Sommer Marsden's Blog, page 63

Look at me in South Africa!

Okay. So not...*me*. But my one collection is there in the Durban Airport (Hard Lessons) and I am in a buncha those anthos in the first picture (can't tell you which ones b/c I am senile) and also the Liaisons collection in picture two.

I am always sooooo stoked when people spot me out in the wild and let me know. This one was courtesy of KD Grace and her amazing man Raymond. Also "pictured" are the likes of Justine Elyot, Lucy Felthouse, Kay Jaybee, and many more! It's amazing how many of us are smushed there together on those shelves :)

Now, if I could just run around *here* and spot my books I'd probably die of happiness. One day, I guess. One day. Which reminds me, folks, if you have authors out there you'd love to see in your bookstore. Talk to the associates or a manager. Ask. It's how things happen in this business. One little request at a time.

Have a super...Thursday. I had to think for a minute. *snort* Shocking, I know. Come back tomorrow for a guest blog by...a guest blogger. Heh. Woohoo!

XOXO
Sommer

"tickled my sweet-tooth as well as other places."

Author Preston Avery offers up her take on my story Six p.m. The After-Dinner Hour   found in Alison Tyler's book Morning, Noon and Night. Read the mini review HERE, check out the previous ones and look for more coming soon! Last week I waxed poetic about Cora Zane's 4 p.m. No Show . I can still smell that strawberry incense ;)

XOXO
S

And boil and drain and stir fry and...

then woohoo! Less than two weeks to the release of Passionate Cooks from All Romance Ebooks and my recipe's inside. :D When the call went out, I wanted to be in the book, instantly. I love to cook, I couldn't imagine not trying to get a recipe included. But even more than being in the book, I wanted to send in a gluten free recipe. Since about three years ago when I was finally diagnosed (mostly by myself at first) I've been cooking gluten free. At first most attempts were fair to middlin. Some were awful. Now most dishes are indecipherable as gluten free. And that's the way it should be. So my lo-mein-ish recipes is a nod to yummy food that everyone can eat.

Huzzah!

Also, must say, I was peeking through the recipes when reading for edits and oh my goodness. So many I want to try. Thank goodness after three years I can convert damn near anything to GF. It's not so hard once you get the hang of it. ;) But some foods are naturally GF and ass spanking good. As I imagine BA Tortuga's Ranch Hands to be. You really need this book. Put it on your wish list and get cooking!

XOXO
Sommer

ALLEYWAYS (a review)

I'm no stranger to the hometown ink that is Smile, Hon, You're in Baltimore! I've graced the pages a few times, both as myself and...well this self whose blog you're reading. Somewhere along they way Smile, Hon has become the man's cigar reading of choice. Which is why I am finally getting around to penning my thoughts on the current issue.

He's tired of waiting for this copy.

So here we go. What to say about the Alleyways issues of my favorite indie mag? What else? Awesome. Full of tales you're sure must be invented (I'm betting they're not, this is Baltimore after all), poetry, and just plain engaging writing. I thoroughly enjoyed the issue (and took my good sweet time doing it, too). It's jam packed with black and white photos and back alley sagas. It was hard to narrow down a favorite in a field of poetry, the story of arguing over a 'homeless' cat with a sex worker, or a spectacular vehicular blizzard standoffs in the street (a particularly fine tale seeing as it brought back warm fuzzy memories. My son was conceived during that blizzard. Hey, you can only shovel so much, you know.)

I did manage to pick a favorite though. Or rather, somehow it picked me. Queenie and the Boys by Dean Bartoli Smith, was the standout piece for me (there's always one). With nothing but words, it slammed me back to my own alleyways. My trips to the A&P with my grandmother and popping caps with rocks behind her house with my cousin. I remembered my grandfather driving a truck for Pepsi and riding down to pick him up from work. The dreaded warnings of eating "the devil" when steamed crabs were on the menu.

In a word, this piece was fucking brilliant. Okay, that's two words. But from a lifelong Baltimore girl, my adoration of those few pages is high praise. I've been here all my life. I could taste my hometown in those words. Very cool.

Queenie and the Boys made me ache just enough--that feels good kind of ache--for my childhood and the days when high entertainment was sitting on a front porch calling out to your neighbors with the Orioles game on the transistor radio as the sun went down. Sometimes I think we all need to get back there. To when life was less complicated. There was something magical about that time. Or maybe it's just because that memory belongs to me.

Either way, if you want to break off a piece of Baltimore you can go here and grab your own four dollar copy. And take a trip down some of our alleyways. Just make sure go watch where yous step. ;)

XOXO
Sommer

Soooooo...slooooooooow...

