Accountability

When I sort of accidentally began this journey, accountability was a big thing for me. I talked about it. Owned it. Showed it. Through daily full body Instagram photos, I am holding myself accountable to myself and to (I’d like to think) the world for my fitness and health, whether I do or don’t meet my goals for that day, week or whatever.

Just recently, I’ve begun adding food pics to the mix, which I had been doing from time to time before, but that’s when I was flaky about it all and could easily have had a salad for lunch and fried chicken and mashed potatoes for dinner. You’d see the pretty picture of the salad, but you wouldn’t see and I wouldn’t speak of the fried chicken.

I guess it’s like the proverbial tree in the forest. If I eat it and no one’s around to witness it, does that mean it didn’t happen? Well, I knew that couldn’t last because even if I didn’t post pictures of every meal, I repeat, I post full body shots of myself every single day, so you would know something went awry, somewhere. I wouldn’t be telling the truth. I wouldn’t be telling my truth. And there are many parts to my truth.

The truth is, if this were five days ago, I’d have either a vodka cranberry or a glass of wine in my hand. And if I’m going to tell the truth, five days ago, I DID have a vodka cranberry in my hand, and followed it up with several more. And let’s just throw a couple of shots of tequila in there for sport, because that happened, too.

Also, a hangover happened, and though I’ve posted a vicious hangover selfie on Instagram, I made sure I got myself together before I posted my daily shot, and I still went walking/jogging.

I haven’t had a drink since Sunday and that’s in part because I’ve been thinking a lot about this accountability thing and also because a friend challenged me to a strict seven day fitness thingy that doesn’t allow for alcohol.

It’s been easy. Unbelievably easy until today, when my day wasn’t so good, when my relationship isn’t glowing that perfect glow, when I’m so annoyed/pissed/mad/sad that I just want to numb myself with a vodka neat or a whole bottle of wine. And yes, I can take down a whole bottle…and a half.

So, far I’m resisting. Sipping iced water and channeling this negative energy into new words and promoting Can’t Get Enough. And I think I’m able to resist mostly out of stubbornness and a small part of me thinks it may be an around about attempt at sabotage because my husband of course lives with me, knows my habits, my weaknesses and unfortunately, my triggers.

It’s good to get that off my chest. I’ll let  you know how it turns out tomorrow. Honestly.

Boundaries

 

This is going to get personal, like, really personal. But that’s what we do here. Chat lightly, things get heavy, we promote a little.

I would categorize this one as a vent, except I’m not angry, and quite frankly, that worries me.

I may or may not have spoken here about boundaries. Specifically boundaries in a relationship. And sure, everyone has their own, whether expressed or unspoken.

Mine, however, have been blatantly expressed in the past, but now I find myself dealing with the same issue.

Specifically, I’m talking boundaries when it comes to being in contact with people other than your spouse/partner.

Where do you draw the line? At texting? At calling? At hanging out?

And to catch you up. The spouse is mine, the contact is via text (as far as I know) and he sort of told me as an afterthought.

The texter is a coworker. Remember those simultaneous dreams he and I had where I dreamed he was having an affair with a coworker and he dreamed I was having an affair with the neighbor? Weird, right? Well, the neighbor moved.

And his coworker, not someone he works closely with or even physically comes in contact with on a daily basis, texted him yesterday to “check on him.”

He’s on vacation. He’s not sick.

He’s simply not at work. And if he’s not at work, then guess what? He’s at home or somewhere with his wife, who would be doing the checking on if need be.

I didn’t say anything at first.

Because I try to be a cool, modern wife, you know. But the thing is, I wear my emotions on my sleeve, and at some point, I started to boil over.

He thinks it’s jealousy. I think it’s boundaries, plain and simple. If I’ve not met, formed any type of friendship with this woman, she does not get to have a part in our marriage that’s exclusive to only him, especially when I was here first.

But, maybe that’s just me.

In the end I gave my opinion and honestly, he seemed sort of sad, like I had taken away a favorite toy or something. He even told me to find a guy to text after I asked how he’d feel if he were in my shoes. WTF, right?

Now, mama didn’t raise no fool. I didn’t come out and say “stop this or else” because if he wanted to stop he would and if I told him to stop and he didn’t want to, guess what? He’d continue, only behind my back which would make it definitely look like something even if it’s nothing.

So what did I do? What any sane woman would do, of course. I friended her on Facebook. I’ve got the bitch on my radar and I’m watching the situation closely. That’s all I’m saying.

 

 

“All They Do Is Fuck”

A few days ago, I walked into the room to find my husband had started watching True Blood from Season 1. Neither of us had ever expressed interested in watching and really knew nothing about it.

