Sommer Marsden's Blog, page 13

Shiny, happy (people) clothes and an I'm-so-excited! giveaway

Here we go. My beautious clothes I was so excited about arrived yesterday. I wore the anatomical heart tank to get my ass kicked by Shaun T this morning. It was awesome. If you're curious, and/or dig the threads, they're from ZenThreads on Etsy.

I think the Namaste tank (blue with prayer hands but looks gray in photo) is my fave. If I had to pick a fave. Which I really can't.





(oh, those are yoga 3 minute eggs on the floor in case you were curious)

On top of all the clothes I want to wear at once, I have a giveaway. I'm so stoked for the Lucky Streak release on the 16th, I'm giving away 2 copies (your choice of e-format) of the original. Lucky 13 is an anthology of my short stories and got some fabulous reviews back in the day (a few snippets are beneath the cover). I can only hope the follow up book will be as well received. Just comment for a chance to win one of the two copies. I'll run it through the rest of the week, then I'll randomly choose 2 winners and contact them. So make sure you leave your email address!

#9 in Violet Blue's Ten Hottest Sex Books of 2009

 
 Mrs. Giggles 90/100
"Baby, this one is hot, hot, hot…(a) sizzling collection of stories…filled with all the wholesome goodness that erotica has to offer. There are ample descriptions of emotions and sensations that make the graphic sex scenes more vivid for the best vicarious joyride. There are also some unexpectedly tender and even heartwarming moments in the more romantic stories. All in all, this one is too much of a good thing and I’m giving this one two thumbs up."


Amanda, Manic Readers Reviews 4/5 Stars
"Ms. Marsden truly brings an exquisite collection of erotica to the table with Lucky 13 . All thirteen stories left this reader breathless and wanting more…"

Ashley Lister, Erotica Revealed
Sommer Marsden’s skill as an author is in her ability to depict living breathing human beings and make them interesting, exciting and entertaining. The fact that she chooses to write in the erotic genre means that we lucky readers get to see these vibrant individuals enjoying the complexities of a passionate and carnal existence. If you enjoy well written erotica, and you want to get lucky with your choice of reading material, it’s a safe bet to pick Lucky 13.


Violet Blue, author
Lucky 13: Thirteen Tales of Getting Lucky Author Sommer Marsden is a writer I consider to be one of the top storytellers in the erotica genre, and she’s just getting started. She is one I’m watching closely. This collection is 13 of her hits, and highly recommended

Crunchy bits and other bits...

My first crunchy clothing* I wish to show. Purchased (in a smaller size than I used to take!) yesterday with the wee bit of remainder Xmas money. They are soft. They are cozy. They are Aztec print. They are...joyful! And they make me so happy. Which is the point. I am due to get my first order of crunchy clothes ordered from Etsy today so be warned: more photos to come :)

Second bit, my current lesson. I am struggling with this and every day I try to let it go. My less than stellar days as a caregiver. When I was tired, stressed, exhausted, angry and all the other feels. I'm working on it.





On a work level, I am wrapping up final edits/read through for Lucky Streak. Due out from Excessica in 10 days. I'm beyond excited for this all new collection to hit. So, so, so excited. (eep!)

On a reading note, I just finished this book and it has more sticky notes than I can count. When you turn it on its side it looks like a porcupine. So, at some future date I'll just be buying it (I borrowed it from the library). If you're looking for a good kick in the ass in 2015 and/or some good thoughts to chew on, I highly recommend it.


That's all my bits for today. Unless, I get a chance to post my new clothing shipment later. Happy Tuesday. Today was Tabata in Insanity Max 30. I think of it as Tabata Tuesday now. Otherwise known as: Ooh! Ouch! Eek! Oomph!

XOXO
Sommer
*if you have no idea what this crunchy business is about and want to know, go back a few posts to WARNING: Crunchy Roads Ahead...

Four cocktails...my favorite number!

Okay, so usually I stick with 2, 3 if I'm feeling feisty. Four kind of...puts me to sleep. But in this instance, four is great! Super! Awesome!

