Sommer Marsden's Blog, page 107

#5

in paid anthologies on All Romance eBooks. Woohoo for Gritty and it's fab writers! :)

XOXO
Sommer

my fucking comment

I can't comment. I am irritated. :/

Thank you Janeen for your nice comment. I have tried to thank you 4 times.

Jo, T and CJ, I had a mix of the three but a heavy influence on Domenick's part. What can I say. I love his energy in BK's. Hot, hot, hot in a slamyaupagainstawallkindaway. Whew.

Thusly ends my comment since my blog will not let me...you know...COMMENT!

XOXO
Sommer

If...

Domenick Lombardozzi of Breakout Kings and...



Jason Stantham...



and Dwayne Johnson...



got together and had a baby. It would look like Johnny Rose. Who is Johnny Rose? Long story. And it starts here.

I promised Wanderlust readers I'd share my mental image. Now I have. You can thank me later ;)

Beyond that, today has been spent wrestling Createspace to get Gritty into print eventually and working on two paranormals. One short. One long. (((that's that she said))).

Happy Hump Day, y'all.

XOXO
Sommer

the little book that could does it again...

Every time I get a great review for this book (all 4.5 and 5's thus far if I'm not mistaken), I just shake my head. And remember that I almost ditched it. Eesh.

Sizzling Hot Book Reviews gave me something beyond a flattering review, five stars and kind words. And when I read this:

"Learning to Drown has shown me what a wide range of writing Sommer Marsden can do from this extreme to the sweeter, yet still steamy, romance..."

I nearly had a girly moment. Why? Because acknowledging range is one of the biggest compliments you can give a writer.

Thanks to SHBR for taking the time to read and review me. :)

XOXO
Sommer

GRITTY Release Day!

We are up on ARe, Bookstrand, Smashwords, 1Place for Romance. We are coming soon (heh) to Amazon Kindle and soon, if I don't break Createspace, print.

Yay us. Here is a photo:



And here is some blurbage:

Includes gritty fiction by: Quinn Gabriel * Willsin Rowe * Rita Winchester * Alison Tyler * Sommer Marsden * Aisling Weaver * Heidi Champa * Shanna Germain * Parker Ford * Justine Elyot

Needs. We all have them. What you will find in this book are tales—tawdry and otherwise—of folks who are on a mission to fulfill their needs. Or, in some cases, people who are lucky enough to have partners willing to help them meet their needs. Dirty, rough, gritty, coarse, sometimes startling—always stimulating. This is love and lust, fucking and seduction on the rough side. The gritty, edgy underbelly of relationships and love and sex.

CONTENT WARNINGS: This book contains rough sex, explicit sex, explicit language, infidelity, m/f/m sex, m/m sex, ménage, corporal punishment, whipping, seduction and BDSM.

Readers 18+ ONLY

Excerpt:
From Gentleman's Relish
by Justine Elyot

Once the linen napkin is folded and fastened in position, blindfolding me, I hear every sound much more acutely. The quack of the moorhens, the clink as Sir accidentally knocks a stray fork against the empty champagne bottle, the shush of the water reeds in the barely-there breeze are all magnified to preternatural intensity.

For that moment, I live in the centre of a pastoral idyll, and then Sir takes my wrists and ties them behind my back with another faultlessly laundered napkin, and I remember. Today's the day the perverts have their picnic.

"What do you think, James?" Sir canvasses his friend lightly, running a hand beneath my bare breasts, flicking at the nipples.

I hear the fizz of bubbles as James upends his glass, draining the last of the champagne, then he says, "I think Manet missed a trick. Dejeuner Sur l'Herbe could have been even more intriguing with our little Sugarplum in the picture. She does so suit tethers, doesn't she?"

"Absolutely. Especially when she's wearing nothing else."

