Sommer Marsden's Blog, page 36

"...bringing both pleasure and pain to her life"

Cover your ears. Okay? Covered?

[insert high pitched happy noises here]

 
The December issue of RT Book Reviews Magazine is out and I'm in it. Moi. My book Restricted Release received 4 stars and a very nice review. I couldn't be happier. I've put a screenshot just as proof (heh) but the full review is in the magazine (or the digital version if you get that).
I started this week a radio interview virgin and a RT Magazine virgin (barring nice mentions for shorts in anthologies) and now I have been de-virginized on both fronts. Whew. Busy, busy week.
Oh and I got to pet a horse today so my week is complete!
XOXOSommer

Oh, you nasty...what?!

Last Christmas Angell sent me a waterproof pad/pencil set as a gift. I loved it! As you are about to see. True, I have jotted more than my fair share of book notes (tearing them off and taking them with me at the end if NSFK) soaking wet and naked in the shower since I received this gift, but...we also tend to leave each other notes. Or ya know...mess with each other.

I was just upstairs brushing my teeth and from the corner of my eye I saw one of the saved notes sticking out of a basket. All I could see was:

Oh, you nasty--
Stop. That.--
Nasty...

I almost fainted. I thought I had left some hurriedly scrawled dialogue out for the under NC17 crowd to see. When I picked it up, I nearly choked on my toothpaste.

It was, in fact, me and girl child messing with the man with Janet Jackson's Nasty Boys. Ha! At the time they were running Psych spots (see below) and the kids and I would randomly start singing it. For some reason it was pleasing to 3 of the 4 of us. So, it tickled me and girl child especially to mess with the man. The note above goes thusly:

line 1: me
line 2: the man
line 3: me
line 4: girl child  (that's my girl!)
line 5: me
line 6: the man

Then below that is gooshy 17th anniversary notes.

Just some proof that we really are as strange as I think we are and that I still love my waterproof notepad Angell!! :)

Happy Friday!

XOXO
Sommer

On the radio...

Oh my God. I did it. First radio interview ever. Ande Lyons had me on her Bring Back Desire show. Wanna hear it? Links are below. Come back and tell me what I said...because I have absolutely no recollection.

At. All.

Blog Talk Radio  
Bring Back Desire
iTunes

Or here! Embedded:

Find Additional Relationships Podcasts with After Dark Radio Show with Ande Lyons on BlogTalkRadio
Tada. Have to say, Ande made it nice and fun and easy. She must be a magical creature because I spent the morning feeling like I'd swallowed a sparkler. :/

XOXO
Sommer

And did you get my 70s title reference? Here ya go! :
photo credit: jgh_photo via photopin cc

more words

(This is a honey pot. Not...that. These are incredibly nice actually. Buy 'em HERE)


Once upon a time I wrote this post. I just read it and it cracked me up. Because it is STILL TRUE! I just had a book come out with a main character named Matthew (Restricted Release). I JUST wrote a short with the name Jason in it. And I still do story echoes. Meaning, I will write a short using a name or now, I've added a new thing, an occupation and then echo that somehow in a longer work.

Hey, more bang for your buck, I guess! (or name or occupation).

But I was driving today thinking there are more words I hate. They are just general words though. Not necessarily dirty words you'd find in erotica. But some are. Here goes:

fecund
unctuous (every time they say this on the word on The Cooking Channel I cringe)
roomy (I hear Doctor Lecter in my head when I hear this word. "Was she a big girl? Roomy?")
husky (as an adjective, not the dog. I love the dog!)
dribble
saliva
moist

euphemisms:
honey pot (or a pot of any kind)
cooze
twat
boobies (the one exception is the Save the Boobies bracelets for breast cancer awareness. I guess my real issue with boobies is hearing a grown man say the word boobies. Hey, grown men, don't say boobies, m'kay? Good. Thanks.)

There!  As always, I'd love to hear you words so please share in the comments. Must tell you, that you do not see another words I love section here because um...those words are pretty much the same. Said the writer. Shame, shame, shame on me.

