Grace Marshall: The Secret’s Out

I’ve had SUCH a hard time keeping my secret for the past few weeks. In fact, it’s slipped out a couple of times, at least a little bit. But now, I’m very excited that mum’s no longer the word, and I can shout it out with the very first ever blog post on Romance Served Hot.

Hi, I’m Grace Marshall! I’m K D Grace’s more subtle alter-ego. Well, okay, I’m not really that subtle. The only thing I like better than reading a really good hot romance is writing one, and that’s what my new website is all about.

I’m very happy to announce that I’ve signed a contract with Xcite Romance for a sexy, fast-paced, quirky new romance trilogy called Executive Decisions. I’m even happier to announce that Book One of the new trilogy, An Executive Decision, will be served hot and ready for your reading pleasure very soon.

In the meantime, I’m going to tease you with a little blurb and an excerpt. Enjoy!

An Executive Decision Blurb:

Over drinks one night after too many hours at the office, Ellison Thorne’s business partner, Beverly Neumann and his brother Garrett jokingly scheme the Executive Sex Clause, an innovative cure for Ellis’s lack of a love life. They speculate a source of no-strings, stress-free sex in certain employee contracts would raise productivity, minimize stress, and boost creativity for a busy CEO like Ellis. But they were joking, weren’t they?

Enter Dee Henning. Young, hungry, gifted, what Dee lacks in experience, she makes up for in ambition and hard work. Dee is the queen of no-time-for-sex.

When stressful negotiations over a huge project break down, driving Dee and Ellis into each other’s arms, the aftermath is a deal even sweeter than they imagined. Suddenly the Executive Sex Clause no longer seems like a joke. Could it be the ultimate secret weapon for success? And why not, if no one else knows? But secrets seldom remain secret, and Dee and Ellis find out the hard way that there’s no such thing as no strings where the heart is concerned.
Excerpt:

‘I missed her again didn’t I? She’s going to think I’m avoiding her.’ Ellis dropped into the chair in front of Beverly’s desk and flipped absently through the files Dee Henning had just left. ‘It’s not her I’m avoiding, actually, it’s your silly retirement plans.’

‘You won’t be laughing when you come in here some morning and find my desk empty. You’ll be SOL big time, boy.’

He offered her an amused chuckle. ‘Who are you kidding, Beverly? You love this place and you know it. You’re not going to retire. How many false alarms have there been now, three?  Four? I’ve lost count. Face it; you’ll work here until you drop dead.’

‘Believe what you want, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.’ She pulled a manila envelope from the top drawer of her desk and handed it to him.

‘What’s this?’

‘My replacement. Since you won’t help, I’ve taken matters into my own hands. She’s been right under our noses all along.’ She rubbed her hands together with a shiver of anticipation. ‘Come on, humor me.’

Still holding her in a disapproving gaze, he took the envelope as though he half expected it to be booby trapped. He opened the clasp then slid the contents from inside and gave it a glance. ‘Wait a minute. This is a file on Dee Henning. You can’t be serious. You want a head hunter to take over running half of Pneuma Inc?’

‘Don’t be such a snob, Ellis. It’s not like she’ll be taking over tomorrow. I’ll be here to train her up to suit your persnickety standards.’

‘How did you get this information anyway?’ The file was too thick for a simple resume, and some of the pages looked like hand-written notes photocopied. Others were odd sizes, and the whole packaged smacked of Beverly’s scheming.

‘Portland’s a small city.’ Suddenly she seemed particularly interested in the leaves of a thriving Christmas cactus sitting on the edge of her desk.

‘Beverly?’

‘I’m friends with Irv McDowell, okay? At least I think we’re still friends.’ The look of driven-snow innocence gave way to something just slightly this side of devious.

‘You’ve been head-hunting from the head head-hunter? Dee Henning’s Jasper and McDowell’s star recruiter. Surely Irv didn’t give you this willingly.’

Beverly ignored the question and nodded at the photo he now held in his hand.

‘She’s exactly what you need on all counts. She may be only a few years out of grad school, but what impresses me is her accomplishments during that time. She reminds me of you back in the early days – young, hungry, dedicated… And pretty. Don’t give me that look, Ellis, you’d blush if you heard some of the juicy conversations about you I overhear in the ladies’ room.’

