Friday, March 16, 2012

I Swear, I Just Found Everything I Need

***Today, we have a wonderful guest blog from the lovely Sommer Marsden. Please to enjoy!!***

Happy release day to me and thanks so much to Heidi for letting my giddy self on her blog today!

Angry Sex is my new book and I hope it turns out to be as hot as it sounds. I'll admit it, the fact that my heroine in Angry Sex is a mom, well that just tickles me pink. It might be surprising to find out that the book was pretty much my version of written therapy for the end of 2011. Some of what is in the book reflects my real life and the frustration and anger I felt on a daily basis. Some days it was pretty staggering. I needed something to channel that rage. Two things usually work for me: sex and writing.

I mixed the two this time.

The level of anger I was feeling, which for me, is often caused by feeling powerless and inept, was humbling. So one day I sat down and my main character Luna started talking to me. About her hardships. About her own feelings of powerlessness and her own blinding rage. I got to witness how she channeled her feelings with Adam in the form of angry sex. Or as he says, like therapy...only naked.

Angry sex (the real kind) can be a godsend, hot and intense and a huge release. So writing a book full of anger-tinted sex was a huge release for me mentally. I found ways to release my frustrations by letting Luna release hers.

Things are better now. They have shifted and turned and I still have days where I feel angst--I think I'd be dead if I didn't feel that way occasionally--but for the most part, that dark time has passed. Now maybe I need to write a book called Happy Sex. Or Content Sex. Or...Om Sex?

Either way, I'll move on to the next project and there will be part of me in that one too. There’s part of me in all my books, as it should be, but for some reason this one feels very special. Not just because my main character is a mom, but because she finds a way to do something for herself to help herself cope. And that's important for us all.

So you may be wondering…um, Sommer, during that time did you do more than just *write* about angry sex? I'll answer that one by just saying: What do you think? ;) I will also say I’ve never been one to shy away from physical research. If you get my drift.

At the end of the tour, every comment from readers at any of my guest blogs will count as one entry into a chance to win a copy of Angry Sex on my blog ( . So if you have any questions, comments, or just want to say howdy, please do!

And thanks again to Heidi for letting me show off my newest book on her shiny happy blog!


Luna Watkins can’t remember feeling so stressed. Her teenage son Nick’s health issues are reemerging and her ex Ben wants to help but is just making ends meet with odd jobs. Her catering business is thriving but too hectic for her to handle, at least that’s what it feels like. Not to mention since she’s been divorced, she hasn’t dated much and has had sex even less. When Nick decides to visit his grandparents for the summer, Luna is devastated. And yet, she sees a chance to work through her anger and her angst. Maybe some time to feed her body, mind and soul knowing he’s well taken care of.

Enter Adam Singleton, her new, last minute server. Handsome, gruff Adam who’s working through his own anger. Flirting turns to sparring. Sparring turns to angry sex—like therapy but naked. As time goes by and Luna and Adam become even more entangled, with their hardships and each other, the question becomes, does angry sex turn to more anger…or peace?


When he pulled into the driveway, she had to put her hands on her belly to soothe the nervousness that felt barely contained in there. Luna put her forehead to the steering wheel for a moment to try and quiet her screaming brain. Her breath was a fast pant like she’d been running and that was how she felt–overwhelmed, galloping heart, possibly might be ill.

There was a rap on the window and she unlocked the door without looking up.

“You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Because women always do this when they’re fine.”
“You make me nervous.”

“I thought I made you angry,” he said tugging her arm. But she didn’t move.
“You do make me angry—I mean you don’t make me angry, my life is making me angry, you just seem okay with me expressing it. And you won’t crumble.”

“Of course not, boss lady,” he said and tugged her arm again. This time she turned a bit in the driver’s seat but didn’t get out. At least she’d picked her head up.
“But you make me nervous because you let me be angry.”

“And you’re not used to that.”

“Come on, Luna.” He pulled a bit more insistently and she turned, got out, stood up. Adam brushed her hair behind her ears and kissed her. It was rough, unkind and it turned her on to no end. She stood on tiptoe demanding more of him. He gripped her ass tight, held her flush to his erection—there was no secret it was there—so she couldn’t squirm away.

“Open your front door so we can take this inside,” he said, his lips pressed to the skin above her jugular. When Adam pinched her nipple, she wasn’t expecting it, and she jerked against him, crying out softly.

It was getting dark, and she hoped the whole damn neighborhood wasn’t watching them do this in her driveway.

“Come on,” she said and took his hand. “Let’s go.”

It was almost impossible for her to fit the key in the lock. But she finally managed, reminding herself that she was the one who wanted to let go. She jumped when his hand came down over hers, helping her guide the key to turn it.

“Come on. I thought you were strong,” he said, lips pressed to her ear.
He was goading her. She knew it. He was pressing her in order to steady her nerves and sharpen her focus. It worked. A surge of rage heated her inside and as if by cue her pussy went wet and soft for him. And for herself. For release.