I, however, know that I’m not into vampires in any kind of way, I don’t even know if “vampire” should be capitalized.

But, when I walked in, Sookey and Bill were, well, in the throes.

“That’s it,” my husband said, pointing at the screen, “that’s all they do.”

So, naturally, I was intrigued and started watching with him. It’s officially our thing now.

But, beyond all the wild, crazy, “dirty dick and all” sex, we like the damaged relationship between Tara and her mother. We love that Tara is such an emotional mess and keeps pushing Sam away.

And fake voodoo woman?

And naked man turned dog shape shifting?

Count me, I mean, us in!

At this point, we’re pretty attached to Lafyette, so don’t tell us if he dies. We almost needed resuscitation when we thought he was dead at the end of Season 1.

So, we’re enjoying it, and Hubs has sternly looked at the dog and said, “I better not ever catch your ass naked at the end of my bed!”
 

Date Night Done Right

There are no blog stops scheduled today or tomorrow, so this weekend you’re link and plug free! Yay!

I know how annoying constant promotion can be when every tweet, every blog is a link oto see my book, like my book, buy my book. And while I realize these things are important to a book’s success, I also know you got it the first, second or third time around.

Promoting your work can be tricky. It’s a constant test of balance between pushing your work and maintaining that light , casual relationship on social media.

So instead, let me tell you how date night became this:

And this:

First of all, I didn’t think a date night was necessary. Hubs actually took his days off this week and his sister and her fiance visited. We had a really good time , but he felt he owed me some quality time. There wasn’t a movie at the theatre that we hadn’t seen and we really didn’t feel like going out in the rain to have dinner.

So, we decided we’d grab a DVD and stay in and cuddle for the evening. However, both our bodies decided otherwise. We lay across the bed and watched Rookie Blue, some Mike and Molly and soon my husband, myself and the dog fell asleep spoon style at the foot of the bed.

It was both cute and pathetic. And dinner? That was a plate of fried green tomatoes.

Fancy, huh?

I know. It’s what I do.

Change and stuff.

We’ve been in our new home in our new state now for five + months. My lips want to form the words “I couldn’t be happier” because that’s mostly my answer when people from back home ask how I’m doing, how I like it, how we’re all transitioning. And honestly, I am happy, very. We live in a nice, quiet neighborhood, the twins attend a wonderful school where they are thriving, and the hubby has seen immense change from his old facility to the one he’s at now.

And I have gone from being a mom, wife and writer who also worked full time to only being responsible for shuttling the kids school and activities and well, taking care of home and stuff, and of course, writing. It was the dream. It was what I always wanted and never thought I could have and now that I have it, I guess it just feels unbelievable.

For one, there’s the self-inflicted guilt that not only am I not generating any income, I’m also not taking full advantage of the many hours I have to myself. I’m doing better about it now. I’m actually writing a novel. I know, I’m always writing a novel, but this is the most dedicated I have ever been to it and I have an actual outline that I’m following. I’ve never done that before, now have I?

Also, the release date for Can’t Get Enough will be here before I know it (July 14, 2014, if you didn’t know) and I’ve got to step up my promotion game. Transitioning from just writing to writing and also editing, that extra responsibility is pretty new to me, but it is very necessary if I want this book to be a success and if I want publishers to want me to edit for them again.

I will be blogging more frequently (famous last words, eh?), here and also over at Can’t Get Enough’s blog. There are some short story calls that I’ve started stories for and I want/need to finish. I just want to be a more dedicated writer, a better me, and that itself will take more change than the big move ever did.

It’s time…

…that I said something, did something, finally after what… a month or so…let my own words appear on my own blog. I’ll admit, I’ve gotten a little comfy in my new life. My only responsibilities being to wake up, get the husband and kids off to work and school, cook meals, and keep the house in some sort of order. And, now that we’ve been in our new place for nearly three months, daily maintenance takes maybe an hour.

No reason I should be napping, or watching every show known to man on demand. No reason I should have stacked all my notebooks in the closet where they wouldn’t be sitting there mocking me, reminding me that I haven’t completed a story, a blog, an essay, nothing since I’ve been here.

I feel pretty bad about that. Which reminds me, I also feel bad. I’m in the midst of a Lyme flare up and just for shits and giggles, depression decided to pull up a chair as well.

These shouldn’t be excuses. And when I think about the fact that I could have written a whole novel during the time I’ve been sitting here napping, watching t.v. and drinking beer, I want to well…crawl under the covers, watch t.v. and have a beer.

But enough of that.