He pretended to ignore the photo. ‘Your delusions aside, it doesn’t matter — that she’s good looking, I mean.’

‘And that’s why you’re drooling over the photo? I may be old, Ellis, but there’s nothing wrong with my eyesight.’

He put the picture of Dee aside and flipped through the file. ‘What all do you have in here anyway?’ He read out loud from the photocopied pages. ‘Classically trained, voice and piano? Oh, that’ll come in really handy here at Pneuma Inc. In fact, I was just thinking of requiring it for all new employees.’

‘Stop being an asshole. It’s just background information, just stuff that’s good to know.’

The hand-written notes stated that both of Dee’s parents were musicians. Her father had sung in the chorus for the Paris Opera. Her mother was a soprano, who went to Paris on some summer program, and nine months later Dee came along. Ellis suddenly felt like a voyeur. ‘This is none of our business.’ He tried to shove the file back at Beverly, but she refused it.

‘Oh for chrissake, Ellis, there’s nothing in there I haven’t already wheedled out of the girl over coffee or drinks. Don’t be such a wuss.’

‘I’m sure she didn’t give you the copy of her finances over coffee and drinks.’

‘Oh that. Just tells us that we can’t appeal to her with money alone.’

‘Clearly she doesn’t need it,’ he said. He was surprised to find someone so young had such a good portfolio. She obviously knew how to make money work for her. She wasn’t exactly rich, but give her a few more years, and she would be.

‘My point exactly. Musicians tend to be poor, and I think our Dee has taken it upon herself not to follow in her parents’ footsteps.’

‘If the need ever actually arises for me to interview her, what makes you think she’s even interested in working for me? She’s got a growing career with Jasper and McDowell, and as you said, she’s making very good money.’

Beverly frowned. ‘Jasper and McDowell is a means to an end. Surely you don’t expect someone with her talent to settle in there permanently, do you? It’s the experience of working here with you that will appeal to her. She’s a perfectionist, never does anything half-assed. She’s always striving to be the best. She’s driven, just like you are. Remember that when you interview her.’

He shuffled pages. ‘What did you have to do to get this stuff, tie Irv to a chair and beat him with a tire iron?’

‘It’s amazing what a man will tell you over a couple of drinks.’

‘You got him drunk.’

‘It wasn’t that hard. He never could hold his booze. I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out sooner. She’s perfect for my job.’

Ellis looked down at the resume. ‘She’s not perfect for your job, Beverly. She’s too young, too inexperienced, and this is not even her area of expertise.’

‘The woman’s a head hunter, Ellis. She has to be competent in lots of areas. Besides, we’ve always been risk-takers, and those risks have always paid off. I’ll train her myself, and you’ll see, within a few months she’ll be able to run this place on her own.’

‘An opportunity she’ll never get because you’ll never retire.’

‘Forget about my retirement, Ellis. It’s time. You know it is. We need someone in training for when the inevitable happens.’

He gave up pretending to ignore the photo, which was definitely the nicest thing he’d looked at all day. Short, dark hair framed blue eyes, a straight Roman nose, and a full-lipped smile that suggested competence, with a touch of mischief. So this was what Dee Henning looked like. He’d often wondered.

‘Hire her, Ellis. It’s not just that I’m retiring, but I’m old. Hell I could drop dead anytime, then what?’

‘Oh for chrissakes, Beverly, we both know you’re too damned ornery to die. You’ll outlive me. But I tell you what, if and when you do drop dead, I’ll hire her. Hell, when you drop dead, I’ll give her your job on a silver platter and train her myself, I promise. Now can we get back to running the business here?’

Two weeks later, Beverly had sent him an email from the airport. The last email he got from her before she flew off to Brazil.

Ellis,

Just an addendum to the conversation we had earlier about Dee Henning. I want to make it clear how I feel. I’ve already told you she’s perfect for the position. And if you were ever going to implement the ESC, she’d be the one to do it with – that is if you’ve got the balls.

Dee’s exactly what you need on all counts.  I know you think she lacks experience, but trust me, with the right training, given half a chance, she’ll be brilliant.  Hire her, Ellis. Implement the ESC. Trust me, it’s the perfect strategy, a secret weapon that could make Pneuma Inc even more successful than it already is.  And if anyone could do it, you could.  Do this for me and I can retire and enjoy my dotage.

