Kiss Me

I’m delighted to be a part of Smutters’ Blisse Kiss Chase Valentine’s Day promotion. If you haven’t heard/seen the details, various authors will be posting Kiss Blog’s including kissing excerpts. Included in these posts will be our personalized Smoocher with a number and a clue and oh, mine’s below!

And since we’re on the subject of kissing… Call me a hopeless romantic, but the kiss is always my favorite part, in writing and in life. I’ve written the most erotic of stories that were based on, inspired by and built around a kiss. One of my first published stories, Dressing Desire, includes two female characters, one engaged, the other her seamstress, whose desire for each other climaxed (tee hee) in their kiss. The excerpt (drumroll, please):

“Would it be terrible if I kissed you?” She asked.
“You’re getting married, Ivy. Today is your wedding day.”
She placed a slender finger against my lips. “All that aside. Would it be terrible if I kissed you?”
Still silenced by her finger, I shook my head, unable to find my voice even if I was free to speak.
Her lips dropped onto mine. I closed my eyes as she parted my lips with her fingers and tongue. Her tongue tasted and moved like molasses, exploring my own tongue, my teeth, the roof and sides of my mouth.
I reached up and gently pulled at the soft, dark ringlets that escaped her veil and rested on her cheeks. My own hair touched her neck and draped over her shoulders. Our tangled hair lay upon us, a dark mane like blanket over our shoulders.
The dress surrounded us, a white satin pool around our knees. Her fingers searched my throat, massaged my shoulders, trailed my back as she gently sucked my tongue and rubbed her breasts against mine.
I held her waist, pressed gently at her sides with my thumbs. My fingers pulled at the band of her panties, her heat searing my fingers.
She reached for my hand and held it in her own guiding me away from her panties. She pressed two final ruby kisses onto my lips.
“I shouldn’t keep the driver waiting.”
I found my voice again. “Yes, the driver.”
I pulled the gown up, buttoned each button and straightened the bodice. “There. You’re all set.”

I hope you enjoyed it and please check into The Bliss Kiss Chase Blog for details on where to find your next clue!


Slippery When Wet – Guest Blog by Author Sommer Marsden

I have an addiction. To shower sex. Not me, really. I am a bit of a klutz so shower sex in real life might be pretty dangerous for yours truly. That’s not to say *cough* it’s never happened. It’s just given the state of our shower at home (the damn thing is crooked, I’m not kidding. You slide downhill if you’re not careful.) shower sex might be better left on paper.

But I do love to write my characters into some good slippery wet times. Especially my boys. There must be something about a slick, wet man that does it for me. Add another slick wet man to that scenario and I’m in heaven. Shower sex heaven.

Does this mean that there might be some shower sex in my new book Lion Hearted? Some moist hook ups in various no tell motel bathrooms? Um…hello. Were you paying attention? Of course!

I hope you’ll join my boys for their road trip to Divination Falls. I promise you that no matter how dirty they get, I’ll make sure to stick them in the shower to clean them up. Or ya know, something like that.

So how about you? Is shower sex better left on paper? Or are you game for something wet and wild? Leave me a comment for a chance to win an All Romance Ebooks $10 gift certificate. I’ll go through all the comments along the Lion Hearted blog tour and draw a winner when all is said and done!

Good luck.




Tryg Avondale is the muscle for his pride, and when he’s called upon to hunt down two missing teens, he sees the job for what it is – a chance to give his pride a break from him and his “nature”. Tryg is a gay lion and it’s not something his “family” seems to embrace.

He takes with him Luke Dorchester – an empath and the perfect travel companion. Luke can feel and soothe every emotion that coils deep inside Tryg, and the sex between them is the hottest Tryg has ever known. Tryg has no intention of letting his emotions go any further when it comes to this brand new man. But he also has zero intention of letting him go. What follows is a road trip from campground to campground, hot nights in hotel rooms and close encounters spent together as they follow the scent of the two abducted shifters. A scent that takes them to Divination Falls, a haven for shifters and associated magical folk; a place where an old evil will surface and Tryg will learn just how far his love for lion-hearted Luke must take him.

Amazon US buy link:

Amazon UK buy link:

Coming to all other vendors January 2013!