XOXO
Sommer

In honor of all things that shuffle and moan...guest blogger Tamsin Flowers

It's The Walking Dead day here! I am so excited to see what's up tonight on TWD. The anticipation is even higher thanks to watching all three seasons with the man recently. So, away we go with some zombies from Tamsin Flowers:


Hi,
I know that Sommer's zombie-friendly, so I was thrilled when she invited me to bring my new erotic zombie release over to her blog. Zombie Erotoclypse is a collection of five short stories about the loves and lusts of - obviously - zombies!

This is the blurb:

Have you ever wondered whether zombies have sex? Fall in love? Lust after humans? The five stories in this red hot collection of zombie erotica will answer all these questions and more. If you thought it was tough being a teenage virgin, try it zombie style or why not take a visit to the club where humans get to have their wicked way with hot young zombies - for a price... Meet the Peeping Zom, who develops an obsession with a hot human blonde. Who looks after new zombies and teaches them the art of zombie love-making? And how would you react if the love of your life came home one evening with a zombie bite?


And here's an excerpt from my story I Was a Teenage Zombie Virgin:

Being a teenager has always been tough - but being a teenage zombie is a hundred time's harder! Eighteen-year-old zombie John has just been rescued from a baying mob of vigilantes by a girl he used to know before he became a zombie. She saved him for the sake of her brother who, when bitten by a zombie, was taken from the family and exterminated.

I knew her then.  I'd seen her around.  I'd imagined her naked and I'd fucked her in my imagination.  And now?  God, I wanted her more badly than anything I'd ever wanted in my life—the life she'd just saved. Even in my warped zombie mind, I knew I owed her everything.
"Come on," she said, gesturing me to follow her.
I ambled after her, up the path to the front door and, to my amazement, inside.  The house was a mess—the kitchen and the walk-through living room a paean to fast-food living.  Pizza boxes, burger containers, Chinese take-out pails and bags, cups and cartons from every fast-food joint in a five-mile radius.  I guessed Eve didn't cook much, or anyone else who lived here for that matter.  I stood looking round, not knowing what I was meant to do with myself.  My social graces had long since slipped away.
"I was right, wasn't I?" she said.  "You're not going to hurt me."
I shook my head and tried to speak. All I could articulate was a grunt.  But I knew I'd sooner die than hurt this beautiful creature who had delivered me from evil. Like I said, every zombie has the vestige of the human he once was flickering inside him, and at that moment, I forgot our differences.  I forgot that I was zombie and she was a healthy girl.  I forgot that all I wanted to do was fuck her and then eat her and I caught her up in my arms and held her tight against my chest.
She looked up at me, her dark hair curling in sweaty tendrils round her forehead, her liquid brown eyes full of trust.  I bent my head and I kissed her.  I kissed her in a way that I'd never kissed a girl before I was a zombie.  Our lips met, hers so soft compared with mine, rough and chaffed and scabby.  Her mouth opened and her tongue glided against my mouth, applying a gentle pressure until I let it slip inside.  I can't say how it must have compared with her other experiences of kissing, though it was obvious she'd had some, but for me it was sublime.  Fireworks and flares went off in my gut and a burning sensation made my cock surge forward against my cut-offs.  I heard a low, guttural moaning, like an animal in pain, and took a moment to realize that it was me.  I held her close against my chest and through the thin fabric of our T-shirts, her nipples felt like rough pebbles.
Her arms slipped round behind me and started pulling up my shirt and I followed her lead, drawing her tank up to reveal the soft curve of her belly.  It made me catch my breath and I felt suddenly dizzy.
"Eve," I managed to grunt, not knowing where to put my hands—onto the soft flesh now revealed or to carry on pulling the garment off her.
"Shhhh," she whispered in my ear.  "Come."
She stood up and tossed her top to one side.  Then, as I gawped, open-mouthed, at her small, perfect breasts, she grabbed my hand and led me up the stairs to her bedroom.  This room was junk food free but there were clothes all over the floor and the bed sheets were tangled and grimy.  Did I give a shit?  It was literally months, probably more than a year, since I'd been in a bed and here I was, diving into the softness with the most divine, half-naked angel.
I lay down on my back and Eve lay on top of me and started kissing me again, running her hands through the tangled mat of my hair, making little sighing noises that completely melted me inside.  I took my time to explore her mouth with my tongue—I was in no hurry for this to be over—it was the moment I'd been dreaming of for so long.  Her teeth were smooth as porcelain, hard and sharp in contrast to the soft swirl of her tongue against mine.  Her saliva tasted sweet to me and the warmth of her breath on my face was like an additional caress.
When she let her mouth drop from mine and down onto my chest, I buried my face in her hair.  Even unwashed and unkempt as she was, she smelled unbelievably good—human sweat is a million times less acrid than zombie sweat, which was all I'd caught a whiff of in months.  She sucked tantalizingly on my nipples, sparking new sensations that rippled through me like electric current, and she twisted them until I grunted with the pleasure of the pain.