Cocktails and Books gave 'Tis the Season 4 cocktails and a truly lovely review. Not to mention a nice nod and wink to Willsin Rowe's mad cover art skillz. See, we're not supposed to judge a book by the cover, but come on--we all do it. Which is why I always go for the best. His snappy, sassy little cover earned me a new reader and I'm just thrilled with that.

Here's my fave snippet:

To tell you the truth, it was the cover that grabbed my interest.  I had been reading some pretty heavy books, and I was searching for a palate cleanser.  Those adorable socks with the green snowflake background looked cheerful, and I was really in the mood for cheerful.  I’d never heard of Sommer Marsden, and I’m so glad to have discovered this one.



Full review HERE .

Happy 4th day of 2015. Four days already? Jeesh. And my girl goes back to school tomorrow. *sniffle* *sob*...hold me, someone!

XOXO
Sommer

WARNING: "Crunchy" Roads Ahead

Crunchy. Granola. Hippy Dippy. Woo-Woo. Zen. Whatever you want to call it, I’m shouting out a warning that I’m "there" at this stage in my life. You might come here to find blogs more about self-discovery. As a writer, a woman, a friend, a daughter, and my god, especially, a mother.
I was at a place, in my forty-three year treck through this life, where I felt I knew who I was. Actually, I did know who I was. I was a writer, the best friend to a wonderful man, a happy wife with a happy life and two amazing kids. I’d spent nearly 20 years with a man who helped me build a fantastic family, the result of that being two amazing young people we brought into this world and showered with love and joy and hopefully good lessons. We made it a priority to let them figure out who they were and tell us as opposed to imposing our thoughts of what they should be on them. 
It worked fucking fantastically.
So, see, I had it all figured out. I was with him. He was with me. Throw in two kids and we were all together. It’s because of that man, my best friend, that I am a writer today. He put all his stock in me. His faith, his love and his encouragement and I blossomed. I went from no stories to being in God knows how many books at this point. I've lost count. And my own books--all my own. And readers and followers and friends online. If he hadn’t been behind me 100% no one would have ever heard my voice because he gave me courage and I went for it because I had his voice in my ear telling me I was awesome.
Sadly, sometimes, when you think you have it all figured out—have all your bases covered—the Universe informs you that you’re wrong. And for whatever reason, a twist in fate I did not see and cannot understand, it changed the game on me. I am no longer a wife. I am no longer flanked by my best friend. I am no longer a co-parent. I am a newly hatched widow, single mother of two, who can often be found standing in the middle of some random room at any given time, wondering what the fuck now? And who the fuck am I now?
You might think, Why, you're the same person you were! You'd be wrong. You don't walk through that kind of fire and come out unchanged on the other side. (Yeah, I gave a little nod to Bukowski there. That was for my baby. ;) ) Instead of crawling into bed and crying over how unfair it is (trust me, it is unfair, and trust me I cry…I just try not to do it unless my soul truly needs to), I’ve decided to put on my hippy dippy clothes (an addiction fed by Christmas money, thank you very much. And probably more pictures than you'd care to see to posted as they arrive) and read my crunchy self-help books (I recommend YOU ARE A BAD ASS by Jen Sincero or BUDDHIST BOOTCAMP by Timber Hawkeye) and look at people I admire online and in my real life and figure this shit out.
I didn’t choose to change the game, but I have learned in said 43 years that if you do not adapt and grow from any given situation…you die. You lose.  You’re out.
Why am I telling you this? Well, one to warn you that there are crunchy roads ahead. With posts on love and light and self-improvement and working out and yes, writing, of course. My writing might change, don’t know you, we’ll see. My online habits will definitely change. I am avoiding all things that do not bring me joy, and sometimes I find so much negativity online (sadly in the midst of so much positivity from the friends I've made over the years) it makes me want to bite my Buddha’s head off—and I like my Buddha! So I'm navigating online waters carefully until I'm emotionally stronger and saner.
To sum up: I’m changing. At least, I'm attempting to. I figured I’d give you a heads up. I hope you’ll stick around for the journey. The crunchy bits and otherwise!
Wish me luck.
XOXOSommer

