Minefields....

It's what I feel I'm trapped in these days. Just when I think I've got everything under control ....BOOM! I make a wrong step and everything's back in disarray.

I know that I'm often writing these posts about how disorganized my life is. But it's so true. I guess I keep thinking that if I write about it enough, magically I'll gain the super powers to become super organized. Fat chance of that, but hey! Worth a shot.

So, at this time, work is out of control on both job fronts. At one, I feel like I'm babysitting a bunch of infants, and at the other, it feels like the walls are falling down on top of us, and no matter how hard we try to keep them up, it's no use.

My writing space, which I was so proud of when I got it finished, has become the "pile of clothing" space. And it seems like that pile is never ending, no matter how many times I go through it and put things in their proper place. So it's a little tough to concentrate when a simple glance around the room shows too much left still to do.

I'm attempting (still) a lifestyle change, which means learning how to cook good food, not just getting take out. Plus gym time, not just with the trainer. Finding the energy to get off the highway after work and turn right (to go to the gym) as opposed to turning left (to go home) is exhausting on it's own.

School is another thing altogether. I'm almost finished my certificate program. Just two classes left (I think - I do have to double check that). But the one I'm in now is just - meh. My instructors are great and the other students are nice and we have fun. But I need a great grade to keep up my GPA, and I'm not sure I'm going to get it. O_O

And then there's my writing list to do:
 - I owe Alison Tyler about fifteen reviews (for what I can't remember which is really driving me bat shit)
 - I owe Sommer Marsden about the same amount (GAH!)
 - I have deadlines for calls that I want to sub for, but those keep creeping up on me and then passing me by altogether
 - my own project that I wanted to get off the ground is still lying there, flat, after being run-over by the out of control bus that is my life
 - I'm sure there's a few other authors I owe reviews to. I know my Kindle and iBook apps are full of stuff still to be read - and that's NOT including A Game of Thrones, which, thanks to my brother, I am now addicted to.

AND, the lastest, biggest thing EVER...my New York City trip in June. Best friend of 33 years and I have been planning this for the last eight months. We're going for our 40th bdays - hers is in June, mine's in July. We planned it for June (her birthday) because that's when the Tony Awards are going to be (and Hugh's hosting again - NOM NOM NOM). And to go to the Tony's would be, well, a dream come true. Both of us had dreams of being on Broadway when we were younger. So I've been planning, and looking at hotels, and stressing over what if we DON'T get the tickets. Because there are very few being sold to the public. They go on sale April 30, and if we don't get them, I'll be so disappointed. We've already booked our flights. I'm spending a whole week down there, she could only get four days- but one of them is her birthday! We've got tickets to see the incredible Idina Menzel and Anthony Rapp in a hot new musical called If/Then.

BUT.....

after we booked the flights, Travel Broadway Across America sends out an email that has a whole Tony weekend package, INCLUDING Tony Award tickets. And wouldn't you know it - we've already booked our flights and I can't get an answer from the BAA people as to whether or not we could possibly make adjustments to the package. Even if we wanted the package, it's only for three nights and I plan on spending the whole week in the Big Apple.

Can you understand why I feel stressed?

ANYWAY, if you've read this far, thank you. I appreciate it. And while you're here, I'm going to direct you to Sommer Marsden's Ninth Writer-versary! A whole month with guest bloggers and prizes to be won! You must comment on the day's blog to win that prize, but every comment puts your name in the fishbowl for a grand prize! And her guests are so crazy and fun, it's been an amazing party. I can guarantee you'll not only find some amazing new authors for your bookshelf, but you'll be immediately adding some of the featured books to your TBR (to be read for those who are new) list. Follow the link to Day one and go from there!

And here we go again....

It's that time of year again. Alison Tyler's Smut Marathon, the 2014 edition. As Alison herself describes it "For those just joining in, "The Smut Marathon" is a contest I invented about five years ago. A group of writers all (amazingly) agree to fulfill one (bizarre) challenge (I come up with) every month. I post their work here and readers vote for the favorites. There are winners for each round and one writer (or several writers, depending on ties) leaves after each voting period ends."

