Anything But An Average Sommer

It's always such a pleasure to have the wonderfully talented, and incredibly funny Sommer Marsden drop by. But even more so when she's brought with her another set of characters for us to fall in love with. She's here on her "pseudo-blog" (her term, not mine) tour to share her latest offering Poster Boy for Average. Which, let me tell you, is anything but. Just as Sommer is exquisite and unique, so is this tale of a modest man who must be shown that he is, indeed, above average.

And so, without further gilding the lily, and with no more ado (bonus points if you can tell me what movie that was from), I give you Sommer Marsden!

Longing is lovely. Don’t you think? To write it is a pleasure. To write it about two characters I adore is heaven. So when I wrote this scene I made sure to pause and savor that painful little ache it triggered. But the breathy kind of want that followed swiftly on its tail… 

XOXO 

Sommer 

Excerpt: 

Once she’d fed Bruce and made arrangements for Bradlee and Laura to come get him after school, she marched across the lawn that separated her and Mike and knocked.  

“What are you doing?” she muttered. “This is ridiculous. This is just an excuse to see him.”  

And it was. She knew it was and she didn’t give a shit. She wanted him to know she’d be gone for various reasons. They ranged from in case someone broke into her house or it burned down, to if he needed her she wouldn’t be there. And yes, part of her hoped beyond reasonable sane-person hope that he would miss her. Some. At least a little.  

A bit.  

It wasn’t even seven a.m. so she rang the bell. Best for him to hear her. When she heard the chain slide back her heart jack-rabbited and she had the irrational urge to flee. Instead, she straightened her spine and stood there waiting.  

Mike opened the door and regarded her with bloodshot eyes.  

“Hi,” he said, leaning forward against the door jamb.  

“You look like shit,” Aubrey blurted.  

“Why thank you. Did you stop by just to tell me that?”  

She snorted and quickly covered her face. “No. I actually came by to tell you…” Her tongue didn’t want to put the words out.  

He opened the door wide and stepped back. “Why don’t you come in and tell me? It’s weird keeping you out there.”  

She’d kept him out there the night before. But it had been midnight and she’d been—  

Hurt. Unsure.  

Aubrey stepped inside and realized she’d never been inside before. Her eyes went to the sofa. It was milk-chocolate brown, deep, cushiony and rumpled all to hell. A throw lay tangled at one end as if he’d camped out there all night. An infomercial ran on TV, so she was pretty sure her guess was accurate.  

“Tell me what?” He hooked a finger at her and went into the downstairs half-bath. He took a swig of mouthwash, swished it and recapped it. “Sorry, didn’t want to kill you with my dragon breath.”  

“I wanted to tell you,” she said, so close to him in the small room she couldn’t seem to draw a deep enough breath, “that I’m going away for three or four days.”  

“Is it three or four?” He grinned at her. Between the grin and the unreadable blue eyes and the sleep corkscrews in his hair, she felt the draw of attraction in the pit of her stomach. She tried to shake it off but it refused to be shaken.  

“Not sure. Can’t remember.”  

“Can’t remember?” He touched the underside of her wrist with his fingertip. Simply stroked gently above her pulse. That small gesture nearly undid her.  

“Yeah. I just got the call. I’m going to Key West.”  

“Business or pleasure?”  

The word pleasure made her knees feel all buckly and such. “Business. Shooting a calendar. Which reminds me. They want to use one of my shots of you. For December. But I was thinking when I get back I could…” She was staring at his bare chest. He’d slept in his jeans, but that was all. Aubrey realized she could see the tanned skin jump softly with each beat of his heart. Judging by the pace of the jumps, his heart was beating a little fast.  

Just like hers.  

“Could what?”  

She did two things simultaneously. She took a step back but she reached out to touch that leaping skin. Her fingers came in contact and he stepped toward her just as she retreated.  

“Could set up one of my fake trees and take some shots. So you really look all Decembery.” Her hand was now splayed against his warm skin. She could feel his heartbeat now. Not just see it.  

“That’s fine.” He looked down at her hand and she glanced at his jeans. He was hard. She could see it. And the visual coaxed a shivery little sigh out of her. “You’re touching me.”  

“You’re wanting me,” she replied. Why had she said that? 

Indie photographer and book cover artist Aubrey Singleton is living up to her last name. A long summer at the lake has cured her of her recent breakup, and she’s embracing life as a single woman. What she’s not prepared for is to come back home to find she has a handsome new single neighbor. 

Mike Sykes is a roofer—though he’s afraid of heights—a father of two and recently divorced. Oh and one might classify him as smoking hot. 