-Beverly 

Charlotte Stein Tells Us About Her Novella, Restraint

It’s my pleasure to welcome back to A Hopeful Romantic, one of my very favourite authors, Charlotte Stein, who will be telling us about Restraint, her yummy novella from the Xcite’s Secret Library collection, Hungarian Rhapsody Anthology. Welcome back, Charlotte!

Hungarian RhapsodyRestraint came about because of two things: one, Xcite asked me if I’d like to be a part of this fantastic project, and two, I really fancy Armie Hammer and wanted to write a story about him being a repressed maniac. And so I did!

Basically, my hero is all uptight about sex. My heroine is not uptight about sex. Shenanigans then ensue. I have to say, I absolutely loved writing this story – it came quite easily, because as you may or may not know, I love tales about girls teasing guys to the point of insanity.

So there you have it! My contribution to The Secret Library, in a nut shell. Here’s some links for it, if you fancy having a gander yourself:

http://www.amazon.com/The-Secret-Library-Hungarian-Rhapsody/dp/1908262125?&linkCode=waf&tag=wp-amazon-associate-20

http://thesecretlibrary.co.uk/?page_id=8772

http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-hungarianrhapsody-788380-166.html

And I would, because not only am I in this anthology, but so are Justine Elyot and Kay Jaybee. It’s practically a must buy!

And if you’re still unconvinced, go here:

http://thesecretlibrary.co.uk/

How amazing is The Secret Library? Look at those velvety covers! They’re divine.

Excerpt:

‘Artie, just fucking let go of me,’ I say, but he won’t, he won’t. And then somehow it’s just me and him, squirming and thrashing around in the bubbly water, limbs getting tangled, everything getting more and more frantic until…until…

We both go very still, all at once. I don’t mean to. Most of me wants to keep trying to get away, but once I feel the thing that’s very definitely happened I can’t even manage a weak wriggle. And as for him, well…he’s gone beyond rigid and into some state of temporary paralysis.

I turn my head just a little to see if I can make out an expression on his face, but there isn’t one. He’s just blank—so much so that I’d assume he was dead if I couldn’t see the flush creeping up over his cheeks.

And if I didn’t know what the hard thing was, that’s currently pressing right up against me.

He has an erection. Dear God, he has an erection. I can feel it against my thigh, so heavy and so obvious I don’t even need a paradigm shift to figure it out. It’s just there, like a pointed finger:

Artie is turned on. The squirming or the words or fuck knows what has turned him on, and now his big stiff cock is apparently super-glued to your thigh.

‘Okay, well—’ I start, though I’m not sure how. I’m almost grateful he interrupts me, because God only knows what words I would have used to finish that sentence. I thought you were a Eunuch, maybe? I can’t believe you’re actually able to achieve stiffness, perhaps?

I just don’t know, and apparently neither does he.

‘Please don’t say anything,’ he says, but strangely he doesn’t blurt the words out in a mean way. He hardly sounds angry at all, anymore—just mortified. And though that’s perfectly understandable, I can’t help thinking even stranger things, as we lie like that in a sea of bubbles.

I’m practically on my back, over the little plastic seats beneath the water. And he’s almost over me, his legs between mine and his big chest pressed against my breasts. I’ve got one arm around him, though I don’t know when that happened, and the second I shift just a little I realise he’s got an arm around me, too.

We’re almost in some sort of weird embrace. Somehow, we’ve struggled and shifted until we’ve locked our bodies together in a very familiar shape, and the longer this silence goes on for the more obvious that fact becomes.

His hand is pressed to the small of my back. The way that men do when…you know. They want to get a bit of traction and maybe fuck into you harder. And I can feel something in him, too—a kind of tension, vibrating through his body. As though we were in the middle of a good screw and I suddenly told him to stop.

Don’t come yet, I think, mindlessly, and this giant awful thrill spills through me.

What if he is about to come? What if he jerks and spurts all over the insides of his shorts—or even better, all over me? I can’t for the life in me imagine what someone like Artie would look like, if they had an orgasm, but I can feel my mind trying to gather the image together anyway.

That tight, tense face of his, suddenly slack with pleasure. God, that mouth. Would he bite his plump lower lip, maybe squeeze his eyes tight shut? Someone like him would never moan, but the thing is—what if he did?