This week literally bit me on the ass. And though, ya know...*ahem*...I'm usually rather partial to that kind of thing, the whole past 7 days has sort of left me stunned. And slowish. So you probably heard my high pitched screeching over this on Twitter and/or Facebook if you follow me, but I'm finally getting around on putting it up here.

Rachel Kramer Bussel mentioned little ole moi and moi's book Learning to Drown in the new 50 Shades of Grey magazine in the book section. And not just me, super RKB also mentioned Justine Elyot, Alison Tyler, Kristina Wright, Delilah Devlin and a few more authors. So if you're taking a pass on 50 Shades or if you've already devoured it  and want more, take a peek at Rachel's picks to amp up your dirty reading.

Now...I have to put some clothes on. They frown upon one stumbling through the grocery store in Halloween slippers, a Lost Boys tee and some Tootsie Roll Pop pajama pants. I have no idea why.

XOXO
Sommer

zombie love...

Here are two of my zombie love poem submissions so far. Keep 'em coming! You still have weeks to go before we close the contest. (see the top right side bar for info).

That's the whole blog, folks. I am no longer an endoscopy virgin as of 7 a.m. this morning. It went well but I'm sorta tired, like lazy and not wanting to do anything-ish. So I'm reading Ray Bradbury and watching TV. And the dachshund is looking at me as I lay sprawled on the sofa as if to say: "...you're in my spot!"

I figured I'd give you something fun today! Enjoy.

XOXO
Sommer

Three Brains 
by t'Sade

Crawling around her house
My cold heart no longer beats
In my slimy, rotting chest.
I remember love for her...
Or at least the growing hunger
That resides in my belly.

I don't remember what brought me back.
I guess it was the dim memory
Of her breasts straining in her shirt:
"If these were brains"

I love her brains, all three of them.
Maybe she'll let me worship them.

