cookies. “I’m good,” I said.

Matt studied me. “I‘m not as dumb as I look, you know.”

I ate the rest of my cracker and took a sip of wine. It was nice. It had that whiskey aftertaste I usually hate and yet I didn‘t this time. There was enough of a fruity burst in it to temper the oak. “I don‘t think you look dumb at all. I think you look really smart,” I said.

I hoped he didn‘t hear the mixture of annoyance and anxiety in my voice. I wanted to get past the food thing.

No chance.

“So tell me, mysterious neighbor. Why do you seem to be a person who sticks very close to home? Why do you seem so…gun-shy? Is that a good description?”

I tried to nod but my head barely moved.

“I know why I‘ve been a monkish man for almost a year. Why have you been Sister Clara Barrett?”

I cleared my throat. “I don‘t know.”

He cocked his head and then cut his eyes away. He tried to make it look nonchalant, but I knew what he was doing. He was giving me a moment to consider the situation.

“Really?”

“I…”

Matt held up a hand, looking me right in the eye so I felt totally naked. For a crazy moment I felt as if there were no barriers between what was inside of me and what was inside of him. He said, “You were bold enough this morning to straight up tell me you wanted to have sex with me.”

I opened my mouth but he kept that silencing hand up and I shut my mouth with an audible snap. His fingers slipped beneath my sock, circled my ankle and he said very softly, “Please let me finish before you throw up your security fences and barriers.”

My throat was tight. I nodded.

“You were bold enough to watch me in my bathroom. When I probably could have spotted you at any time, and I sorta kind of did at the end there. And…” He squeezed my ankle and the pressure went right to my pussy. “You were bold enough to come over here on a…” He chuckled. “Booty call.”

I made a small noise of protest but then laughed. Our laughter mingled and I felt a rightness I couldn‘t remember feeling. It scared the shit out of me.

“But you won‘t tell me what your history is, Clara?” He didn‘t say it to belittle me. I could tell he wasn‘t angry. It was simply a question to help him understand. And that made me tell him.

I finished my wine in three big gulps and leaned back on my hands, keeping my legs in crisscross-applesauce fashion.

“I was married.” I picked at a loose thread on my sock and then looked at him. His eyes were amazing. Gorgeous and kind and deep—if they were the windows to Matt Millen’s soul, his soul was a wonder of the Universe.

“I‘m going to say this in one big breath and get it over with, okay?” I said, feeling my eyes sting a little. I willed myself not to cry. I could not cry. That would be stupid. That bad part of my life was over. I needed to move past it.

“Okay,” Matt said. His hand stayed around my ankle, loose but comforting. He wasn‘t eating or drinking, but he wasn‘t poking or prodding either. He was waiting. Listening. Paying attention.

“I was married to a man who wasn‘t…nice.” I shrugged but it felt like I was being blasé about something that was anything but. So I stilled my body and went on, willing myself to be strong. “He didn’t beat me or anything. But he carved me up emotionally. My sister Cat once said it would have been better if he had beaten me.” My voice had gotten small. My stomach hurt.

His eyes flashed with anger but he kept his face schooled. “And why is that?”

I blew out a shuddery breath and whispered. “She said that if he‘d left bruises on me—broke bones—I‘d have known that it was wrong. But as it stood, he got inside my head and…” I tapped my temple. “Fucked with me. He played on my biggest fears and weaknesses to control me. It‘s like in those books where you read about demons and possession and Hell,” I laughed. “He infiltrated my brain and he trapped me with my own fear.”

Matt sighed and popped an olive in his mouth. “I‘m going to go out on a limb here, slim lady, and say one of your issues is food and body image?”

My cheeks heated and I nodded, saying nothing at all. I had to fight the urge to cover myself with his sweatshirt. To pull it down over my knees and hide myself in it. It was a war I still waged most days, even thought I was alone about 80 percent of the time.

He watched me. He was waiting.

*****

Inside scoop: Clara’s healing includes a hot woman who wants to show her how desirable she is, as well as f/m/f menagés.

Restricted Release Available from:
Amazon UK
Amazon US
All Romance eBooks
Ellora’s Cave

*****

About Sommer Marsden

Sommer Marsden’s been called “…one of the top storytellers in the erotica genre” (Violet Blue), “Unapologetic” (Alison Tyler), “…the whirling dervish of erotica” (Craig J. Sorensen),and “Erotica royalty…” (Lucy Felthouse).

Her erotic novels include Restricted Release, Restless Spirit, Boys Next Door, and Learning to Drown. Sommer currently writes erotica and erotic romance for Xcite Books, eXcessica, Ellora’s Cave, Pretty Things Press, Resplendence Publishing and Mischief Books. The wine-swigging, dachshund-owning, wannabe runner author writes work that runs the gamut from bondage to zombies to humor.