The photographer in Aubrey is smitten, the single woman in her is breathless. She’s ready to make Mike a star—on book covers and, though she’s wary of a broken heart, in her life. He’s not so sure. Mike sees himself as a life complication due to his younger son’s illness, and not hot by a long shot. In fact, he thinks he’s the poster boy for average. 

But a “business” trip to Key West, rife with hunky models, sets a backdrop for a shot at true love… 

Buy it here!

 

Ellora’s Cave: 

http://www.ellorascave.com/poster-boy-for-average.html 

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00K0J0LLO/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B00K0J0LLO&linkCode=as2&tag=sommmars-20&linkId=W3DYE53RUZ5AWARZ 

ARe:  

https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-posterboyforaverage-1498148-149.html 

About the Author: 

Professional dirty word writer, gluten free baker, sock addict, fat wiener dog walker, expert procrastinator. Called "one of the top storytellers in the erotic genre" by Violet Blue, Sommer Marsden writes for HarperCollins Mischief, Ellora's Cave, Excessica, Xcite Books and Resplendence Publishing. She's the author of numerous erotic novels including Poster Boy for Average, The Accidental Cougar, Lost in You, and Learning to Drown. Visit http://sommermarsden.blogspot.com

Delicious and Devine (Blog tour)

Well, y'all were here for Alison's Dark Secret Love Tour, when she stopped by and answered a few questions for us.

 

Today, I bring you a review of part two of her tale. In The Delicious Torment, it's fair to say that our heroine,Sam, has herself in a hell of a situation - and she's loving every minute of it. Even if Jack keeps her off balance.

She delves further into the darkest corners of his mind - all the while trying to find her way into his heart. With the further introduction of Alex into their relationship, Sam is constantly questioning her place with Jack. The paths he leads her down are darker than the ones she's been down before, and although she seems reluctant to accept that this is what she wants as well, she's eager to show him she'll do anything to please him.

Even when it involves watching him with another woman while her heart gets ripped from her chest.

The use of Alex as another tool in Jack and Sam's arrangement is nothing short of mesmerizing. I find myself liking Alex more and more, and disapproving more of Jack. I find him over-the-top arrogant, and, in certain places, totally without a soul. With Alex, you can see through his snotty veneer, and maybe it's because he mirrors Sam in so many ways, that he tugs at my heart.

When he's at his most vulnerable, I want to take him in my arms and rock him like a child. It's moments like that when I wish Sam would turn her back on Jack, despite the fact that he is giving her exactly what she wants, even though she's never quite aware of that in the moment. But I can't see her and Alex making a genuine go of it, as they are remarkably similar, and that would lead to boredom and confusion rather quickly.

I'll admit - I know nothing of BDSM apart from reading about it. But this series so far, gives readers a good insight into the world, without window dressing. It strips it bare, and is unapologetic for it. Alison's writing has always been honest and straight forward. It's pretty without being obvious. And it appears effortless, though most of us know better.

The results are always highly entertaining plot lines, characters to fall in love with, and an insatiable appetite for the next one.

As always, when it comes to Alison's books, I am on the edge of my seat, eagerly anticipating the rest of the journey.


Catch up with the rest of the tour! Find the schedule here. And while you're there, find out what our favourite Trollop with a Laptop is up to.

If you don't have your copy yet, check out The Delicious Torment at Amazon UK, Amazon US or at your local book store.

Rated "R"....

I know! I know, I'm late....AGAIN.

As it does every November, work got in the way. I would have rather been here, posting with you fine folks, then keeping company with horses, sheep, and lots of cows. Although there is something to be said for keeping the company of the fine-ass ring crew that constantly has me in stitches and makes it not seem so much like work - but more about them at a later date.

I am proud to say, hotties and heaux, that I am the last stop on Ms. Sommer Marsden's Restricted Release kinda-sorta-almost-coulda-been-a-real-blog-tour. Heh. Love that.

I read Release as soon as it came out - and I've been a horrible friend by not posting the most glowing review possible because I love it! And so will you.

That very first kiss... 


I was in love with Matt from that very first kiss. Did I say I? Heh. I meant Clara. *cough*. Totally.

There's something magical about that very first kiss. Especially if it's been a while since you've been kissed.

Clara's hidden herself away for quite some time by the time Matt moves in. She's convinced herself that there's nothing out there for her. Especially love. Especially a man. Especially a shot at happiness.

Isn't it interesting when someone comes along to prove you wrong in the best possible way.