And love her forever...


~~~~~

Zombie Groupie
(sung to the tune of Green Acres)
by Kissa Starling

Grave-yards are the place to be,
Sexy undead all around me,
Twirl that tattered clothing far and wide,
Tongue me zombie and take me for a ride.

The bite!    Sooo right!
Stiff Dick!  Me lick!

I give my life, you'll see no strife.

Just kill me zombie friend!

Why in the name of all that is holy...

do I have this stuck in my head for no reason? Poof! It was simply there. Sometimes I think I'm picking up a radio station from space. LOL. Just a quick howdy and a wave. *wave*. Not much to report this week. It's simply been utter chaos. Which won't end until tomorrow evening. So...yeah. Hope yours is going great!

XOXO
Sommer
p.s. Give me your zombie love poems! See below. Roses are red, brains are sorta blue, you lost all your limbs, but I still dig you...(see, easy! ;) )

Sometimes the impossible does happen...

The man and I proved that five years ago today when we both quit smoking. Cold turkey. We'd tried multiple times--he always did better than me--and had failed. But this time we managed. Proving the impossible things can happen. I was that person who lit cigarettes off her cigarettes. Now I haven't had a single puff in five years. Go figure. So...yay us! And if you're reading this and trying to quit, keep going. It can work for you.

XOXO
Sommer
p.s. Go below and write me a bad ass zombie love poem. You could win stuff!

Ode to a zombie...*A CONTEST*

Zombies seem to be in my head at the moment. Stuck in my braaaaaaaaaaaain, if you will. I'm up to my eyeballs in the undead as I read for Coming Together: Hungry for Love and I just recently got my hot little hands on copies of my paperback release from Resplendence Publishing. Zombie Exterminators is the paperback compilation of the first 3 zombie exterminator books. It includes We Kill Dead Things, No Guilt and Lunatic Fringe. And you can get a copy. On me! Along with some zombie breath mints to keep your breath kissably fresh while you fight the zombie hordes. But wait! There's more! If you're feeling the urge to recreate some zombie carnage, there's a little zombie finger puppet, too.

What do you have to do? Well...write me a zombie love poem of course! It can be serious, gruesome, funny or frightening. Long, short or in between. Whatever you want. Put your thinking caps on (to protect your brain of course) and send me your best work.

Shoot your sonnets, poems and odes to sommermarsden[at]gmail[dot]com marked Zombie Love Poem. I'll leave the contest running until the end of the month (September 30th) and announce a winner October 1. If you're the winner, I'll send you your undead loot!

Please include in your submission email if I have your permission to run your poem on my blog, should I choose to.

I hope to see your best zombie love poem soon! :)

XOXO
Sommer

"when she drew on him with a soft sucking motion, he made a very unmanly sound"

Tada! Finally a snippet from my story Sugarshuttle Express. It's available SINGLY without illustrations (apparently Kindle, Smashwords etc nix the pics) or as part of the amazing print collection Naked Delirium. I hope you'll check it out. I recommend the paperback if you can swing it, the illustrations are gorgeous and Sweetmeats Press puts out some nice books. Hefty books. Good stuff! If you want to see an example look Sweetmeats Press up on Facebook for some examples.

Away we go. Happy weekend. I have high hopes. Street fair, Doctor Who, lots of...not doing anything. Copious amounts of that, in fact.

XOXO
Sommer

From Sugarshuttle Express by Sommer Marsden



“It’s pink,” Wren cooed and Daniel watched her shake the tiny container.“Indeed it is, pretty lady.  It just naturally dries that way but it’s a nice touch.  Pretty ladies like pretty treats.”   The guy — his name was Tate — touched Wren’s fingertip.  Daniel felt himself bluster, a ripple working through him and the urge to grab the guy and clock him.  But he didn’t.“Look, Danny.  It’s pink,” Wren said again.When she smiled at him and entirely different urge thrust through the middle of him.  Not the urge to attack but the urge to kiss.  She was so fucking gorgeous.  Some part of him had hoped this little trip of theirs would bring them closer.  Maybe show Wrenny — he was the only one allowed to call her that name — that deep down she loved him as much as he loved her.Or maybe they’d at least fuck.“I see,” Daniel said.“It’s a quick ride.  About three days.  Clean, too,” Tate said, studying the swell of Wren’s tits as he gave his spiel.  “All natural.  I mean, darlin’, we don’t even dye it,” he said, touching the small container.  The root is swirled red and white, sort of looks like a beet, and when we dry it and then grind it it’s…”“Pink,” she laughed.“Pink,” the dealer echoed.“Wow.  What will it do?”“Make you horny, make you happy, mellow…You’ll appreciate the simple things even more,” Tate said laughing.  “There’s euphoria and affection…”Daniel’s ear had stuck on horny.“Sugarshuttle,” Wren said.  “I’d heard about it.  And wanted to try but…” she shrugged and it did amazing things for her breasts.  Her soft grey-blue eyes found Danny and she winked at him.It went straight to his cock.  He looked away, coughed once.  Tried to push away a vivid mental image of sucking a fetching pebbled nipple between his lips.“Sugarshuttle Express,” the guy said.  “Clean, fast ride.  No stops, no bumps, no lows.  Worst case scenario, you’ll bang your way through your hiking trip.”This time he eyed Danny and chuckled.“Ready?” Daniel asked Wren.She paid the man and tucked the small container of pink powder in her bra.  God, the woman had a magnificent set of breasts.  But she also had beautiful eyes, gorgeous honey hair, the most perfect ass to grace planet Earth, and a heart of gold.Easy there, cowboy.  He shook his head, annoyed with himself.“Ready Danny?”“Ready,” he said.“Danny.”  The dealer nodded at him, winked again.  Jerk.Or maybe you just think he’s a jerk because he’s good looking and cool as the fucking proverbial cucumber.“It’s Daniel,” Danny said and walked out the door.She caught up to him with a little run — the girl was like a rabbit.  