It's true. I'm naked, except for the strategically placed strips of linen, kneeling up on the picnic rug with my shoulders back and breasts forward. I have been hand-fed smoked salmon, had champagne kissed into my mouth, and strawberries and cream consumed from my quim, each diner taking it in turn to feast with eager tongue.

Now it is time for some post-prandial entertainment, and I believe I am it.

"I have a test for you, Sugarplum. A little game. I'm going to give you a taste of three condiments. You must guess what they are. I'm sure you won't be surprised when I tell you that incorrect guesses will result in a penalty."

He is right. I am not surprised. James laughs with delight.

"Oh, this should be good!"

"Now open your mouth nice and wide, Sugarplum. I am going to dab a little on your tongue. That's as much as you'll get. Are you ready?"

"Yes, Sir."

I hear the unscrewing of the lid and the scraping of the jar. Then I smell the familiar pungency of ginger, mixed with the scent of his finger. He rubs the sauce on to my tongue in a slow circle then leaves me to make my judgment.

It is spicy and sweet, with a tang I can't quite place. I roll my tongue around, up against the roof of my mouth, over my teeth, licking my lips before swallowing.

"Is that nice, Sugarplum?"

"Quite tasty, Sir."

"What is it?"

"It's a ginger sauce...of some kind, Sir."

"You need to be more specific."

"Um...ginger chutney?"

"Is that your final answer? And you forgot the Sir." He tweaks a nipple and I gasp.

"Sorry, Sir. Yes, Sir."

I know I am wrong from the teasing delight in his voice.

turquoise...

Ima Mermaid (that is my stripper name)


Next time I think I'm going full throttle. The whole underside will be turquoise or cobalt or maybe even purple. No more dainty bits.

There's more in there, but I could not get a decent pic. And I am lazy. Lazy Ass (that shall be my porn name) :)

XOXO
Sommer

So I guess I can finally show you...

Coming this week:



I. Am. So. Excited.

XOXO
Sommer

Wanderlust part 67 "THE END"

Many, many miles, mucho diners, tons of hotel rooms. Ups, downs, ins, outs, kinks and vanilla. It's been a hell of a ride, folks. And I was so damned honored to wake up with you every day and read your comments and share this trip.

Wanderlust weighed in around 88K, but I got so much more out of it than word count. When I started, I didn't know if I could do it. I never considered that beyond the challenge, I'd have the added bonus of really getting to know all of you. :)

You rock. You roll. You boogie to the music. And I hope you'll keep coming back to see me.

XOXO
Sommer

Wanderlust
part 67
by Sommer Marsden

I sat in the middle of the floor, laughing. The landlord, his name was James Dalton, had given us two weeks to live here, prove employment and start paying first month rent, last month rent and security deposit. He'd left Johnny with a, "You look like a nice couple and the missus and I were young once, too."

"It's too surreal to be real."

"True." He dropped down next to me. Together, we eyed the small room. There was a heater built into the wall, a Murphy bed build into the wide walk in closet. A small kitchen and then the actal closet that housed the bed—which was the size of a small ante room with built-in drawers and a counter—led into a small bathroom.

"This gives efficiency a new name."

"True."

"Our bed falls out of the closet," I snorted.

"It folds out. Not falls."

I stared at it. "I'm pretty sure if we touch it it's going to fall."

I couldn't really breathe and I could see him watching me. I struggled for air and he said, "Hey…"

I held up a hand. "It's fine. I'm fine. My body does not know I'm excited. It things I'm stressed," I giggled.

He stared at me, half smiling, half frowning. Johnny couldn't figure out what to do.

"We have a place," he said.

"We have a place," I echoed.

"Yep. Ours."

"I can't breathe," I said.

"I can see that."

And that's when he tangled his big hand in my hair and wrapped it in his fist. He tugged me up—not too rough, but just hard enough to make me gasp with excitement. He grabbed the Murphy bed and tugged. When it was half down, he hooked his work boot in the end and pushed it flat. He stripped his flannel off, laid it down and pushed me back on the shirt that was filleted open like a small blanket.