“Watch it,” she said, pushing past the threshold. Her body grew rigid, first in confusion, thinking she had to be quiet because of Nick. Second, because she realized the house was empty and to her it was entirely unusual. Her shoulders sagged a little and she took a deep breath.

“Come on, boss lady.” He’d caught the vibe—anger mixed with grief—she had no doubt. He pushed her forward with a firm but gentle hand and she stumbled some, forgetting her own damn tile inlays on the hardwood floor.

“Hey!” Her voice was more sadness than anger.

Her knees hit the sofa and she lost her balance, her legs buckling. Luna grabbed the back of the sofa and let out a growl. It surprised her. He hadn’t pushed her, he’d nudged her. He hadn’t put any force behind it but here she was falling and feeling stupid and yes…angry.

There was a split second where she could have ignored it, but she didn’t. There was a heartbeat where she could have talked herself out of it, but she didn’t. Luna bunched her hand into a lazy fist and turned, swinging blindly at the hulk of a man in her living room. She let out another cry when she connected, a glancing but hard blow, off his broad chest. She was mortified that she’d given into her base urge to actually strike someone—especially someone who hadn’t really earned it, if you got right down to brass tacks. But the mortification was fleeting when he grabbed her fist and pulled her in, wrapping his free arm around her waist and staring her down.

She blinked. Burbled with hysterical laughter.

“Feel better?” His face was tight and unreadable. What felt like annoyance, rather than anger, baked off him in waves.

“No,” she said, shocking them both by crying.

He pushed her back and she stumbled again. This time her ass hit the sofa hard enough that she pretty much bounced right back up to standing. Luna barely heard Adam say, “Then do it again” when she blindly swung, this time hitting his shoulder.

Oh fuck. Oh Jesus. What was wrong with her? This wasn’t Fight Club. This wasn’t a book, or a movie, or even a joke. She was hitting this man who had zero to do with her rage. And he was letting her.


She sobbed, nodding. “No.”
“You’re nodding but you said no.”
“I know.”

“You’re just so full of it, aren’t you?” He stood there. A handsome, patient monolith who held all kind of secrets. At least it felt that way.

“Full of what? Shit?” she stammered.
His face broke into a fleeting smile. He chuckled. “No. Full of anger.”

“Oh, that. Yes, that,” she said. “Yes, I am. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said, and pushed her so her ass hit the sofa again.

Luna screamed. She heard the noise burst out of her like a whistle from a teakettle. He laughed…at her. And then when he dropped to his knees, bringing them face to face, he said, “You are so fucking weak.”

And that’s when she slapped him across the face. This blow was not glancing. This blow was not soft. This blow hit home with a satisfying whack and a wince on his good looking features.

“Better?” he asked.

“Yes,” she whispered. Realizing she meant it. That had done it. Her body felt looser, her chest lighter, her soul not as dirty. And she could see her palm print coming up on his stubbled cheek and she felt so very horrified—but even that felt great.

“Good,” he growled and then he yanked her pants down around her hips so hard her button popped off and rolled to the floor and the zipper growled as it tore and broke.

She lifted her hips, arched her back, let him pull down her ruined pants and her white panties. He pulled her legs free of all the fabric but handled the panties for a moment.

Just white cotton briefs. Fairly new. No big deal. Not sexy at all, she knew. Nothing to write home about. Heat and embarrassment stained her cheeks as he stared her down. Then he surprised her by stuffing them in his pocket and said, “Fodder for later. I love white.”

She blinked, but only had a second to savor that stunned feeling. Only a moment, and then his mouth—incredibly hot and firm—touched down on her thigh. Adam kissed up to the top of her leg, around her flank until her skin erupted in goose bumps and she shivered. When he kissed her some more, moving his mouth slowly inward toward her inner thigh—toward that soft, tender skin that was so damn sensitive it made her tremble—her heart staggered in her chest, trying valiantly to withstand the shock of the moment. Of having him in her home, being half naked on the sofa…about to do what they were about to do.

“Spread your legs, boss lady.”

Her legs fell open and her fingers dove tentatively into his sandy colored hair. She threaded her fingers through the short, soft strands. The heat of his scalp bled into the palm of her hand and he made a small noise that almost made him seem vulnerable. She had no time to question it, because he found her nether lips with his tongue nudging the tip between her wet folds before finding her hard clit and working it roughly, so she gripped his hair a bit tighter.

“There you go,” he whispered, chuckling. But all she could do was nod her head dumbly.

She didn’t make him wait—or herself. Luna pushed her body up to meet his seeking mouth. She let her legs fall open a bit more and refused to feel self conscious about it—this was what they were doing. This was what they’d talked about. Sex. Just sex.

Buy Link (will also be available at most online venues and coming soon in print)


Miz Angell said...

Howdy Heidi. :D

Sommer, as always, reading about your process is a lesson in the art of writing.

An apple for the teacher perhaps?

Sommer Marsden said...

Apples work, Angell. One of the few things I can stand right now! ;) Thanks for coming over. You rock.