I’m at the writing table right now, typing these words. I’m reminding myself that I have a book coming out next July, an actual book with my name on the cover which is hold in my hands proof that writing is what I do, or at least have been doing, and damn it, I need to get back at it.

So…here goes.

The Girl Crush I Never Knew I Had – Guest blog by Sommer Marsden

I admit I have a thing–a big, huge thing–for men with dark hair and light eyes. I once had a friend write to me and say, “Do you ever write blond boys with brown eyes?”

Hmph.

So, I wrote a blond boy with brown eyes. And a brown haired boy with brown eyes. But I almost always return to the dark haired boys with light eyes.

When it came to writing the female love interest in Restricted Release, for there are two, a man and a woman, I wasn’t sure which direction I’d go.

We recently had a conversation at the dinner table (God, I love my dinner table) where my daughter announced her friends discussing ‘who would you go gay for?’ Which girl would make you want a girl, basically. Assuming you’re hetero, that is.

I laughed, “Julianne Moore.” There. That was easy. I’ve had a big old girl crush on her for ages. There’s something so ethereally beautiful about her. And yet she’s also so down to earth pretty.

Once upon a time my answer would have been Angelina Jolie. But tastes change and I think most women would’ve gone gay for her at one point. Heh. Let’s not forget my longstanding girl crush, Jamie Lee Curtis. It still rages on today. I even wrote a story called The Scream Queen for her that appeared in Rachel Kramer Bussel’s The Mile High Club.

But I digress! (with the topic of all these beautiful women). My daughter’s answer, in case you’re interested, was “Jennifer Lawrence. She’s so pretty but she has the best personality EVER.”

I loved that answer.

So back to my book, since that’s why I’m here, right? Boy do I go off on tangents sometimes. The point is, I wasn’t sure what direction I’d go with Nadia. I assumed it would be a Julianne knock-off. Or even a Jamie. But nope. Imagine my surprise when Nadia showed up…

“Clara?” She stuck out her hand.
“Nadia?” I shook her hand shyly.
She nodded. She was shorter than I by almost six inches. She was thin but not skinny, plump in places but not fat. Her skin was the color of the sweet hard caramels my grandfather had always kept in his pocket, but the cold February wind had put roses in her cheeks. Her hair was as black as a crow’s feather and cut short so it fell in spiky brazen bits around her round face. She wore faded jeans with a hole in the knee, boots with faux-fur lining and a peacoat that was way too big for her but flattered her small frame nonetheless.
“Can I come in?” she asked, teeth chattering.
I gasped, feeling downright rude, and stepped back. “Of course. My gosh, I’m so sorry. Where are my manners? I just…I’m sort of…”
She stepped in and shook off the few snowflakes that had settled in her thick hair. “Freaked out?”
“Yes.”
She shucked the peacoat and hung it on a wall hook while I remained stupid and mute. Under the coat she wore a long concert t-shirt for Counting Crows and a gold belt that cinched it close to her small waist. She was punky and perfect—an instant girl crush.
“Would you…would you…” I was trying to ask her if she wanted coffee or tea or anything to warm her up but I was too busy staring. My gaze locked on her liquid-ink eyes and her plump pink lips. They were free of lip-gloss or lipstick or anything at all and yet as pink as my mother’s tea roses.
“Would I…?”
I blinked, found her gaze, but my eyes returned quickly to that mouth. And the things that Matt had told me it might do to me. With me. On me.
“Would you…” I whispered, losing my thought yet again.
“Well, balls,” she said with a small laugh. Then she pushed me hard against the foyer wall and kissed me.

Isn’t she stunning? I thought so. God, I love my job. I learn something new about myself every day. Including girl crushes I never knew I had. And what sploshing is. But that’s a post for another day. (there go my tangents again.)