"Take your pants off." He released my hair and started tugging the bottom of my jeans before I even had the button popped.

"What, what, what?" I chanted, but I was working my button with trembling fingers.

He whisked them away so fast it was like a magic trick. I nearly expected a tada! out of him. In true Johnny fashion, he removed his clothes with efficient movements and leaned in, kissing me hard, making my mouth submit to his will.

I was desperate for it. I needed to be grounded, tamed, calmed—whatever you wanted to call it, I needed him.

He flipped me at the same instant he said, "Turn over". As if I had choice. He had me up on hands and knees, knocking my legs wider. The Murphy bed complained gently with a little squeaky sound and Johnny caught my hair up in his hand again so that I made a similar sound.

"It'll be okay," he muttered to me. Because he knew that was the root of my worry.

"Yes," I agreed and sank back to meet him when I felt his cock stroke along the wet slit of my pussy and then he was in me, thrusting hard, tugging my hair. His free hand splayed possessively on my lower back.

"It will be fine." He smacked my ass and I hissed but then I relaxed back into his grip.

"More. Please." There was a humbling begging quality to my voice. "Please," I breathed again.

He chuckled and hit me again. The other cheek shrieked with sudden rippling pain and then it bled into a dull thump, causing my cunt to beat faster along with my heart.

"Yes," I sighed. I tried to let my head fall forward, to surrender to the pleasure and the pain and the fear and the soothing. But he still had me caught up in his grip. He held me there, tugging my hair back so my neck was straighter than I liked.

"Heads up," he joked, but his voice had gone softer, deeper. "Life ahead. We'll be fine."

"We will." I thrust back against him, spearing myself on him. Losing myself to him.

He alternated blows in earnest now. The crack and snap of the spanks filling our tiny little apartment. My body hummed with pleasure and my cunt gripped up around him. I stared at our new shared ceiling and confessed.

"God, Johnny. God, baby. I'm going to come if you keep—"

He did keep it up. He gave me six more blows and then stopped, releasing my hair, gripping my hips, slamming into me with his own urgent need. The heat from my ass traveled like a stain under my skin into my pussy, down my thighs, up my lowered back and when he gripped me just a touch tighter and growled, "Mine. You're mine now." I came.

We were silent for a moment, and then dropped to our bed. A bit too close to the top it seemed, because the foot of the bed jumped off the floor and I gave a startled squeak.

Then Johnny was laughing at me and I was laughing at him.

"Best bed ever," he said.

"Agreed."

I spread myself out over him—naked body and soul—and listened to his heart beating.

****

We had no curtains yet, just the very well-worn cheap shades. The sun was doing its best to stab me in my eyeballs. I was pretty sure I would be blind for life. I heard the front door and shielded my face before I opened my eyes to look.

"Where were you?"

"Out front. We have breakfast."

"Scrounged car food?" I laughed.

"Nope. Our new landlord, Mr. Dalton came by with his wife. They didn't come in because I told them you were still sleeping. There is a whole care package here and a few phone numbers for me to find some landscaping work. Or roofing, construction, all that shit."

I raised up on my elbows. "Jeeze," I said.

He smiled, waving some donuts and a packet of coffee at me. "I know right?"

"Do we even have a coffee pot?"

He nodded, moving past me into the kitchen. But not before stooping to drop a kiss on my forehead. Johnny Rose looked damn near…domesticated. In a huge, bald, scarred kind of way.

"Yep. Comes with the unit."

I wrapped myself in his flannel and hurried into the kitchen. "We have like…magical apartment fairy godparents."

"Someone's smiling on us."

I froze. "I didn't think you believed much in that stuff."

He eyed me. "Never have. Much. Until now."

I smiled and stood on tiptoe to kiss his jaw. He caught me up, by surprise and sat my bare ass on the counter. I'd have to clean that.

"It won't always be easy, Really," he said seriously staring me in the eye.