I’d die. I’d die.

The Story Behind the Story: Maggie Brooke

The Story Behind The Story

It’s a pleasure to welcome a new voice to A Hopeful Romantic today. Welcome Maggie Brooke. I’m very excited to have an Australian Story Behind the Story, and Maggie’s novel, Guided Tour, sizzles in proper Down-Under fashion. If you’ve got AC, now might be a good time to crank it!

The brutal truth about the beginning of the story behind my story is that everybody kept saying, “Sex Sells!” so I finally decided to give it a go. The happy truth is that I love thinking about sex and it turns out it’s really fun to write about, too.

I came up with my female character first because only she could tell me where she was and what sorts of men she fancied. Once I realized that she was a wealthy white woman from Sydney stuck in Darwin then it seemed obvious that her antagonist should be a gorgeous Indigenous man. What would happen when polar opposites collide?

The story started to come unstuck when I tried to write about sex only because I was really liking both my characters and wanted them to connect on a deeper lever–and not just the one you’re thinking about! Louisa was so angry and confused, though, and Warren took such a moral high ground that a romance between the two seemed unlikely.

It was the setting that helped me out there. I have never been any place in the world that gets under my skin like the Australian Outback. The haunting cries of the curlews at night; the myriad of tiny yellow and purple flowers on a landscape where nothing should be able to grow; the wild scent of eucalypt and sand; the nearness of the sun and the number of stars…romance on a stick.

The Guided TourBlurb:

When wealthy Sydney socialite Louisa Smith takes a solo journey to the Northern Territory and gets arrested, she can’t charm or buy her way out of it because Daddy has cut off her credit cards! Stranded, she must work off a Community Service Order by escorting ten juvenile offenders on a guided tour of the Outback designed to teach respect for the territory and its people. This extreme punishment is made worse by her attraction to Warren George, their uptight, moral but absolutely gorgeous Aboriginal tour guide.

Excerpt:

Sitting on a stone at the edge of the camp, I watched the quarter moon climb through more stars than I had ever imagined. I wished Claudia and Suzanne, and even Dalby, could be watching it with me. I’d bet that they didn’t even know a sky could look like this. In a sudden rush of homesickness, I hurried back to the tent and retrieved my iPhone from my boot. I needed to SMS an SOS to somebody–anybody! Returning to my rock, I flipped it open, turned it on and…

Waited for a signal that never came.

I watched the words SEARCHING FOR NETWORK flit back and forth across the screen for five minutes before I gave up and snapped it shut. Outback Australia! I might as well have been on Mars. I tried to find the red planet in the black sky.

The night lay still against my skin, caressing me with an unfamiliar peace and the air smelled…I don’t know…clean. All thoughts of old friends and new enemies soon left my mind. I heard a curlew call, and then another and another, but I didn’t know what was making those haunting sounds and wondered if I should be frightened. As I sat quietly I heard a door close behind me and turned to see Warren leaving the men’s shower block. He had not seen me.

He walked slowly, looking at the sky, wearing only a red sarong tied around his waist. His damp hair curled loosely around his ears and neck. The pale moonlight painted his muscular chest in dark relief and his legs were lithe and supple, the muscles rippling as he walked. He carried a towel and shaving kit and passed close by my stone. I made no sound, didn’t even breathe, but he paused, as if suddenly aware of my presence. He turned slowly to face me, eyebrows raised;  surprised it was me.

“Miss Smith? You’re outside alone?”

“Guilty as charged.” I shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. What’s making that noise?”

“Curlews. The old people say their call is lost souls calling to each other.”

“That’s what it sounds like. Are they dangerous?”

“Of course not, they’re just birds.”

“An emu’s just a bird but I wouldn’t want to get up close and personal with one.” I smiled. It was nice talking to him without rules and kids surrounding us. “Do you take these trips often?”

“This is…” He started to say, but then his eyes dropped to my singlet where those naughty nipples strained against the cloth. He looked up at the stars and frowned. “It’ll be another long day tomorrow,” he said harshly. “You should get back to your tent now.”

His rudeness was uncalled for and my anger rose again, spoiling the night. Then I became aware of another rising. He was standing very close, and his scarcely clothed body was inches from my face–which was level with his groin. His sarong began to dance and gape and I couldn’t take my eyes away. I was mesmerized. He crossed his hands, strategically using the towel and shaving kit to hide his interest and turned away, frowning.

