Saturday, May 3, 2014

Inside the mind of Sommer Marsden

This is an unauthorised blog! I've stolen this from my other blog, Coffee-Fueled Erotica, because it's for one of my favourite writers - and favourite people - in the whole wide world!

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Today we have the endlessly talented Sommer Marsden with us to share her latest release and tell us a little of what goes on in side of her dirty little mind! 

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 Lost in You, Restricted Release, Boys Next Door, Restless Spirit, and Learning to Drown. Visit

We're big on caffeine here at CFE, so what's your favorite drink with a kick? What's your guilty pleasure?

Salted Mocha Caramel from Starbucks. Caffeinated. Sometimes I get decaf, I’m not supposed to have a lot of caffeine. But you said “guilty pleasure” so…yeah. Fully leaded it is.

What drew you to this genre?

An accident. I found an erotica piece online while doing research for a mystery novel and wondered if…Like: I wonder if I could write this. So I tried.

What's your favorite subgenre in Erotica? (eg. BDSM, LGBT, Paranormal, etc.)

I think a tie between Paranormal and Contemporary. But also love me some BDSM and LGBT so…um. The answer is “Yes”.

How long have you been writing?

I’ve been writing all my life, seriously since college. I’ve been writing full-time/professionally for nine years. Time flies when you’re talking to the people in your head.

Please describe your writing environment.

Wherever I can sit or stand and bang out a few words. Though I do gravitate to the ugly pink chair in the living room and my standing desk that is capable of being rolled through the house and yet I somehow always park it by the window in the dining room. But I’m scrappy. I’ll work just about anywhere I’m capable.

What is your writing process? Do you outline, fly by the seat of your pants or a combination of both?

I’m a pantser all the way. I do my pages for the day and then at the end in caps I’ll give myself a prompt of what the next step in the book is so that I don’t forget which direction my brain was headed. I usually have a general idea of the plot and outcome of a novel but beyond that it’s all a surprise to me!

Do you have a ritual when it comes to writing? Example….get coffee, blanket, paper, pen and a comfy place?

Coffee, girl to school, second cup of coffee, morning protein shake, feet up in ugly pink chair and my most productive hour is about to happen (usually). I work in small cycles throughout the day but usually that first chunk of time is when I can bang out the most words for my buck J

Stilettos: Sexy or not?

If you feel sexy in them, absolutely. If you don’t, then no. It’s all about how you feel.

Do you have anything special you do to get into the writing mood?

Nope. I just look for an opportunity and wedge in as many words as I can!

Does this make my butt look big? 

Nope. You’re a tiny thing:

What’s been the most challenging part of writing erotica, for you?

Not having so much sex it’s unbelievable. I love the sex scenes. I love the intimacy. I love how vulnerable my characters usually are in those moments with one another. So I have to rein in the sex otherwise all my folks would have some serious chafing.

Where won't you go with erotica? What are your taboos?
The standards. Underage, abuse, the like. If it makes me oogey, I won’t go there.

Erotica has the ability to be as sweet or as raunchy as you like it. Where do you feel your work fits in the spectrum?
 I feel I’m midline. I can be extremely sweet, I can stick a foot into raunchy. I think I basically fall in the addictive and captivating range. Fingers and toes crossed. ;)

What is the hardest part of writing a sex scene?

Nothing. I love the sex scenes, they’re my favorite parts.

Do you ever have issues with the language, specifically when referring to anatomical parts? I mean how many ways can one really say dick or pussy without it getting a little old? Are there any terms you refuse to use or, on the flip side, are their words that are your go-to words simply for the shock value?

I refuse to use euphemisms. They drive me insane. Make me bonkers. I stick with the standard words and I try to mix them up or rephrase so they don’t get repetitive. So instead of “cock” one hundred times one might mix it up with shaft or tip or whatever depending on what’s going on. It can be done without inserting a ‘hot rod of love’ in your book! (unless you love euphemisms…then go for it. It’s your book, after all).

Can you share a little of your current work with us?

This is from the Accidental trilogy—book 2 The Accidental Girlfriend:

“This is it.” Charlie cut the engine and turned to look at me. I could see my breath inside the car. It was supposed to be warmer.
“It’s nice,” I said. The cabin was courtesy of Jed. Charlie’s friend was a caretaker of several cabins in Pennsylvania. Which meant he had an in at getting his friends reduced rates in the off seasons. A rainy, windy March was definitely off season.
Wind rocked the car and Charlie sighed. “Okay, so it was supposed to be warmer,” he said.
“A little.” For some reason it suddenly struck me as funny and I snickered.
“And sunnier,” he said as the rain picked up and banged the windshield with tiny wet fists.
“I think Noah just floated past.”
He frowned at me but it was playful. A high trickle of laughter slipped out of me and I clamped a hand over my mouth.
“Woman,” he muttered to me, shaking his head. Then he took my hands in his and my humor faded. My pulse raced. “It doesn’t change anything,” he said. “We can still spend time alone, we can be together. You can figure out—“Here’s where Charlie shook his head and looked away.
We were there to see if I could take the next step—be his girlfriend. Or if we were going to have to be done. He loved me. Or at the very least, was beginning to love me. I was sitting on the proverbial fence like it would come to life and I could ride it off into the sunset.
It wasn’t that it would be impossible to love Charlie. I fucking figured I was more than seventy-five percent there already on most days. If not more. The problem would be accepting it and being at peace with it. I was barely a year out of a divorce. I’d been someone’s wife for twenty years. So, why did being someone’s girlfriend seem so daunting?
“What?” I asked, though part of me didn’t want to know. “Figure out what?”
He smiled crookedly and popped the lock on the car door. “If I’m worthy,” he said, as if it were no big deal. Before I could say anything at all he stepped out of the vehicle. Cold rain invaded and I let out a squawk and opened my own door.
“Oh my God!” I screeched, heading for the door of the cabin. Fuck the clothes. We could get them later. I ran along the pebbled path and saw in my peripheral vision, Charlie hurrying up behind me, only he had a suitcase in each hand. The temperature hovered around mid-forties but with the cold rain and wind it felt well below freezing. I hit the painted wooden porch and suddenly the sensation of being airborne hit me. I wasn’t. I could tell I wasn’t. I was, in fact, sliding along the porch. I lost my balance, bounced off the painted red front door and fell on my ass.
Charlie was right there, then, suitcases forgotten. “Jesus, Abby! Are you okay?” He touched me, running gentle seeking hands along my body. When he reached my right ankle, I winced.
“Ooch,” I whispered.
“Ooch? Not ouch?”
He wiggled my ankle and I gave a strangled little cry. “Ooch! Ouch is so overused,” I hissed. “Heath used to say it. It’s a joke between me and my kids. I guess I never let go of it.” I was babbling.
“I don’t think it’s broken,” he said, looking at it, prodding and manipulating so I had to stifle the urge to punch him in the head. “Maybe a mild sprain. Let’s get you in.”
He stood, pulled the key from his pocket and unlocked the door. Then he stopped to get me. “I can stand!” I argued.
“Put your damn arms around my neck and let me be the hero for ten seconds,” he said. He was smiling but his eyes were serious.
I put my arms around his neck and took a deep breath. I let myself be vulnerable for a second. It was uncomfortable but doable. I was starting to see what might be our problem.

Do you have any advice for other writers?
Write. Don’t give up. Write some more. But be more than an ass in a seat. The richer your life, the richer your writing.

Thank you so much for being here today, Sommer! I know I can't wait to read this latest release! And if you're ready to dive in too, click the links below to purchase!

Buy Links:

All Romance Ebooks

“I just realized that you were born the year before I graduated.” I suddenly felt less sexy older woman and more of a creepy aged predator.

“So?” He went to the counter and I saw that Pat was working. I waved to her. She looked at me and then at Charlie and gave me a grin. She was only a few years younger than me.

I couldn’t look directly at her and was having vivid fantasies about bursting into flames or the floor opening up and swallowing me whole.

What is wrong with you? He’s a grown man, not a child. He’s young but he’s obviously smart and honest. Who are you to question his attraction to you?

The thought startled me and I pushed my lips together as he paid her for his snack and turned to me. When he looped his arm through mine I felt my body go rigid. “You’re an ageist,” he said in my ear as he led me out of the store.

I put the brakes on in the foyer. It was chilly but there was still heat blowing down from the overhead vents. Charlie looked down at me, his slouchy beanie at the perfect angle on his head to accent how damn pretty he was.

“I am not an ageist!” I hissed. “I’m just a little thrown…is all. I’m…out of practice,” I finished weakly.

“Surely men have flirted with you even when you were married.” He led me out into the whipping wind. Small wet snowflakes were beginning to dot the pavement.

“I guess. I mean, yes, once or twice. But you are—“

He turned to me, his face suddenly serious in the stark white light from the streetlamps that lit the parking lot. “Please don’t tell me I’m not a man, Ace.”

I bit my tongue. Had I been about to say that?

“Oh, I wouldn’t. I mean, I know you are. Just to me you’re so…new,” I said, smiling. I felt almost sad. “You’re so new and your life is stretched out before you. You have all this stuff to do and experience and live. You have lots of marrow to suck up.” I clicked the button on my key fob to unlock the door.

“And your marrow has dried up?” he asked me over the hood of the car.

“What? No! I have plenty of marrow! I just meant…”

“Well, that’s how you’re making it sound.” He opened the door and climbed in. We both shut our doors in unison. He set his chips and soda on the floor and turned to me. “Did it ever occur you, Abby, that I might be your marrow?”

Before I could react or answer, he tucked his palm behind my head and pulled me to him. His mouth was warm and soft. His tongue tasted of the sweet coffee he must have been drinking at work.

I kissed him back. For all I was worth. For every thing I’d once thought I would do but hadn’t. For every dream I hadn’t given a shot. For every wish I’d let drift off into the ether. I kissed Charlie for every single one of those and all the fresh ones I still wanted to give a shot. I kissed him because in that moment in time, he was my damn marrow.

And he was so much smarter than I’d ever even considered.

His fingers slid along my scalp, sifted through my hair. He kissed me deeper, his tongue hot against mine. He paused to push his face to my hair and inhale deeply. My stomach felt like it dropped a foot.

“You smell really good, Ace.”

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“Now was that so terrible?”


He chuckled in the cold darkness of my car. “Good to know it wasn’t terrible.”

I couldn’t bring myself to say anything beyond, “Do it again. Please. Do it again.” I didn’t recognize my voice as my own. There was so much life in it. A husky, smoky kind of want that resonated through the silence.

He pulled me to him again and teased me with the softest kiss I’d ever received. For a moment I wasn’t sure he was actually toughing his lips to mine but then he pressed his mouth to mine a bit firmer and I felt a shuddery little breath shake through me.

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