"I know."

"Things go wrong," he said.

"But I still love you," I sang softly, recalling a snippet of lyrics from a Chris Isaac song.

"And we'll fight, you know."

"I know."

"Sometimes you might not even like me very much." As he said it he was parting my thighs enough to step between them. He kissed my neck and put his hands under the shirt to find my breasts.

"I know that too. And ditto for you."

"That's fine," he said, pressing against me with his now-hard cock. Too bad he still had his jeans on.

"It better be," I sighed, because he was tweaking my nipples with sharp little pinches.

Were we about to christen the kitchen?

"It is because we'll get through it. If we try. And we're patient. We will get through anything. And I promise you, I'll take care of you," he said. His blue-blue eyes were begging me to believe him.

I cupped his face in my hands and grinned. "I know you will, Johnny. Because you're a good man."

And this time when I said it, he didn't correct me.

THE END

6 and 7

for those of you following... :)

Coming in October (the book. not me)

XOXO
Sommer

Wanderlust part 66 "Big, bad, tortured Johnny Rose was happy."

Ah...before you tell me this could never happen. I'm here to tell you that it could. But some of you realize that life is full of little oddities so you do not question me. There is a very thin vein of reality running through this tale. One of the brightest spots is here.

Anyway, enough cryptic chatter. I am about to go yard saling and blue dye shopping and all that jazz. This weekend look for more Wanderlust (yes, I'm breaking my own rule) and more cover pieces to my upcoming paranormal and maybe another little morsel.

Happy Saturday!

XOXO
Sommer

Wanderlust
part 66
by Sommer Marsden

"Where are we?" I opened my eyes and we were parked on a shallow roadside. To our left was the ocean. I smiled.

"We are where I wanted us to be."

"Cryptic."

The sun was not down but was close. The sky was a periwinkle strip of sky with a pink and yellow layer of icing.

"This is Palos Verdes. Ever heard of it?"

"I think so. Not sure."

"You awake?" He turned to me in his seat. The car was quiet. Johnny had at some point flipped the music off. Traffic flew past us, but no one paid us any attention. The beach below, which I could barely see, was deserted.

"Yep. I am awake. Confused, but awake."

"Come on." He leaned in—so huge, I realized for the millionth time—and kissed me gently. Then he squeezed my hand and unlocked his door.

It was at the edge of the road that all the spit in my mouth dried up. "Um…are you going to kill me?"

He laughed, a big booming sound that was so genuine I felt a sparkle-stab of tears in my eyes. He was happy. Big, bad, tortured Johnny Rose was happy.

Below my flats was a cliff. Not a tiny cliff. A cliff-cliff. A horror movie cliff. A hey-let's-dispose-of-the-body cliff.

"Do you have sneakers?"

I nodded, not liking where this was going.

"Yeah, but surely there's an access road. A parking lot? A normal entry to a normal beach."

"Yes, but we need to go this way. I won't let anything happen to you."

I swallowed hard. It was one thing to believe that on flat land where gravity wasn't trying to steal your soul. A completely different thing to believe it when you were doing your best impression of Spiderman.

I blew out a sigh and turned to the car. "Come on, help me find my shoes before I chicken out and run like the wind."

*****

It wasn't as bad as I thought. There was a definite path along the rocks that made up the cliff's face. Some parts you had to climb. Some parts you could shuffle-walk. At one point only did I slip and start to fall and Johnny—true to his word—caught me by the back of my shirt and held me tight.

"Careful, Snowflake."

"Careful, my ass," I laughed. "It's your fault I'm even doing this."

But I wouldn't change it for the world. The space inside of me that usually felt so narrow and cramped felt huge and expansive. I had wings. I had hope. I was high on adrenaline and the climb and the huge man who was keeping good time on my heels.

I was high on the fact that for the first time in my life when I heard the word love, I fucking knew what it meant.