“Go to bed,” he commanded and rushed away to his own tent.

 

Find me:

http://www.maggiebrooke11.webs.com

http://www.maggiebrooke11.com

maggiebrooke@hotmail.com

 

Find book:

http://www.logical-lust.com/guidedtour.html

Justine Elyot Shares the Story Behind Hungarian Rhapsody

It’s my pleasure to welcome back one of my favourite writers and a really fab chick, Justine Elyot. Justine is here with the story behind her Secret Library novella, Hungarian Rhapsody from the anthology for which it’s the title story.

Ahh, Budapest. The obvious setting for my Xcite Secret Library novella, Hungarian Rhapsody, for after all, haven’t I strolled its boulevards and admired its attractions on many occasions? Actually, no. I’ve never been to Budapest. So what possessed me to set a story in a city I’ve only visited in my imagination?

I think it was the chance to ‘live’ in that city, even if only virtually, that drew me towards the idea. I spent a long time on tourist sites and all kinds of other interesting byways. Youtube, for example, has some fascinating documentary footage of life in Budapest in the 1950s and 60s, to which I became quite addicted.

So I thought today I’d do a little guide to those city locations that are featured in the story.

I’m starting with the Széchenyi Baths. Oh, how I long to visit these… I mean, look at them.

All that beautiful warm water, overlooked by that fabulous baroque yellow palace. What could be more alluring? Maybe going there with János, as lucky Ruby in the story gets to do…

Later in the tale, Ruby fends off a hangover with a day’s sightseeing. János takes her to the Fisherman’s Bastion in old Buda and promptly invents a tradition that involves kissing. Cheeky whatsit! But a kiss in the Fisherman’s Bastion must be worth several anywhere else.

János’ ambition is to buy up a decaying old Budapest courtyard and turn it into a fashionable bar. Romkocsma (ruin bars) like Szimpla Kert have been popular in the city for a few years now. Doesn’t it look atmospheric?

I hope you’ve enjoyed this miniature tour. All it’s done for me is make me even more avid to visit. Maybe I’ll follow in Ruby’s footsteps and head out there. Maybe I’ll even find a János in my bed…

 

Blurb:

Ruby had no idea what to expect from her trip to Budapest, but a strange man in her bed on her first night probably wasn’t it. Once the mistake is ironed out, though, and introductions made, she finds herself strangely drawn to the handsome Hungarian, despite her vow of holiday celibacy. Does Janos have what it takes to break her resolve and discover the secrets she is hiding, or will she be able to resist his increasingly wild seduction tactics? Against the romantic backdrop of a city made for lovers, personalities clash. They also bump. And grind.

 Buy link: http://www.xcitebooks.co.uk/Book/6789/The-Secret-Library.html

Find Justine here: http://justineelyot.com/

Sommer Marsden Talks Cooking Shows

It’s always a pleasure to have Sommer Marsden on A Hopeful Romantic. Today Sommer is talking about her tasty tale, Taste It, from The Secret Library anthology, The Game. Welcome back, Sommer. My mouth is watering already!

 

Strong Woman + Hunky Guy = Heat in the Kitchen

Or at least in the cooking studio. The story behind my story Taste It is born of many, many, many nights (and days!) spent watching reality cooking shows on TV. I have a list as long as my arm, if you ask me, of TV cooking shows to which I’m addicted: Chopped, Top Chef, Iron Chef, Restaurant Impossible, Next Food Network Star and my favorite (at the moment) Around the World in 80 Plates. There are more, but my mind is shutting down and I’m having that junkie itch to try and find one on demand and watch it RIGHT NOW!

I was in the middle of a long stretch of watching and rewatching such shows—there happened to be a whole slew of them going at the time—when I got the call for The Secret Library. I tend to get hooked on shows and then if they rerun them, I’ll leave them on as background noise. Bubble gum for my brain. Something to do when I look up from writing.

I always give myself a moment, when I get a specific call, to shut my eyes and quietly sit there. A silent second to let whatever might be lingering just below the surface of my thoughts float to the top. It’s often the best way to get the idea for a story, in my humble opinion. What did I see behind my closed eyelids?

Chefs! Duh!