Lion Hearted

By Sommer Marsden

EXCERPT copyright 2012

It was a 30-minute trip and Tryg could feel Luke studying him. He sipped coffee out of the travel mug, wished he’d eaten breakfast, caught diner scents on the wind, and promised himself they’d eat breakfast before leaving for real. Finally, he couldn’t pretend not to notice any more.

‘What is it?’

Luke reached out to touch his cheek. He’d shaved before leaving the house, but he heard the rough stubble move restlessly under Luke’s touch.

‘I thought you’d have more hair.’

Tryg snorted. ‘Did you now? Why is that?’

‘You’re a lion.’

‘So you expected wild, waving puffs of hair? A mane, perhaps?’ He grinned so hard it hurt his face. It made him nervous, feeling happy.

‘Perhaps,’ Luke said. He turned away, and Tryg caught the scent of heightened blood. Luke was blushing, he was embarrassed.

Now he felt like a shit. Tryg caught his hand up and squeezed. ‘Hey, no big deal. You don’t know what you’re dealing with until you’re dealing with it, right? You probably hear a lot of rumours about my kind.’

‘Yeah, some.’ Luke’s fingers twisted around Tryg’s and he squeezed.

‘Like we live in animal form almost all the time.’



‘False. Usually, we only shift when we need to or really want to for some reason. We are very much men and women who happen to have the ability to shift to animal form.’

‘What animal is the most prevalent?’

Tryg felt Luke relax. His body went loose, his breathing evened out. He felt better; the kid wasn’t tense any more. He turned the Thunderbird with his left hand as he continued to squeeze Luke’s hand with the right. ‘No single animal wins that race. There are lions and tigers and bears …’ He smiled.

‘Oh my!’ Luke whispered.

‘Exactly. There are wolves, of course. There are bird shifters and reptile shifters and –’

‘I heard some shifters can just shift – into anything,’ Luke said.

‘True. Their DNA is more fluid, more forgiving than most of ours. Most of us have a single animal we can transform into. That animal is part of our DNA. It’s like looking like your mom but having your dad’s double joints. We’re human but we can shift into a lion. So – the ones who can just shift, they’re considered rare and special. Their DNA kind of takes orders, if you will.’

‘Like “hey, body, today I’ll be an alligator”?’ Luke chuckled.

‘Right.’ Tryg turned on to the lake road. ‘But me, I’m just a man. I tend to like my meat a bit more raw, I don’t really like wearing clothes if it’s not a must.’ He winked. Parking by the lake, he put the car in park and cut the engine. ‘I like to fuck my guy from behind more often than not.’

He smelled the blood in Luke’s cheek again. He was blushing once more. But this time it was a good blush, and it made Tryg laugh even as he climbed out of the car to try and catch the scent of the missing girl. For this he’d have to shift.

‘You gonna turn away?’ he asked, unbuttoning his jeans.

‘Do you want me to?’ Luke asked.

Tryg realised the offer was sincere and snorted. What planet had this guy come from? Most non-shifters he fucked were all about seeing it happen. It was a time to gawk and observe. So they could report back to their friends later about what it was like. A freak show.

‘I – hadn’t thought about it,’ Tryg said. It was a lie.

Luke reached in the back seat and shoved his hand into his duffle. When he pulled out a bandanna, Tryg blinked. ‘Here. You can blindfold me if you like. I don’t think you’re a freak. I don’t want to stare at you and see the sideshow. I just want to be here with you.’

Tryg swallowed hard. Something akin to anger washed over him. A knee-jerk reaction that this kid had him pegged so well. ‘It’s fine,’ he growled.

Luke didn’t touch him, but his voice went lower. ‘I mean it, Tryg. I can feel that frustrated rage and hurt inside you. I’d eat this bandanna before I’d make you feel that way because of something I did.’

Tryg turned away from the open car door. His eyes stung and his throat was tight. Goddamn it. This was not a good time to feel all Dr Phil. ‘It’s fine. Do what you want,’ he said. He tried to keep his voice neutral. He failed.

Then he dropped his jeans, shucked his shirt, and let himself shift the same way some people let themselves take a deep breath when they were about to undertake something difficult. The world muffled and he was all intention and purpose. His nose picked up a mélange of scents. He had to find the scent of his own kind and then follow it.