I hope you enjoyed it! And if you want more, why not take a look at my new short story collection, Zombie Erotoclypse? It's available from:

Amazon.com
Amazon UK
Smashwords
Barnes & Noble
Kobo


Author bio: Tamsin Flowers
Tamsin Flowers loves to write light-hearted erotica, often with a twist in the tail/tale and a sense of fun.  In the words of one reviewer, 'Ms Flowers has a way of describing sexual tension that forces itself upon your own body.' Her stories have appeared in a wide variety of anthologies and she is now graduating to novellas with the intention to pen her magnum opus in the very near future.  In the meantime, like most erotica writers, she finds herself working on at least ten stories at once: while she figures out whose leg belongs in which story, you can find out more about her at Tamsin's Superotica or Tamsin Flowers. Follow her on Twitter @TamsinFlowersor on Facebook Tamsin Flowers.

Off by a day...

I missed it by a day. 18 years ago yesterday (10/10) the man got down on his knees (two, not one. i was sitting on the sofa waiting for him to be ready to go out), wedged himself between my thighs and asked me to marry him. I said yes. Duh, of course I did.

Today I texted him: 18 YEARS AGO YESTERDAY YOU PROPOSED TO ME
He texted back: BEST DAY EVER

I tend to agree.

XOXO
Sommer
photo credit: lizzybeans11 via photopin cc

"[it] was like putting a key in a lock that I didn’t even know existed"

In case you missed it on Twitter and FB, I posted a link to my author interview over at Go Deeper Press . I talk about writing, my story Echo Chamber, and writing sex scenes. Go check it out when you get a moment.

And...

While she was on my blog (see the one right below this one!) I was over at Lynn Townsend's Paid by the Weird with not one but two NSFW snippety-snips! My guest blog is about exhibitionism and well, just go see for yourself... GO SEE BY CLICKING HERE .

Happy hump day! Go get humping!

XOXO
Sommer

Guest Blogger: Lynn Townsend ~ Blood Cries Up

I have treats for you today, no trick! Guest blogger Lynn Townsend taking about her brand spanking new book!Here we go:

I started out this short story with no idea what I was doing; I had an image in my head of a ghost perched on the side of a gravestone, looking at a mourner. So, I started asking all the writerly questions; who's mourning? What happened? Why are they in the graveyard when a ghost can see them at all? Cemeteries usually being closed at sunset and all; despite what Hollywood would have you believe, it's not that easy to get into a boneyard at night.
I worked through that part, I had the situation set up... and then I got stuck on the bad guy.
So I turned to my SME (Subject Matter Expert.)
Me: Hey, if you were an evil villain -Husband: What do you mean, if? Me: Well, let's say you could separate a soul from its body. Why would you do that?Husband: Depends which part I was using. Does the body function without the soul? Takes orders? Simple orders or two step-directions? In either case, I'd probably have it fight other creatures to find out if it was useful as a soldier. If it can kill a large dog, it's useful by itself. If not, I may need a whole army of them. Maybe the soul would power some other arcane device. The possibilities are endless!
Sometimes it's nice having your own resident evil genius...
and other times... it's a bit disturbing.