I must be a sucker for punishment to keep participating. The competition gets more and more intense as the Marathon gets older and writers get wise to how much fun it is to take part.

So - sigh - here I am again for another round of getting my arse kicked. Come on over and meet this years line up. Some familiar faces, some new to the game.

But all immensely talented.

You'll see what I mean when you stop by Alison's for Round One. Every great book I've ever read has started with an incredible first line. There are fifteen (yes, you read that right fifteen) amazing ones to choose from.

But be careful! You can only vote for one. Heartbreaking I know, but it's the way it goes.

But share and compare with your friends. Do it in pairs, hell, do it in groups. Just vote and show these writers that you appreciate the fine art of the first line.

Poll closes Thursday so be sure to visit on Friday to see if your fave made the cut.

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.

Happy New Year! It's THE year.

Ok, so we're nine days into the new year, but it's my first chance to sit and talk to y'all.

So let's talk resolutions. We've all made 'em. And once January is over, we all tend to break them.

Whether it's to lose weight, eat healthier, take better care of ourselves. Whether it's to do more on our bucket lists or to do more towards our futures. Come February first, we're all back into the deep fried snacks, neglecting the gym, spending more time in front of our computers, televisions, mobile devices.

That new guitar that we learned three chords on is sitting gathering dust in the corner. The date book filled with coffee dates and plays that we wanted to see is suddenly blank.

I go through this year after year.

I'm going to eat better. 
I'm going to go to the gym four days a week.
I'm going to keep the house clean.

I'm going to, I'm going to, I'm going to.

It always breaks down to - I WAS.

This year, I've decided to not make specific resolutions. I've made only one.

For 2014, I'm going to be the best me I can be in that moment. I'm not going to put pressure on myself to be something right away that I obviously can't.

I'm going to do my BEST to make the right choice. It won't always work out that way. I'm going to fuck up.

That story I started for that deadline will probably sit half finished until the day before I have to send it for submission.

The laundry basket will pile up.

The television will be on when I should be studying.

And I will be daydreaming when I should be working.

BUT, not every day will be like that. There are days when the laundry will get done, folded and put away. And there will be that one, maybe two, stories that will be submitted a week or two before deadline.

There will be those days where I finally clear my desk. And there will be weeks that I do make it to the gym four days out of seven. And those will be very good days.

I'm not going to beat myself up anymore or stress over shit that's really not important in the grand scheme of things. I won't hate myself if I overdo it on my calorie count. I won't glare at myself in the mirror if I drive by the gym and go home instead.

And above all, I'm not going to let assholes and bitches take away my good moods anymore. I will no longer be a doormat, but I'm not going to let hate poison my life.

I am going to accept that I am who I am, and I'll change if I want to - not to make someone else happy.

And if you can't accept me the way I am - with my heart of gold on my sleeve who's a little selfish at times but who really does want to be a good person - then get the hell out of my life.

There's no room for negativity this year.

This year, I turn 40. And I couldn't be happier about it. I've got big plans for this year.

But I'm ok if they all don't happen.

But that's an entry for another day.

May 2014 bring you all health, and happiness.

FINALLY! I is WRITING....

Happy December 23rd y'all!

Life has finally slowed down (a bit). But of course now that I've said that, it'll start to get utterly fuck-tic hectic. Where's that wooden block I have....?

But I have started to write again.

Writers often say that it's not about writing when you're inspired to, it's about writing when you're not. And it's so true. Like anything, you have to practice, and keep at it, and push, even when you think you have nothing to write about.

That's how you become great at it.

But, inspiration did hit me the other night. I started working on this piece, and while I know it's going to be a short one, I'm not quite sure where it's going right now.