XOXO
Sommer

Excerpt from RESTRICTED RELEASE
By Sommer Marsden

“Hi,” I blurted.
He grinned at me and warmth curled in my belly. A wild untamed fear of what I was about to do flooded my veins.
“Hi there.” Matt grabbed my wrist very gently and pulled me in the house. He knew. We both knew.
“I came to…I wanted to…” I sighed.
He leaned against a huge stack of moving boxes, most just labeled by room. Living Room, Kitchen, Den and some were marked JUNK. When I said nothing he said, “Wanted?”
“You,” I blurted. “I wanted you. I saw…” I swallowed hard. “God, I really suck ass at this, you know?” I growled.
That earned me a laugh and I finally noticed his hand was still wrapped around my wrist. My pulse jumped madly beneath his fingers.
“I saw you naked,” I whispered as if he were the only man to ever be naked in the history of the world.
He chuckled again. In my mind his laughter was made of smoke and cashmere. It was soft and slightly sinister but soothing as well. It was a fucking enigma is what it was.
Matt put his hand to his chest in mock shock. “Oh no…not…naked.”
I nodded. “Yes, naked. And I wanted to…I wanted you,” I said, despite the fact that my face felt like it had caught fire. “And I figured if I was bold enough to admit it at my house earlier I should be able to just put on my big-girl panties and say it to you. Even thought it is utterly insane. Like lock-me-up crazy.”
I took a deep breath as if I’d just surfaced from swimming.
“So that’s what you have on then?”
I blinked slowly, trying to figure out what he meant. The fingers of his free hand curled in the waistband of my gray leggings and he pulled me toward him. I took the staggering step and realized I’d been forgetting to breathe.
“What?” I finally gave up and asked.
“That’s what you have on? Your big-girl panties?” He pulled my waistband out and peered into my panties.
My heart shot up into my throat and then started beating in my temples. I couldn’t remember what panties I had on. Shit, I couldn’t remember if I had panties on.
“No,” I sighed.
He pushed fingers into my knickers and simply cupped my pussy. His hand was insanely warm and his middle finger curled snug to the split of me, pressing very gently against my clitoris.
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.*****

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

On The Move

Life for me is just slowing down as we’re settling into a new home in a different state. At an unexpectedly rapid place, my family relocated from small town Carolina to the Atlanta area of Georgia.

It’s involved a lot of change, mostly for the kids who live with ASD and are major creatures of habit, but also my husband who has come to a new job location and myself who, for now, is not working outside the home.

It’s always been a dream of mine, to be at home where I’m accessible to my family. Juggling household chores while working feverishly on stories, articles and books. Need I even say that it’s not quite that simple and now and then I long or the simplicity of a desk and a computer and a clock to punch?

But, I have hope, and hopefully, time to figure all of that out. For now I’m sitting here in the moment, doing the laundry and listening to the rain, planning dinner and anxious to hear about the kids’ day at school, feeling very much…at home.

Why?

I seldom feel the need to explain myself, and I never intended to start now. But since the news of my family’s move to Atlanta has been met with the general inquisition of “why,” I’ve been feeling the need to explain myself, to tick off reasons why we’ve decided to leave this grand old place, and basically, sell the idea of Atlanta to people who are not only not coming with us, but probably won’t even visit.

Our “why” basically is this, though.

We live in a rural area, and though my husband works for the federal government, his particular placement has little room for advancement right now. Atlanta has that. We do have family here, because we were born and raised here. However, that has been a blessing and a curse. Family is there for help and support, but only when they can and want to, and family tends to overstep their bounds. Hell, I’ll say it, my mother especially.

When you have the comfort and convenience of family, it’s hard to motivate yourself to go it on your own. For instance, I almost never have issues with babysitting. On the other hand, my mother often treats me like a teen mom and coaches me (without solicitation) through whatever thing I’m dealing with concerning the children.

We have special needs children, I’ve said that before. The school district has been accommodating, but all the while letting us know that they only have so many resources available and there is only so much they can do. We are relocating to a place where there will be many more resources for the children.

And also, despite their challenges, my children are gifted, but there are no resources here to help nurture their talents besides basic school activities. If my daughter wants to dance, she has to do it in her bedroom.

Finally, we will be in a place where, at last, I can give the proper time and attention to my own career. And not law enforcement. I’ll get to really give freelancing a shot, and I’ll be in a prime place to promote my book next year.

So, there you have it. Those are just a couple of reasons why other than, damn it, it’s our party and we’ll move if we want to.

“Welcome to Atlanta where the players play…”

This is the text I got from my husband this morning, once he got to work and found out that he had been picked up as a transfer with his job to their Atlanta facility.

We decided on a whim almost a month ago to put in for it because the situation here has been at such a stand still, and really, I’ve been complaining about this place (my hometown) for oh…since I moved back here in 2006. We also tried for Houston and Butner, and I would have been fine with either, but being honest, my heart was already in Georgia.

And, truth be told, and as my history speaks for itself, I believe in fresh starts.

On one hand it’s scary. With two special needs children, transitions and the what ifs surrounding them can be paralyzing, but on the other hand we’ll be in a place where there are many more opportunities and hopefully school districts that can better suit their needs.

I will, at least for a bit, be able to be at home writing and be there and available for my family. The chances for promotion for my husband will greatly increase. And I will still have family in the area, including two beloved older aunts who I don’t see or talk to nearly enough. And there are a couple of friends who relocated there several years ago who I get to catch up with, too and writer friends I’ve met through social media who I might actually get to hang out with in real life!

But enough with the jibber jabber. I have a house to sell and another to locate and buy!