Sommer’s short works can be found in well over one hundred (and counting) erotic anthologies. Her short stories have also been included numerous adult and romance magazines–both in print and online. Visit her at Unapologetic Fiction http://sommermarsden.blogspot.com

 

Inventing Herself by Sommer Marsden

Inventing HerselfSophie Calhoun has a good job writing for a hot women’s magazine. Her latest assignment is to do an article about how a strong, confident woman can look deeper into herself to find her centre. The only problem is Sophie feels lost. On a whim one morning, looking for the answers to her unwritten article and the silent turmoil in her heart, she takes a hike. In the wilderness she finds a very large man sitting alone, calm and still and smiling – everything Sophie wants to be. When he opens his eyes and that smile is directed at her, Sophie begins to find herself…

Available from:
Amazon UK
Amazon US

*****

Excerpt:

‘Now we move into downward dog.’ Joel’s rich caramel voice smoothed over Sophie.

If only she could feel gooey and bendy like caramel. Instead, she felt awkward and clumsy. She pushed back with the heels of her hands as she’d been instructed. Tried to “sink” into the stretch with the heels of her feet.

All she could think was what if I slip? What does my ass look like? And, of course, who farted?

Turned out that wasn’t so much of a myth. Someone had let one go and everyone was acting as if it was no big deal at all.

Which, technically, it wasn’t. It was just a fart, after all. Everyone had gas at some point in their lif –
‘You’re drifting,’ Joel said, his voice very close to her. So close it made Sophie go rigid. ‘Let me help you straighten your pose.’

He stepped up between her spread legs and settled his hands on her hips. Then he proceeded to move her a little here, a little there, until the stretch blazed up her calves and the backs of her hamstrings. It blazed somewhere else too, Sophie noticed as he lingered, tweaking her pose.

When he stepped back from between her legs, his hand stayed on her lower back for a beat before being removed. ‘Good,’ Joel said.

He was big and tall and obviously fit. A shock of dark – almost black – hair and grey eyes. His voice was as smoky and sensual as his body.

Sophie felt colour come to her face that had nothing to do with yoga or being inverted. The class lowered slowly to a plank pose and her muscles started to tremble. In her mind’s eye it was easy to put a face to it now. This man, down between her legs, his mouth on her. His fingers separating and skating over her nether lips. Finding her slick opening and plunging deep, curling to tease her G-spot until she gasped. Then taking her own juices, running up to find the needy swell of her clitoris. Circling and circling until plunging back into her cunt to stroke her most secret places again, his mouth sucking, his tongue nudging, licking, licking, licking until …

‘Now lower down into cobra pose,’ Joel said.

Sophie did, but as she did a noise burst out of her. Her body, on the verge actually coming, supplied the small blip and flutter deep inside of an almost orgasm. The sound was half sigh, half moan, and very, very sultry. Way too sultry for muscle stretching.

Joel chuckled softly. ‘Glad to know you’re enjoying class, Sophie. We’re glad to have you.’

She counted the heartbeats until class was over, she was so mortified. When Joel finally told them to stand and everyone gave what seemed to be the customary “Namaste” a woman in green leggings and a bright blue pullover whispered, ‘Don’t feel so bad. He has that effect on most of the newcomers. Once he touches someone … they’re toast.’

Sophie tried to smile and waited to self-combust.

She nearly set a record changing back into her work clothes, but when she came out Joel called out to her.

‘I was wondering –’ he said, sort of grinning at her.

Sophie caught the gaze of the green-legging woman. She was smiling, her look knowing.

‘Could I … call you? Take you out? Bring you wine and woo you with wild yoga tales?’ He smiled at her and the lust that smile inspired struck right down through the centre of her like a lightning bolt.
‘Um, yeah … sure. In fact –’ She broke off, thinking maybe she shouldn’t say what she was about to say. But fuck it. This whole “finding her centre” thing had taken her very close to thinking she was nuts. Might as well act nuts, right? Maybe Joel was that missing something. ‘How about you come to my place tonight. Bring that wine you mentioned and I can make a nice steak or – wait – do you eat meat?’

He nodded, eyes flashing with amusement. ‘I do. But thank you for asking.’

‘Good,’ she hurried on. Yes, this was it. This was a good thing. Maybe she was just in need of a date. Maybe she was just horny. ‘And maybe a salad and whatever. We can just … we can talk. Get to know one another.’

‘It’s a date,’ he said. He gave her his number so she could text her address.

‘Yes. It is a date,’ she said and hurried out of the studio. Kate was going to kill her!

*****

Bio:

Sommer Marsden’s been called “…one of the top storytellers in the erotica genre” (Violet Blue), “Unapologetic” (Alison Tyler), “…the whirling dervish of erotica” (Craig J. Sorensen), and “Erotica royalty…” (Lucy Felthouse).

Her erotic novels include Restless Spirit, Boys Next Door, Big Bad, Learning to Drown, Wanderlust and the Zombie Exterminator series. Sommer currently writes erotica and erotic romance for Xcite Books, eXcessica, Ellora’s Cave, Pretty Things Press, Resplendence Publishing and Mischief Books. The wine-swigging, dachshund-owning, wannabe runner author writes work that runs the gamut from bondage to zombies to humor.

Sommer’s short works can be found in well over one hundred (and counting) erotic anthologies. Her short stories have also been included numerous adult and romance magazines–both in print and online.

 
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