                    All the air had left the room. All of it. I felt like a fish out of water. A girl 

                   chained to the bottom of the pool. I was drowning.

                   But then he kissed me and I could breathe.

I'm not one for being wrong but I think here even I could make an exception.

I mean Clara.

I totally meant Clara...

*cough*

It would be odd to fall in love with a fictional caracher...said the odd woman.

Hey, I never claimed to be normal.

XOXO
Sommer



An Excerpt From: RESTRICTED RELEASE

Copyright © SOMMER MARSDEN, 2013
All Rights Reserved, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.

We sat in the center of his box-cluttered living room floor on a large blanket. Around us was scattered some leftover takeout, cheese, crackers, a box of lemon cookies, mixed nuts, olives, pickles and a bottle of wine.

“This should be disgusting,” he said, eating a pickle with a piece of cheese on a cracker.

“But it‘s so, so good,” I said, eating my own cracker with cheese. I ate it in small nibbles because my stomach was electric.

“Really?” He cocked his head. “Because you barely seem to be eating.” He touched my leg with his bare foot. He was warm.

“I‘m eating.” I pulled the sweatshirt he‘d draped over me close to my body. Besides his sweatshirt, I wore my white slouchy socks and we‘d located my panties.

He held out a box of cookies. “I’m good,” I said.

Matt studied me. “I‘m not as dumb as I look, you know.”

I ate the rest of my cracker and took a sip of wine. It was nice. It had that whiskey aftertaste I usually hate and yet I didn‘t this time. There was enough of a fruity burst in it to temper the oak. “I don‘t think you look dumb at all. I think you look really smart,” I said.

I hoped he didn‘t hear the mixture of annoyance and anxiety in my voice. I wanted to get past the food thing.

No chance.

“So tell me, mysterious neighbor. Why do you seem to be a person who sticks very close to home? Why do you seem so…gun-shy? Is that a good description?”

I tried to nod but my head barely moved.

“I know why I‘ve been a monkish man for almost a year. Why have you been Sister Clara Barrett?”

I cleared my throat. “I don‘t know.”

He cocked his head and then cut his eyes away. He tried to make it look nonchalant, but I knew what he was doing. He was giving me a moment to consider the situation.

“Really?”

“I…”

Matt held up a hand, looking me right in the eye so I felt totally naked. For a crazy moment I felt as if there were no barriers between what was inside of me and what was inside of him. He said, “You were bold enough this morning to straight up tell me you wanted to have sex with me.”

I opened my mouth but he kept that silencing hand up and I shut my mouth with an audible snap. His fingers slipped beneath my sock, circled my ankle and he said very softly, “Please let me finish before you throw up your security fences and barriers.”

My throat was tight. I nodded.

“You were bold enough to watch me in my bathroom. When I probably could have spotted you at any time, and I sorta kind of did at the end there. And…” He squeezed my ankle and the pressure went right to my pussy. “You were bold enough to come over here on a…” He chuckled. “Booty call.”

I made a small noise of protest but then laughed. Our laughter mingled and I felt a rightness I couldn‘t remember feeling. It scared the shit out of me.

“But you won‘t tell me what your history is, Clara?” He didn‘t say it to belittle me. I could tell he wasn‘t angry. It was simply a question to help him understand. And that made me tell him.

I finished my wine in three big gulps and leaned back on my hands, keeping my legs in crisscross-applesauce fashion.

“I was married.” I picked at a loose thread on my sock and then looked at him. His eyes were amazing. Gorgeous and kind and deep—if they were the windows to Matt Millen’s soul, his soul was a wonder of the Universe.

“I‘m going to say this in one big breath and get it over with, okay?” I said, feeling my eyes sting a little. I willed myself not to cry. I could not cry. That would be stupid. That bad part of my life was over. I needed to move past it.

“Okay,” Matt said. His hand stayed around my ankle, loose but comforting. He wasn‘t eating or drinking, but he wasn‘t poking or prodding either. He was waiting. Listening. Paying attention.

“I was married to a man who wasn‘t…nice.” I shrugged but it felt like I was being blasé about something that was anything but. So I stilled my body and went on, willing myself to be strong. “He didn’t beat me or anything. But he carved me up emotionally. My sister Cat once said it would have been better if he had beaten me.” My voice had gotten small. My stomach hurt.

His eyes flashed with anger but he kept his face schooled. “And why is that?”

I blew out a shuddery breath and whispered. “She said that if he‘d left bruises on me—broke bones—I‘d have known that it was wrong. But as it stood, he got inside my head and…” I tapped my temple. “Fucked with me. He played on my biggest fears and weaknesses to control me. It‘s like in those books where you read about demons and possession and Hell,” I laughed. “He infiltrated my brain and he trapped me with my own fear.”