I give me a 9.5

There is an enormous amount of judgment in grieving. Who knew? Not me!
People I love often say: “How are you?”
“I’m doing well.” The silent addition to my statement is…”considering”.
Almost always the response is. “How are you really doing?”
This has happened more times than I can count. Coming from people I know love me and are worried about/for me. I appreciate that, but the unspoken sentiment feels like: You are not weeping openly. You are not lying in bed. You are not sobbing at any given moment. Aren’t you grieving?
Well, yes, yes I am grieving. But walking around sobbing, refusing to get out of bed, not showering, not living will do me no good. My children less good. I often feel as if I’m doing it wrong despite the fact that every book, every person, every counselor you will encounter seems to say: “There is no right way to grieve.”
I wonder what those people would think if they saw me cry when I got into an empty bed at night. Or reach for him in the middle of the night because for a fleeting and joyous moment I forget he’s not there and think he is. Or when I was prepping to host his family on Christmas Eve—something we have done since we moved into this house. We. And this year it was me. There were quite a few brief, nearly silent, but heart wrenching crying sessions that day.
Would the people who seem to be judging me on my grief be proud to have seen me fall apart? Would I have gotten a good score?
It’s hurtful sometimes, boggling at others, and sometimes it’s downright comical. I called someone on it recently. Very quietly but very bluntly (something Jim would have been extremely proud of, he was the person who taught me to say no because…just no--no excuse) “You know, when you do that “how are you really doing?” thing it makes me feel like you think I’m not grieving.
The response was shock, horror, dismay! But it still stands, that a more appropriate response, instead of how are you really doing, would be: Is there anything I can do? Do you need anything? Do you need to talk? If you do, just let me know.
No judgment. Just an offer of an ear or a hug or time.
The point isn’t to belittle these people. It’s just to put it out there that I had no idea, when the daily grief of caring for a dying person passed, and the grief of actual loss began, that I’d be getting scores on my apparent grieving.
Ironically, its Jim’s voice in my ear that I hear when I get all twisted up that maybe I am doing it wrong. I can hear him:
I’m gone. Crying over me constantly won’t bring me back. It won’t prove how much you loved me. You did that every day that I was here. I was your life when I was sick. You gave up everything. And now giving up the urge to move forward—as painful as it may be at times—will not do anything other than suck more out of you. Out of our children.
Staying in bed, not eating, not living will only make it worse. You stopped just about everything to be with me at the end and now, baby, it’s time to put one foot in front of the other. And get back into the life we built and take care of those kids we made and remember how much I loved you. How much you loved me. It never goes away. It’s just shifted to a different level. A different plane. And it’s all good. You can do this.
You can do this…
So in this bizarre, hard, painful, and sometimes darkly comical time in my life, the voice I still listen to, the best advice I still get, is from the man I loved more than I love breathing. The person I built an amazing life and an amazing family with. And yes, the man I am still grieving. Every day. Every breath. Every moment. But he’s the one making me strong, getting me through, and getting me going with taking each day as a new opportunity to live again, for me and for our children. It’s him. As always. Because nothing ever really changes when you’re in love.

**Author's Note: There seems to be some confusion on how that one comment could be deemed judgmental. In that vein, I'm adding some follow up comments I've received that add to my *perception* of being judged. 
"Well...I never *see you react*" 
"I never see you cry." 
"Well, I'm sorry, but *I* have to cry." 
"*I* cry for him every day..."
and so on. Also, while I'm here, for reader edification, this phenomenon seems to be with people in my real life. To date, no one online has ever done this to me. For which I am eternally grateful. xo 
XOXOSommer

A best of for Quinn...huzzah!

I'm so over the moon when someone loves my novel The Mighty Quinn. Why? Because I love it so damn much! I can't help myself. I truly can't.

So the fact that writer Delilah Night named The Mighty Quinn her best novel of 2014...well, what can a girl say to that? How about...hooray! That works.



She also gives nice complimentary strokes to Twisted edited by Alison Tyler, the novella Those Boys by Alison Tyler, Skirting the Issue, the multi-indie-author that includes me, Sophia Valenti and Alison Tyler, The Sexy Librarian's Big Book of Erotica edited by Rose Caraway and...gasp!...so many others.

