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?”
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?”
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.
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.)
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.*****
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.
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