Matt sighed and popped an olive in his mouth. “I‘m going to go out on a limb here, slim lady, and say one of your issues is food and body image?”

My cheeks heated and I nodded, saying nothing at all. I had to fight the urge to cover myself with his sweatshirt. To pull it down over my knees and hide myself in it. It was a war I still waged most days, even thought I was alone about 80 percent of the time.

He watched me. He was waiting.

*****

Blurb:

Clara is the recovering anorexic who’s nearly become a shut-in after the end of her emotionally abusive marriage. Matt is the new boy next door. Graphic artist, nice guy, funny…accepting of Clara.  She wants him, he wants her—but Clara is afraid.

Nadia is the stand-in—Matt’s idea, Clara’s challenge to accept. A longtime friend of Matt’s, she’s a sexual surrogate intended to guide Clara until she’s not afraid of Matt’s desire for her or hers for him. Twosomes become threesomes, watching becomes touching and lust becomes love.

When Matt moved in next door, lust was the last thing Clara expected. Two lovers never crossed her mind. And the need to make a choice was something she thought she’d never encounter. But she’s bolder now, healing, and everything has changed. And a choice must be made, no matter how hard.

Inside scoop: Clara’s healing includes a hot woman who wants to show her how desirable she is, as well as f/m/f menagés.

Available from:
Amazon UK
Amazon US
All Romance eBooks
Ellora’s Cave

*****

Bio

Sommer Marsden’s 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).

Her erotic novels include Restricted Release, Restless Spirit, Boys Next Door, and Learning to Drown. Sommer currently writes erotica and erotic romance for Xcite Books, eXcessica, Ellora’s Cave, Pretty Things Press, Resplendence Publishing and Mischief Books. 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 well over one hundred (and counting) erotic anthologies. Her short stories have also been included numerous adult and romance magazines–both in print and online.Visit her at Unapologetic Fiction http://sommermarsden.blogspot.com

SShhhh - it's a secret... (DSL Blog Tour stop)

Ok, not really. And I'm not so good at keeping secrets anyway.

As I sit here, attempting to figure out how to introduce this, I'm brought back to 2007 - and the first time I saw Alison Tyler's blog. She was - confessing is the closest word I can think of - and keeping her readers on the edge of our seats. It was a tale of shame, of discovery, of release. It was a tale of newly discovered pride.

Even after she stopped telling, it stuck with me for awhile. And I stuck around to see if she'd finish it.

Six years later, she's started it all over again. But this time in book form.

The first installment of this tale is titled Dark Secret Love. And like Alison herself, is unique and incredible. You'll have to attach yourself to something steady, because it's easy to fall into her world.

Today, our lovely Trollop answers a few questions, and poses a challenge for readers in the last one.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You’ve said that whatever you write always contains a sliver of yourself. With DSL, it’s more than a sliver. Did you discover anything new about yourself this time around that you didn’t back in 2006 when you first began telling your tale on your blog?

Here’s a tequila-induced confession. I was fucking terrified to revisit the story. I wrote this entirely organically, if that makes sense. Every day, I committed to about a thousand words. I let music inspire me as far as the tone. So if I heard a Pink Floyd song one day, I might write with that atmosphere in my mind the next. I had no real grasp of whether the piece would hold together in book form. What did I discover? That petrifying fear, which gradually let me loose the longer I worked on the project.

See, the thing is, there are 500,000 words to the tale. I’m at book eight of compiling, and it’s not finished.

Where’s the craziest place you’ve found inspiration for one of your stories?

I entertain myself by constantly writing stories in my head. Any place where you’re stuck for more than a few minutes, that’s when my over-active brain takes over. I’ve written stories set in the DMV. While waiting for a Tow Truck. While stuck in traffic. I like to say that I see sex wherever I go. It’s the truth. Give me a few people, an odd location, and ten minutes—and I’ll write you a story.

How hard was it to come to terms with your sexual “appetites” in a society that insisted they remain hidden? Do you feel it would be easier if you had to do it in today’s world?

There are so many more resources available for kinky people now. At least, resources you can easily put your hands on. The internet is a wealth of knowledge for fetishists and kinksters. In my formative years, as they say, I was pretty much alone. And lonely. That is, until I met Brock:

And it wasn't long before I realized that high school life and my world with Brock were parallel universes that didn't have anything else in common—running side by side on twin tracks. I felt as if I were in a dream as I walked through the Quad, watching the popular kids up on the wall, the jocks out by the basketball court, the stoners behind the gym. I faked everything from 8 - 3, not coming alive again until Brock picked me up on his Harley. Somehow, I was smart enough to do well in class simply by going through the motions. But I no longer had a desire to fit in.