Blurb: Since the death of his sister, Dariel's been haunting her grave. Then he meets Zach. It's love at first sight -- unfortunately Zach is a ghost. An accidental possession results in Zach moving into Dariel's body, but before they can fully figure that out, they learn that there's more to Zach's death that the suicide it had seemed -- much more. With the help of the cemetery cat, Dariel and Zach will have to confront the diabolic Isaac Caine and return Zach's soul to its proper resting place.

Author Bio: Lynn Townsend is a geek, a dreamer and an inveterate punster. When not reading, writing, or editing, she can usually be found drinking coffee or killing video game villains. Lynn's interests include filk music, romance novels, octopuses, and movies with more FX than plot.

Buy Link: http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=96&products_id=4030
Coming soon to Amazon!
http://paidbytheweird.blogspot.com/ (blog)https://www.facebook.com/LynnTownsendwriter (Facebook Page)https://twitter.com/tisfan (Twitter)http://www.amazon.com/Lynn-Townsend/e/B005OQA0AA (Amazon Author Page)

The Amazing Shrinking Penis...

So if you were around this Saturday you might have seen this:  

 That was me hitting the wall. So to speak.    


I've been told recently, by more than one person, that I'm brave. That's sweet. But funny. Because the last thing I feel right now is brave. I feel like a hot mess. A *flaming* hot mess who is streaking down the road toward the looney bin.
But I digress.
The bottom line is you get to a point sometimes when under pressure where you hit critical mass and I hit it. So I sort of...retracted into myself. Like a penis. Yep, I'm a writer, that's what I said. My simile is that I was an amazing shrinking penis. LOL.
I signed off and fell backwards into the craziness that is my world. Quietly. I said nothing on Twitter or Facebook or my blog. I just...was.
I took really long walks...and cried.I baked...and cried.I took super long showers...and cried.I watched movies and I read and I puttered and I cleaned a lot and through most of it...I cried.I drove girl child to Barnes and Noble and okay, on this one, I laughed so hard in the car with her I nearly...wait for it...cried.I just was quiet in my world and I surrendered to the weight of it.
If you're ever looking for a super sedative might I recommend the long walk with crying in tandem. It turns you into a boneless zombie who is, to quote Pink Floyd, comfortably numb. Ironically, I ate a lot less. I guess because it was okay for me to just sit and stare, stunned and exhausted, at the wall. I did not have to eat a pan of brownies to help me keep on my happy/brave face.
I gave myself permission to fall apart. And boy, did I ever.
But I feel better now.
You might wonder why I'm telling you this. Am I one of those people who need to Instagram my whole life? Post updates like "ate breakfast", "ate lunch", "went pee". Nope. (Though I admit I do post stupid shit from time to time). I'm telling you this on the off chance that one, just one, person might read this who needs to. One person whose husband or wife had just been diagnosed with cancer or some equally humbling and terrifying disease. One person whose significant other had started chemo. Or radiation. Or is about to undergo surgery.
If one person reads this and thinks, I do not feel brave, I feel like I am ready for the rubber room...if that person sees this and says, oh, I'm not alone. It's okay to feel like this. They see brave, I see crumbling...
It's okay. Trust me. It will pass. It will come back. And then it will pass again. You're going to want to give up. I do most days. But don't. Keep going. Keep pressing on. Cry if you need to. Rage if it feels good. Hug that person that you love. And let him or her know how you feel. And feel it together.
Trust me, I know what I'm talking about, I'm the amazing shrinking penis.
XOXOS

The flaming ball of chaos hurtles toward...

Justine Elyot! Today I'm talking about scarf bondage at none other than Justine Elyot's blog. Yay for Justine! Yay for scarves! Yay for dark haired women giving you a gift...(of orgasms)

And yay for you, dear reader, following along on this flame ball of chaos that is my 'blog tour'. You rock, you roll, you boogie to the music.



Stay tuned!

XOXO
Sommer
photo credit: bamalibrarylady via photopin cc