But I ADORE the beginning lines. And I'm posting here, for your opinions.

Because I love you.



Tonight, I wanted you.

Shamefully, embarrassingly, desperately wanted you. I know I shouldn't, for so very many reasons. But then again, I've never been one to pay attention to rules, let alone play by them.

I wanted your attention. I was a whore for it. I dressed the part - short, flirty skirt with knee high fuck-me boots. Holey sweater with tight glittered tank beneath. Red - festive.

Glittery eyes - black and red. The night's theme.

Laughter throughout the night. Side glances down the table. Comments and innuendos, playful, flirty, fraught with meaning, hints.

Dares.

Whipped cream on my coffee, lifted by a scarlet tipped finger, sucked into glossy lips and a promising smile.

Did you notice? Were you aware of me as I was of you, when I grabbed your arm and leaned in a little closer than normal? Could you smell my arousal, my thighs slick under my skirt? My black and red thong was no help against the rush of lust that coated my skin. Simply because you were near.


 Well? Whatcha think?

Christmas is here!

I love Christmas. I always have. The second December 1 shows on the calendar, all I listen to is Christmas carols. It's the same ones over and over, different versions by different artists, but I love them all just the same.

Over at Sommer's place, she's sharing Christmas memories. So I thought, why not share one of my own?


When I was a child, my grandparents had a huge house. Five bedrooms, four levels. The tree was HUGE, with so many decorations you'd get buried under them. It stood right next to the fireplace, where we'd have a roaring one going as we tossed ornaments, fake apples and tinsel at each other. We'd roast chestnuts - the old fashioned way - and have hot chocolate. And we'd laugh. So much laughter, our bellies would ache. When we got tired, we'd curl up with my grandmother, and watch as the grownups finished trimming the tree.

Then every Christmas Eve, we would have dinner - all 35 or 40 of the family and various stray friends with nowhere to go - and then we'd tear down dinner and gather in the living room. My mom would play the piano, we'd pass out song books, and sing carols for hours on end. (*Just a note on those song books - every year mom & I would go through them, replacing ripped pages, and putting new songs in. It was a PAIN*) We'd have a couple of breaks in the action, where we'd raid the treat table, refresh drinks, and then sit back down, calling out carols and page numbers. Our measuring stick was the 12 Days of Christmas. If we could get through all 12 days, the adults clearly needed more alcohol. To this day, that's one tradition that's remained the same.

When it was time for us to go to bed, my brother and I would trudge upstairs - under protest - and get into our jammies. After mom tucked us in, she'd go back downstairs to the festivities, and we'd sneak out into the hallway, sitting on either side of the large doorway, and listen to the fun, and wish we were old enough to stay up.

In the morning, we'd be up early as we could be. Under the same roof would be us, my parents, my two aunts, my two uncles and my grandparents. And we'd have so much fun waking them all up. We didn't realize until we got to be adults that they were up until two or three in the morning, not just tidying up after the caroling, but putting together my dollhouse or my brother's train set. We had no mercy.

As the adults pulled themselves - under protest - out of bed, my brother and I would run downstairs, hopping up and down eagerly to see what was under the tree. My father would come down and start the fire, my grandfather would pour out the traditional Christmas morning shot of liqueur, and my mom would take her place next to the tree to start handing out gifts.

If I close my eyes, I can still see it all - the twinkling lights on the tree, the red-orange flames, the horrible shag rug, the green furniture...and I can feel it.

The love. The warmth.

Family.

I loved how I was the only one I knew who had her whole family under the same roof for Christmas. When my grandparents sold the house, and we no longer had that tradition, well, I was bitter. But nothing lasts forever right?

It's going on ten years since we lost my aunt Gail to pancreatic cancer. My father has been gone for three, and my grandfather two. The family scatters now. We're all getting older, there's not as many children to keep up traditions for.

But come Christmas Eve, we'll still be trying to get through the 12 days of Christmas.

Just add alcohol.

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