            I think we are all hardwired for what we crave. When I’d gone on the few miserable dates with guys my age, I would invariably offer my wrists to them. To hold. To kiss. I didn’t even know why I was doing this. And the guys never figured out what I wanted. I can imagine their confusion now. What’s with this chick? But Brock did. He rarely held my hand. He gripped my wrist instead, letting me know what it would feel like to be bound to his bed, to be in his power. Letting me know ahead of time, before he made that fantasy come true.

DSL is a huge hit – and Hollywood comes knocking. Who do you see playing the parts?

Ha. I love you. I wish I could close my eyes and see the cast all lined up neatly. But I can't wrap my head around the casting! I want to say, an eloquent Tom Sizemore. Or Michael Madsen in this one scene of this one movie. Or David Straithairn circa L.A. Confidential. Or John Doe in Slam Dance. Even if his coloring is wrong, there's something so brutal and sexy about him. Especially, in that three-piece suit.

But you know what? I want to flip the question and ask readers instead. Who would you cast for the roles? 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I think she really wants to know guys. So answer in the comments, and at the end of the blog tour, Alison will choose her favourite answer and that lovely reader will receive a fun prize. Not sure what yet, but you can bet it'll be cool. (Also, if you check out that entry, you can enter to win a prize pack from Alison herself).  

If you don't have your copy yet, check out Dark Secret Love at Amazon UK, Amazon US or at your local book store. 


Called a “Trollop with a Laptop” by East Bay Express and “a hell of a writer” by Violet Blue, Alison Tyler is naughty and she knows it. Her sultry short stories have appeared in more than 100 anthologies. She is the author of more than 25 erotic novels, most recently Dark Secret Love, and the editor of more than 75 explicit anthologies. Visit alisontyler.blogspot.com 24/7 as she’s a total insomniac.

Test Drive

I often wonder why people think that night time, before bed, is the best time for sex. Is it because you’re in bed already? Is it because you’re already lying down? Is it because sex makes you sleepy?

I don’t know. I don’t have the answer for that.

I do know that I'm one who enjoys it every hour of the day - well, except mornings to be honest. I love my sleep. A bit more than sex (she said with a blush). So when Alison Tyler put out the call for Morning, Noon and Night, I thought that just after lunch was a perfect time to fuck. You know, you've eaten, you've digested, and just looking for that little nibble to get you through the afternoon. And it gave me the chance to bring out a couple of characters I’d had in developing stages for awhile – since I went out to buy my last car.

I'd stared at the cars in the showroom, in their bright, shiny hues of candy apple red, sunflower gold and snowflake white. I ran my fingers over their smooth surfaces and settled in to test out leather seats and compare them to the more comfortable, but less luxurious standard cloth upholstery. And as I fiddled with buttons, turned knobs and checked out all the fancies, my eyes constantly strayed to the back seat.

I wondered with small smiles. Did the staff take them out to “test” with each other? Or did they find a client that struck their fancy and offer to show them how the car of their choice handled on the road, with a full tour of all the “amenities”? Did the girl behind the reception desk, and the mechanic in the bay shoot longing looks at each other throughout the day, only to be the last ones out of the building at night? Did they close down the shop and fuck on the hoods of the luxury sedans?

I wondered if they had those successful days, where after all the clients had gone home, the ties got loosed and the case of beer, or bottle of scotch came out. And I knew, somewhere deep inside, that at least one of the cars I had driven, had been a mating ground for horny as hell salespeople.

It called to me – so I bought it.

And gave it my own test drive.

For the rest of the Morning, Noon and Night blog tour, check out the links below.

11/13 Alison Tyler
11/14 Sasha White
11/15 Vida Bailey
11/16 Cheyenne Blue
11/17 Donna George Storey
11/18 Aisling Weaver
11/19 Teresa Noelle Roberts
11/20 Cora Zane
11/21 Angell Brooks
11/22 Justine Elyot
11/23 Kristina Lloyd
11/24 Preston Avery
11/25 Ashley Lister
11/26 Victoria Janssen
11/27 Always Each Other
11/28 Tamsin Flowers hosts Jeremy Edwards
11/29 Tenille Brown
11/30 Kat Watson
12/1 Alison Tyler
12/2 Sommer Marsden