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 Boys Next Door, Restless Spirit, Big Bad, Wanderlust and Learning to Drown. Sommer currently writes erotica and erotic romance for HarperCollins (Mischief Books), Xcite Books, eXcessica, Ellora’s Cave, Pretty Things Press, and Resplendence Publishing. 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 to see what’s up and drop her a line.

Old Dog, New Blog

At the end of this week, I’ll be thirty-five.

I’ve been blogging since 2003, around the same time I was first published as an author of erotic fiction.  There you are; you do the math.  My original blog is/was here, but due to formatting issues/frustrations, and the fact that I’m just too damn old, tired and fed up to deal with it, I’ve decided to change things up a bit.  So, here I am!

On "Killing Your Little Darlings"

For the life of me I can’t recall whether it was in Stephen King’s On Writing or Anne Lammott’s Bird by Bird (both equally fine books on writing, by the way) where I read the phrase, “kill your little darlings.” It referred to editing your work, and getting rid of unnecessary words, more specifically, those lovelies, the ones you hold near and dear to your heart.I received a set of line edits last night and it got me to thinking about the first ones I ever received as a professional writer. I nearly fainted when I saw page after page of almost complete red. This editor was asking me to eliminate nearly every beautiful word I had written. What would be left afterward if I did this? Like the amateur that I was, I debated and went back and forth with her about what should and shouldn’t stay in and why my little darlings were absolutely pertinent to the story. Lucky for me, the editor was patient enough to take the time to explain why she did what she had done, and I was open enough to follow her advise and edit my story properly. So, I picked myself up off the floor and killed my little darlings, and the result was a tight and finely crafted story.Editing my work got easier over time, and now, I don’t even think about it. As a matter of fact, it’s rare that I even get line edits back after I’ve had work accepted because I tend to kill my own little darlings off the top, but when I do, I just do it because, well, darlings or not, they were slowing the story down.Back to the slaughter house…

I’m Here

My last post didn’t format correctly because I originally typed it in a Word document and pasted it here and was too lazy to keep trying to correct it. So, oh well. I’ve also been too tied up with life troubles which included a suck ass unexpected diagnosis of Lyme Disease that had me down for a month to update with any real regularity. There were days I couldn’t even account for. I couldn’t move, could barely see and would scream from the pain in my back, neck, limbs and head. This went on for two weeks and after numerous hospital visits before I was properly diagnosed by my family physician. Lyme disease. It was shocking to say the lease because the area in which I live, though wooded and rural, is one of the rarest for the desease. However, my symptoms screamed it, and my test results were “grossly positive.” He treated me with an agressive round of antibiotics for a month and eventually the pains subsided, my vision straightened up and I returned to work. However, I take several meds for lingering joint pains and to prevent the return of other symptoms and I suffer with pain in my hands and feet on a daily basis. Sigh. This is exactly what I was trying to avoid by not blogging. This complaining shit. But now that we have that out of the way. I’ve been more productive in my writing life than ever before. I’ve recently received my contributor’s copies to Curvy Girls, Going Down and Sapphic Planet and I’m expecting Suite Encounters any day now. I recently got word that my story Lessons for Leona made the final cut for Best Lesbian Erotica 2013 and in August of this year, Chocolate Flava 3 will be released which contains my story, Choices. I’m also writing for the new Mischief line base in the UK which recently released the e-anthology, Across My Knee, containing my story, Music Morris Made and I’ve had my story, Having His Cake accepted for their Too Fast For Love: Opportunistic Encounters anthology as well. I’m beyond excited. I’m writing pretty much on a daily basis now, which is a far cry from what I was doing before (remember that year I didn’t write a damn thing?!). So, for those who have been lurking and popping and wondering about me, yes I’m here and yes, I’m still writing, writing away.