The beach was more pebbles than sand. It seemed endless now that we were on it. Endless, roughly smooth, forever.

He held my hand. It was a sweet gesture. He'd grabbed, tugged, yanked, caught and gripped my hand before. But this gesture was entirely new. The way he held it, the softness of the motion. I felt like we were being joined by something much bigger than us, bigger than the sky or the pebbled ground we stood on.

"I think I've lost my mind," I whispered.

He couldn't hear me. The ocean, she roared louder than a stadium full of applause.

I repeated it, shouting this time—throwing my voice to him so he could know what I was feeling.

His face broke out in a smile and he leaned in so that his lips grazed my earlobe and he still had to speak up. "It's called euphoria, Really. You're as sane as you ever were."

That made me laugh so hard I snorted. "Wasn't very sane to begin with."

"You are saner than most."

We sat on the pebbles and waited. I was content to wait and not ask or pry. I wanted to see whatever it was he wanted me to see.

And then the moon rose up, a white puncture in a black blanket. It lit up slices of ocean in tendrils of milky glow.

"I once came here and…"

I knew what this was. This was where he'd planned to end it. This had been his exit.

I nodded. Squeezed his hand.

"This was supposed to be the end for me. But I was too much of a coward to do it."

"Good," I said. "I'm glad. I don't want it to be the end."

"It's not now. Now it's the beginning."

*****

Xerxes Avenue. We drifted onto it and we were done. No more gas. No more nothing.

A man was nailing a sign up outside an apartment building. I watched him, feeling true fear.

I still had the credit card in my purse. I could call Bren at any time—collect—and ask for help. But I didn't want to. That was more the impetus for the fear, I thought, than not having anything.

"What now?" I whispered.

He put his arm around me and I leaned into him. "The beach is straight ahead a few blocks. Public shower, all that jazz. We have snacks in the car, we can sleep in here. We just need to move around a few times a night. They have street sweepers here," he said and pointed to a street sign stating days and hours for no parking.

"They clean their streets," I laughed. "God, back home that would be downright surreal."

I opened the car door, flinging it wide, letting my anxiety out of the car. I followed it. I put my forehead against the roof and tried to breathe. "It's fine," I said, more to me than to him.

This was real life. This was what I wanted. It would be fine.

He came around to me, despite the man across the street staring our way, and put his hand on my head. "No worries, Snowflake. It's fine. Tomorrow I'll find some work, you can look around too. They usually pay cash at the end of the day and then you show up the next day at the same spot—or you don't. We'll at least be able to rent a flea bag on a night to night basis." He pulled me to him and hugged me. "Nothing but the best for my girl," he said.

I could hear the smile in his voice and I started to laugh at the irony of it all. "I should have taken the whole account when I had the chance," I said. "It's my money. Not his. He can't' touch it."

"Then soon enough—say, when we have gas—we'll find a branch out here and see about getting the money. Whatever you want."

"Problem?" We both turned to face the openly curious and seemingly nice older man.

"We're fine," I said, wiping my nose.
"Sorry, sir," Johnny said.

"Car trouble?"

I barked out a laugh and then to my surprise—and horror—a fresh rush of tears overtook me. "Yeah, um, I'll be in the car," I whispered to Johnny and climbed back in before I actually managed to embarrass myself to death. If that was possible.

I watched through my bangs and my lashes as I slowly leaked tears as Johnny talked with Mr. Nosy Sign Man.

"Go away, go away, go away," I chanted softly.

After a few minutes, they shook hands and the man left.

"Oh, thank god!" I burst out.

Johnny opened the door of the Chevy and leaned in, grinning like the cat who ate the canary.

"What?" I yelped. "What? Why are you doing that?"

"Calm down, Really. Grab your stuff."

"Why?"I said again. "Are we being rousted? What does rousted mean?"I quickly added.

He hung his head and I couldn't see his face but I could tell he was laughing at me.

"No, Really. We have an apartment."

STAY TUNED...