You’re Never too old for…a girl fight! Sommer Marsden on Tour!

Welcome a lady who makes me laugh, smile and giggle on a regular basis. Sommer Marsden is a great online mate and a fantabulous (yes, that’s 2 words that have bred to make a bigger, better word for how awesome she is)author. She’s here with her latest release and a girly fight. Enjoy!


You’re never too old for a…girl fight


That’s not true, but it’s funny. I’ve only been in one real fight as an adult. Oddly, it was started by my mother at a bar after my sister’s birthday party. But that’s a whole other blog and possibly a story one must sit and drink to hear.

I wrote a girl fight into my book The Accidental Cougar. I hadn’t intended to. I had Abbey going to a party with her peers and taking Charlie along as her date. Little did I know until I started to pen the festivities that she’d end up, well, in a girl fight.

I hate to admit it, because I’m a lover not a fighter, but it was one of my most treasured scenes in the book. And every time I proofed it, I giggled.

I certainly hope my readers enjoyed it as much as I did.

Here’s just a tiny-tiny taste of it:


Everything was fine.

Until after Michelle left and the party started to wind down. For the first time since his hand had been on my ass, he pulled me in and touched me intimately. His hand snaking down to cup my right cheek as we made our way to the door. And that was when Gabby Stover—the only woman at the party I couldn’t stand—opened her big, opinionated mouth.

“Can you believe this happy horse shit? What’s he, ten?”

Whoever was with her snorted. But it was a non-committal snort and I couldn’t tell anything beyond the fact that it was an acknowledging sound.

I froze and Charlie felt it. He’d heard her. Everyone within her vicinity had.

“Keep walking, Ace.”

He said it out the side of his mouth. His warm breath brushed my ear and his hand moved up to tighten on my waist.

Normally, his reassurance and support would have been enough to keep me going. But then I heard: “Is he holding onto her so he won’t get lost? Where’s his teacher? Aren’t all kids supposed to be accounted for before they board the bus?” She laughed; it was an ugly sound. My heart broke for Charlie because I’d been exactly where he was at that fateful house party.

The person with Gabby said, “Gabby…hush.”

That made me take a deep breath. She was alone in her cruelty. She was out there lost in nasty-girl land.

I turned fast even though Charlie tried to steady me and Louise reached out to put a hand on my arm.

“Shut it, Gabby,” I said. Boy, that felt impotent.

Louise’s fingers tightened on my arm. “Stupidity is fueled by wine,” she said. Remindingme that the three of us had polished off three bottles of a wonderful Cabernet.

I had plenty of fuel.

But it had been such a lovely night. My best friend, my new…Charlie. We’d all been talking and getting along and laughing and now this. My own personal forty-something version of the mean girls at the house party. My own personal jerk here to make Charlie feel bad for something as inconsequential as his age.

“Oh, wow. Did it take you long to think that up?” She snickered. Her friend shook herhead and broke away, going out the side door.

“Gabby, leave it alone,” Louise said. “Don’t you have a broom waiting to take you homesomewhere?”

“Come on, Abby,” Charlie said, pulling me gently.

But I didn’t want to budge.

“Is this how you get over a marriage that failed? You date a first grader?”

It wasn’t so much the dig at my marriage failing. I’d had a failed marriage, so had Louiseand if gossip served, so had Gabby. It was the dig at Charlie. Charlie who had done nothing wrong and, if anything, had miraculously managed to teach me a few things about myself over the last few weeks.

I pulled my arm free of him and felt him give another desperate grab, but I was moving.

Despite hearing Louise chanting, “Abby—Abby…Abby!”

I found myself toe to toe with Gabby. Short, dumpy Gabby to my tall, curvy brunette self.

She’d been a bitch in high school and apparently, she still was.

“Take it back,” I hissed. In the back of my mind, the sober part, I knew how trivial and stupid and cliché that sounded. And yet, with some wine under my invisible belt and Charlie there to protect, for that’s what I felt I was doing, it seemed too fucking important.

“I will not. You cow.”


She nodded. I could see how alcohol-shiny her eyes were. And I had no doubt that minewere probably well on their way, if not, already, equally shiny. But…cow?

I inched forward, practically on top of her. “Take. It. Back.”

“I. Will. Not.” She grinned and I saw she was still as evil as could be even twenty-some oddyears later. “Isn’t he about due for a nap? A diaper cha—”

I didn’t really notice I was moving until I had ahold of her hair and her head reared back.

“Take it back!” I bellowed as if I were trapped in some 80s barbarian movie.

It was quite horrifying, being aware of it way back in the non-crazy part of my head.

Elegant woman


What would be the harm in a little fling? What would be so bad about bedding a young man who could technically be my son? He wasn’t my son. He wasn’t my anything. But he could possibly, if I could unclench my ass long enough, be my lover.

My lover.

What was so bad?

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Author Bio:

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