To check out Delilah's full list of Bests and Faves go HERE.

Now back to being a Keebler elf. So far today I've made sweet-spicy-salty nuts, mini pecan muffins and Salty Almond Graham treats. I only have sugar cookies left and then this elf is off duty...until tomorrow. *sobs*

XOXO
Sommer

A beloved bookish Christmas memory...

Being a book maniac I have tons of book related holiday memories. There were the years, many in a row, actually, where I got the new Bloom County book for Christmas. I still have them all. Still love them. And yes, Opus the penguin is still my hero.
My mother was smart. She knew that the only thing that occupied me more than my love of all things TV was my addiction to books. So usually on Christmas Eve, once I had done her bidding (I’m kidding, I was always eager to help), she’d give me my Christmas Eve present. One present onChristmas Eve just to whet the appetite.
To my recollection it was always a book in some form or other.
Despite how much I loved those yearly books with tales of Bill the Cat and Milo, my favorite Christmas book-related memory is the year I was 16. I received Misery from my folks for Christmas. I was dying to read it, I devoured everything from Stephen King instantly, and this being the age before the internet existed to suck up my time and take it away from books (more often than I’d like), I practically ate his books whole.

Needless to say, the moment we were done with gifts, in those open hours between opening gifts in the morning and visiting family in the evening, I was camped out on my bed with Misery. Learning just how crazy Annie Wilkes was and how screwed poor Paul Sheldon happened to be.
Of course, I couldn’t take the book with me that night. One socializes and visits at parties. One does not read. And honestly, I did love those parties growing up. There were a ton of cousins in a wide age range and the adults were fun to be around as well. So, I willingly put my book aside until we could be reunited.
It was late when we finally returned home. I want to say ten…eleven? I made a beeline for the book. I remember it was a snowy Christmas. The ground was white, it was cold, and I’d just changed into pajamas and opened my lovely book when…the lights went out.
We’d lost power.
I wandered downstairs, clutching Misery, to find my mom lighting one of those old oil lamps and my father checking out the window to see if it was everyone or just us. It was everyone.
So, I read. Sitting at the dining room table while my parents talked and laughed around me. I read by the light of an old oil lamp while wrapped in a blanket eating Hershey kisses out of the bowl on the table. Picking at Baklava (my mother's yearly tradition) and no doubt drinking Coke by the bucket. The world was dark. The moon shining off the snow as I read and read and read.
Talk about ‘mood lighting’ from the Universe.
Eventually, the power came back on. And I believe I finished the tale of Paul and Annie before I finally slept. Hey, I didn’t have to get up early the next day—I was on Christmas break.
I have no idea why that memory is so dear to me. Maybe because living in the world I do now, I remember the power went out and no one was yelling about losing their internet connection. Or maybe it was the fact that I was huddled there reading by a soft glow on a cold winter night. Or maybe it was just that the world around me was so very peaceful and pretty as I got lost in a book.
But that Christmas, 1987, and that book and that memory is my most beloved book related holiday memory. I can close my eyes and remember it with perfect clarity. How flawless the day had been, how exciting the book was, and how very happy I was at that particular moment in time.
Now you. If you have a favorite book related memory, please share! You can post it in the comments or post it on your own blog and slap a linky-doo down in the comment section and I’ll go read it.
Happy five days (eek!) ‘til Christmas, y’all.
XOXOSommer
p.s. I may have blogged about this before. And if I have...my apologies. I'm senile now. Like those old men who say "did I ever tell you the time..." and you say "Yes" and then they proceed to tell you anyway? Just call me Grandpaw...

Hallelujah! Holy shit! Where's the Tylenol?

Is your family like this? Then my new holiday novella might be the perfect quick, festive break for you. A cup of coffee and some cookies and a little Christmas fun.

My shameless plug for the week, ladies and gentlemen. Which always makes me think of a...ya know...butt plug, for some reason. So, there you go again, my weird mental tangent for the week. Tada!