When I started to write Taste It, I discovered two things. Firstly, there is a sweet and situationally (think I just created a word) inappropriate attraction between Cole and Jill. And secondly, both of these people have something to prove—to  themselves more than anything. They are both witty and strong and determined, but once the connection between them is made due to the weight of attraction and the beauty of blind fate…well, once that happens, I also discovered they are both very giving.

I love when two noble characters with big hearts fall for each other, don’t you? I know what you’re thinking, “Well, you are pulling the strings, Sommer.” I can see why you’d believe that, but it’s not 100% true. The real story behind any story, for me at least, is that I’m not really pulling the strings at all. I’m just along for the ride. Following the characters my brain has conjured to wherever it is they might be going. In this case, they were going straight into love…and possibly the kitchen!

XOXO

Sommer

Excerpt from TASTE IT:

Jill suppressed a yawn and it was true they were contagious because a second later Cole did the same.

He stroked her hair and she realized why cats always looked so smug and satisfied. It felt good.

“Who are you proving yourself to?” he asked lazily.

The sheet was the only thing on them and the heat off his body was keeping her warm and toasty. The hotel stayed fairly warm but the outside temperature in D.C. was roughly thirty degrees.

“The general public,” she admitted. Then she confessed the whole messy sous chef thing and the scandal and the way it had felt to have people questioning her restaurant and the integrity of her staff. “One person ruined my reputation and I want it back.”

He nodded showing he understood and moved on to stroke her back. Even through his tee it felt good to have his hands on her. It pleased her more than she’d ever admit that he remembered her from the cooking demo they’d both attended. Jill had thought she was the only one who recalled their former meeting—no matter how brief. She’d thought him very handsome and way too interesting even then.

“How about you?” she asked, tickling her fingertips along the ladder marks of his flat stomach. The man worked out, that was for sure. Jill wasn’t so used to the chefs she worked with being so…ripped.

He blew out a long sigh and said, “Myself.”

“That’s it? Yourself?” she said, grinning. She gazed up into those amazing blue eyes and when she saw the look on his face her grin faded.

“I used to be a drunk.”

All the words left her and she simply watched him talk. Her heart beat had sped up and a tiny bit of anxiety worked its way beneath her skin.

“I had a marriage that failed and too much stress in a restaurant that also failed—thanks to the marriage—and I stared drinking. Heavily. About a bottle of vodka a day.”

Wow.

“And I ruined a lot of stuff and hurt a lot of people and then…I got my shit together.” He shrugged again and continued to stroke her long hair with a gentle touch.

“So now…” she waited.

“So now I am proving to myself that I have fixed my problems and am back to myself—better, actually—and deserve all the good things that are happening to me.”

“So when you said you don’t drink anymore…”

“That was why.” He touched her nose. “And if you want to you can totally sta—“

Jill sat up, fear blazing a yellow trail through her gut. “I do have to go. I won’t sleep here. I won’t sleep because it’s a strange room and because,” she nodded down at his fine bare form, “you’re all naked and hot and stuff.”

“You think I’m hot?”

She smiled wide and when he echoed it with his own smile her heart knocked hard in her chest. “I think you left cute behind about eight bus stops ago,” she said, parroting his kindness from earlier.

“It was six bus stops,” he said, touching her bottom lip in a way that made her think sinful things.

“Mine is eight,” she said, rising up fast to kiss him.

He cupped her face and made her slow down. He made her kiss more leisurely and lazier and God, so much more intensely. Then she ran like the devil was on her heels. She was terrified. Terrified!

Cole Roberts made her almost wish for him that he’d win Best Chef. She almost didn’t care if she saved face. And what…the hell…did that mean?

Buy The Game from:
Amazon UK
Amazon US
The Book Depository

Bio:

Best selling author 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 for Blog Critics Books).

Her erotic novels include Restless Spirit, Big Bad, The Best of Sommer Marsden, Hard Lessons, and Angry Sex. Sommer currently writes erotica and erotic romance for Xcite Books, eXcessica, Ellora’s Cave, Pretty Things Press, Resplendence Publishing and House of Erotica. 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 over a hundred (and counting) erotic anthologies. Her short stories have also been included numerous adult and romance magazines–both in print and online. Visit sommermarsden.blogspot.com to see what she’s up to.