“Hey Man, Can I Borrow Your Car?”

in.teg.ri.ty[in-teg-ri-tee] noun 1. adherence to moral and ethical priniciples, soundness of moral character; honesty. For today, we will pretend that I haven’t gona all year without blogging. You’ll forgive the long-winded post I never did write summarizing months of unexpected and sudden onset illness and you’ll give me just a minute more to properly catch you up on all happenings writing-related. No, today, I want to talk about integrity. I used the word early this morning while ironing my work uniform. In fact, the sentence I used was, “…but, it speaks on your integrity as well…” Ever heard the phrase “guilty by association?” Or, how about “birds of a feather flock together?” I know they’re cleche and I know it’s basically stereoyping but when you’re in a relationship, an adulty relationship, doesn’t what your friends do while they’re with you, around you, or do involvin you, reflect on you and your own relationship? I’m sure many (men) would say no. In fact I was told by one in particulat that I didn’t need to trust “them,” that I needed to trust “him.” But he, by whatever passive participative part he had in the situation, condoned what was going on. No, it wasn’t him acting, no he might not have cheered the person on or verbally said, “What you’re doing is cool with me.” But by not standing up and at least saying, “I’m not judging, but I don’t feel comfortable participating in what you’re going to do…” isn’t that the same as saying, “Go for it man!?” What I wanted to say, but knew that the words would have been wasted, was that it creates a standard. Somewhere at some point, and I might not have enven been in the picture at the time, something he did or said let this person (these people!) know that it was perfectly fine to solicit him in their elicit endeavors. And that pisses me off. #1. He’s a married man with a family. #2. He breaks bread with these friends’ family all the while not only keeping their dirtly little secrets, but helping them pull off the scam. I find it disgusting and frustrating. It makes me wonder exactly why it’s so easy for them to come to him for these favors. is it because they’ve done the same for him and he “owes them one?” Or does he oblige because he thinks he may need the same services in return form them one day. I just don’t like it. Cheat on your wife/girlfriend. Those are your morals, your vows and that is your integrity. But when you involve my spouse, you make me an unwilling party. When so-and-so gets caught not driving his own vehicle, of course his reasoning will be because he left his friend (my spouse!) so-and-so use it to “do his thing.” I shouldn’t have to defent myself against rumors that don’t even have to get started. Hasn’t anyone ever heard of doing your dirt all by your lonely? Geesh.

Every Road Has An End

And what goes on in the dark will most certainly come to the light. No one wants to be the last to know, but what’s worse, the knowing or the knowing days, months, years after everyone else has known, aided and embedded, participated, etc.?

This is a test. This is only a test.

Being cool and calm and calculating my next move carefully.

Busy Body

This weekend I put some work in on the project that I’m not talking about as of yet. Part one is basically done and I need to be working on part two. I’ve also been brainstorming and jotting down some other ideas, ones that I can’t believe I never thought of before, ones that could and hopefully will be ground breaking.

I submitted an excerpt of my short story, Dressing Desire, to my dear friend Claudia Moss for the viral internet campaign to promote her latest novel, If You Love Me, Come. I’m honored and very excited to have been asked to participate.

Funny how I thought I had so much more to say.

Ah, well.

Stayed tuned, folks…. BIG things ahead!


The lessons learned by me over the past week seemed endless and I’m glad to say it wasn’t all bad. There were some really tough revelations and I had to swallow some really disgusting medicine, but the end result was enough to bring tears of joy to my eyes and make me want to reach out ad just draw some folks into my bosom (like grandma used to do).

Foolishly, I thought I was talking and no one was listening. I sat back and listened to the loud silence and immediately formed my opinion on the true hearts some people.

Finally, I had figured out where I stood and I was ready to cover my wounds and move on, standing on the front line alone.

But out of the darkness came those few, those ones who said without saying that they knew, and then came that extended hand that reached down and brought me back up from the side of the cliff.

They do exist. And that’s what matters.

Sometimes things don’t work out the way you thought they would, but they work out anyway. The plan goes through some chops, some deletions and some revisions, but iin the end it’s still your plan. Sometimes it’s not just sitting there behind door number one. Sometimes you have to check for hidden doors behind the book case. It doesn’t matter if you have to reroute your trip, as long as you get there.

And I guess that’s the biggest lesson of all.

You’re never done having to prove yourself, and that’s just what it is.

I write really well, but do you trust that I can cook?

Not really? Well, have a seat in my kitchen and watch for yourself.