And now on to one of my favorite snippets of my favorite scenes in 'tis the Season . :)





What had I done?
I stood at the antique China cabinet that had been my grandmother’s and tried to pick out the wine glasses. My mother was futzing with my cheese platter for the fourth time.
After we’d sat and talked over more wine the night before, Brogan had helped me tether the tree so it wouldn’t attack me anymore and then gone up to his apartment after a very steamy and very long kiss goodnight.
Now, I was about to subject him to my family. See, I get these super romantic notions of the holidays every year. And every year, once everything begins and people are arriving, I remember why this isn’t a movie. The holidays rarely mimic TV shows and holiday films. Unless you count the show Cops or the movie The Ref.
“Now, this young man you’ve invited. Wait, what is this stuff again?” My mother pointed to the green on my cheese platter. I’d gone all out. Nice cheeses, grapes of three colors, two kinds of olives, salted nuts and a variety of crackers.
I sighed. “Fig leaves, Mom.”
“They’re not poisonous are they?”
I looked at her, a wine glass in each hand.
“Because I don’t want to have to go to the emergency room on Christmas Eve. It will be mobbed.”
I wanted to answer, but I was too dumbfounded to speak.
“Natalie Jane, have you been struck mute?”
“Mom, are figs poisonous?”
“Well, of course not.”
“So why in the world would the leaves be?”
“Your logic is flawed, Natalie. There are many plants that have some poisonous bits and some edible bits.”
Touché.
“Okay,” I said. “Let me ask you this. Why would I put poisonous leaves on a cheese platter?”
“Maybe you didn’t know.”
“Well, how would I know to answer your question then?”
My mother pressed her hot pink, lipsticked lips together and narrowed her eyes. “I hope we don’t all die.”
“Me, too,” I said. Well, most of us

A grimy excerpt, an A+++ review and the Stephen King connection...

So I spent my morning at the Social Security Administration. Not as bad as I anticipated. We waited about an hour but then I got a lovely gentleman who was super nice, helpful and in good spirits. Trust me, that last one is a perk.

I came home from lunch with my mom and girl child to find two lovely things.

Lovely thing #1: I'm the excerpt for 9-to-5 Fantasies edited by Alison Tyler on Kinkly.com. Tada! If you want to read the opening of my story Grimy, you can go... HERE .

And please do grab the book if you like the tease. It's chock full of dirty goodness. The perfect distraction for the chaos of the holiday season. At least, that's the kind of distraction I like during chaos.






Lovely thing #2:

The Mighty Quinn , one of my most beloved novels, received an A+++ review from Delilah Night. You can check out the full review of Quinn on her blog . But here's my favorite bit:

The sex scenes made me squirm in my seat—in the best possible way.  But unlike those early erotic novels, I want to read the whole book again.  I want to go through the journey that gets me to those sex scenes because they’re not just hot, I’m emotionally invested in the relationship.





And I'm sure you're wondering about the Stephen King connection, right? Well, I found one of those thingies in someone's tweet last night and plugged in a bit of my text and got...


[image error]
I write like
Stephen KingI Write Like. Analyze your writing!
Of course, I plugged in two different excerpts and got Dan Brown and J.D. Salinger, but I'm sticking with King. You knew I would, now didn't you? Click the link if you're interested in finding out who you write like. Or who your specific bit of chosen text is written like...

I'm almost ready for Christmas. Of course "almost" is relative. But basically I haven't started yelling, "Hallelujah! Holy shit! Where's the Tylenol?" yet. So, I'm counting that as a victory. :)

Ho, ho, ho!
Sommer

My big, fat, jolly list of ideas for gift giving!

If you're like me, you have a 'one for you one for me' version of holiday shopping. I can go all year long without shopping for myself, but then when I Christmas shop, bam! all kinds of stuff I want for myself. I've always considered myself lucky that my birthday kicks off December because I almost always have birthday money in tow to satisfy my urgent coveting of items.

I've broken it down into a few categories, but basically these are things I have been using or have just discovered that I have fallen in love with. I'll cop to being inspired by Alison Tyler's gift guides (go to her blog and check them out) so I'll give her a friendly little wave and blow her a kiss for the inspiration.