When she grabbed his arm, it crushed the pillow of her breasts to his arm and Danny felt his face go hot.  Jesus, would that knee-jerk reaction to blush never end?  Nor the automatic imagining of burying himself between her long coltish thighs.  Sinking into her heat.  Making her say his name.“Why were you so mean to him?” she laughed, bouncing along beside him.  “We only have a few days to hike this trail, I thought we could have fun.  I thought you’d have fun.”“I am having fun.”  Christ, even he didn’t believe his own words.“Liar,” she snickered.  “But that’s okay.  I’ve got my best friend, a walking trail and one of the cleanest, most natural, exhilarating highs ever.”“So you’ve read.”“So I’ve read.  And Marylou did it.  She said it was awesome.  It’s when man starts mucking around with chemicals that you get problems, Danny.  But nature…nature knows what she’s doing.”Wren took out the small plastic vial and shook it.  “Want some?”“No thanks.  If it’s not so clean, not so pure, not so…whatever, one of us needs to be clear headed.”Horny…Danny coughed and shook off the thought.“Suit yourself.  But there’s plenty if you change your mind.  He told me half.”She stuck out her pretty pink tongue — causing a rush and a stir in poor Danny’s pants — and poured roughly half the vial of powder along its length.  Then Wren winked and swallowed.“How’s it taste?” he asked, curious.  It also helped him control his body’s urge to give him a sporting erection.“Like…flour,” she said.  “Sort of.”“Yum?”“Not really,” she laughed, bumping him playfully again.  Squashing her chest to his arm again.  Making him crazy…again.  “But it’s what it does, not so much what it tastes like.  Now hurry!” Wren laughed.“Hurry?”She grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the waiting VW Beetle.  “Drive us to the trail where we can park so we can get this fun started.  I figure by the time we get there, the Sugarshuttle Express should be pulling out.”  Then she belted out “Wooo-woooo!” like a train and even Danny couldn’t help but laugh.
***** 




She seemed fine.  She seemed perfectly normal as they grabbed their packs and started to gear up.  She seemed the normal, chatty, sexy, perfect-girl Wren as they walked the first mile.  Then she found a fern.“It’s a fern,” she said, eyes shining.Daniel nodded.  “Yep.  It’s a fern and there…” he pointed.  “There’s a whole slew of ferns.”She laughed, eyes shining and dropped down to examine the bright green fronds.  “I see.”“Wrenny?”She turned to him.  “Come here.  You have to look.”You’ll appreciate the simple things even more…  He heard Tate in his head.Daniel shuffled forward, feeling a stab of unease.  But she smiled and she laughed and she grabbed him by his belt buckle and yanked.  He had no choice — stumble forward or fall.“Wren!”“I said come here.”  She smiled up at him and then pointed to the fern.  He looked, nodded…“Nice.”“Danny?”“Yeah?”  His voice went up just then because with calm and nimble fingers she was wrestling his buckle.  “Hey, um…Wrenny…”“Shhh,” she said.  “I want it.”“You do?”“I do.  Come on.  It’ll be fun.  Aren’t you tired of always being my well behaved male friend?”Fuck yes.“I just don’t want you to think you have to—““Shut.  Up.  Danny.”  The buckle clanked and in the soft air of the forest he literally heard the fabric around his button release.  And then the quiet tearing rip of his zipper going down and then…Oh fuck.“Shutting up,” Danny confirmed as his best friend tugged his pants down.When his cock sprang free and he watched her — her— inch out her blushing pink tongue to lick his flushed glans, his knees felt like they might buckle on him.“You think I’m perfect, Danny.  I’m not perfect.  Aren’t you tired of thinking that?”  She sucked the tip of him into the heated cushion of her mouth and when she drew on him with a soft sucking motion, he made a very unmanly sound.“I don’t think that,” he lied.Wren shuffled forward on her knees and her head bobbed lower.  Her peach colored lips were now firmly half way down his cock and his gut was alive with a buzzing like electricity.  She hummed gently, smiling, and the vibration skittered along his skin and inside his blood.  Tiny white dots started to float in his vision and Danny sucked in a breath.  That was what he’d been missing…oxygen.She broke free of him, gasping like a swimmer breaking the surface.  Innocent and yet knowing grey eyes looked up, regarding him.  Wren drew her tongue slowly — sensually — along her bottom lip and then smiled.  “You are lying Danny Brooks.  But that’s okay.  I can prove I’m not perfect — unless perfectly imperfect is what you mean.”He started to say something and she hushed him.  She was all business now.  Her small, slim fingered hands anchoring themselves at the tops of his thighs.  Out in the woods there was very little noise but for the built in soundtrack of birds and bugs and he heard her breathing, breathing like someone who was immensely turned on.Horny…And she took great breaths in through her nostrils as she pushed her charming mouth lower, taking every inch of his hard cock until he felt the soft brush of her mouth on the very root of him.  When her fingers came up to graze over his pubic hair for just a heartbeat before dipping to cradle his balls, Danny knew he was screwed.In the best possible way.She drew on him again, sucking like she was sucking on a straw or a hard candy, her fingers tracing the thin tissue of his sac, sending a shudder through him.  Her eyes found him again, she gave him a half grin, mouth full of him and he felt the wiggle, lick, slide of her tongue on the back of his dick and he was done.“Wrenny —“ But that was as far as he got.  His fingers plunged into her wheat-colored hair and he forgot how very perfect she was and he very briskly, very unmannerly, fucked her pretty mouth until he was cumming with a groan that quieted the forest for just an instant.Wren dropped back onto her elbows and regarded him.  “See?”Danny chuckled, running a shaking hand through is hair.  “You think that a stellar blow job makes you an imperfect girl?”She rolled her eyes.  “Eat my pussy, Danny,” she said.