For gluten free folks in your life:

I have always used Pamela's Baking and Pancake Mix. On a whim I tried the oatmeal cookie mix, unusual for me because I am a proud and loud from-scratch baker. But lately I can abide by some shortcuts. They were phenomenal. So I tried some other of their products. Besides the two already mentioned, I highly recommend the Pizza Crust Mix for the GF people in your life because...well, one word: Focaccia. I haven't even used it as pizza dough yet but I made the Focaccia and it was inhaled. But not just by me! By two teens with expert palates. The all purpose artisan flour mix is great too--helped me to master gf pie crust. Again, I usually make my own flour but I always try to have some pre-made stuff in my house for those urgent baking cravings.

On to...

The fitness nuts in your life:

It's no secret that in April I became addicted to T25. Thirty pounds, multiple smaller jean sizes and size Medium shirts later...I tried Hip Hop Abs Ultimate Results. Love it! Despite having no rhythm at all, I have a great time dancing with this program and I've actually developed a tiny bit of skill in the area. Oh, there will be no The Hot Chick style dance-offs in my future, but I look forward to working out every day (and still mix in T25). My Xmas gift to myself was Shaun T's InsanityMAX: 30 and though I haven't tried it yet, I am super duper excited (or just masochistic).


For the readers:

I have a few. YA books I recommend are Barry Lyga's I Hunt Killers series. Girl child read them, I followed suit and I'm currently reading the third and final book of the trilogy. Also, approved by yours truly and her female offspring is Eventide by Christine Allen-Riley. Girl child actually beta read for this book and I bought her a gorgeous print copy now placed in a prized position on her hunormous bookshelf. Mystery/thriller lovers, again, I have one word: Mo Hayder. The Jack Caffery books are dark, addictive and breathtaking. My favorites (I have read them all at this point and am out...*sniffle*) were Birdman, The Treatment, Poppet and the most recent Wolf. Fabulous writing that never lets up. It's like being on a runaway locomotive of reading. And finally, dirty book readers, I recommend you stuff your beloved's Kindle with Alison Tyler's recent mini books Alison on the Rocks and Alison on Top. Alison never disappoints when it comes to kink, sex and a old-fashioned damn fine storytelling.

And why not treat yourself to my Christmas novella 'tis the Season? Just for a small reading break. Perhaps with a glass of wine and a gluten free cookie or five.



For the tippler in your life:

Now Alison Tyler (like Elf on the Shelf she just keeps popping up!) sent me these for my birthday [sadly unavailable at the mo :( ]and they were in one of her gift guides, but I'm repeating here. The Wines that Rock [a different selection in the link] wines weren't just awesomely cool to look at but they were tasty, tasty, tasty too. So you could go ahead and satisfy a music lover who loves to sip some vino with one gift. Also, I have discovered in the last year: Pimm's! When I say discovered I mean became addicted too. A bottle of Pimm's, a bottle of lemonade, some 7Up and a cool glass and you have yourself a prezzie. And let's not forget, the lovely author who sent me a gift card to DrinkUpNY! (Thank you again, JA). Anyways, they ship booze, have good prices, great service and really, let's tell the truth, what is better than getting a freaking UPS man to bring your booze right to your house? Nothing! Unless Santa's bringing it.


Music!:
Girl child, despite my distaste (or so I claim) of all things a cappella, girl child has gotten me hooked on Pentatonix and well...see for yourself. *I had a video embedded but Youtube apparently farted and something got messed up. So I had to take it down. Search: Mary did you Know? It'll pop up first thing!

Also, boy child introduced me to Noah Gunderson who does something to my soul. Seriously...






And though it's not music, thanks to a random comment on FB from Willsin Rowe, we discovered and became hooked on Mike Birbiglia's Sleepwalk with Me.



I have more, but your eyes are probably crossing by now. If you have any gifties you're giving that you want to share, let loose in the comments. And I can't believe it...an honest to goodness blog this time. It's crazy. Seems like forever. You're amazed aren't you?  I know...

XOXO
Sommer