Trips Down Imagination Road

As part of my blog tour, Sylvie and the Spark was recently reviewed by Trips Down Imagination Road. Here's what they had to say:

I received a copy of Sylvie and the Spark in exchange for my review.

Sylvie broke up with her boyfriend Dave because there was no real spark between them outside of the bedroom. Shortly after a pair of twins move into the hall opposite, though Brent and Jonathon couldn't be more different. At first Sylvie goes for Brent, classically handsome and seemingly interested, though it turned out to not just be in her. Slowly she gets to know Jonathon and discovers that the brother she should be with was right there all along.

Sylvie and the Spark is a novella that captures the every day love life of Sylvie, and it is every day, which is what I loved about it. Firstly there was her mediocre relationship, then the perfect one that wasn't perfect, and finally the one that should have been all along.

It wasn't just Sylvie's relationships that worked on an every day (and awesome level). She works at a diner, because she wants to (something that I can most definitely relate to!), and her relationships with her mother and co-workers all seemed like normal interactions. To be honest it was refreshing to have such a normal heroine as opposed to the perfect girl who has the perfect life.

Also the author got the awkwardness of first time sex with a new partner spot on. A lot of books have the smoothest run up to sex every time, even if it is the character's first time. But in Sylvie and the Spark there's the awkwardness of having a new partner, and yet with a realistic way of it working.

There were funny moments in this book, oh my God moments and all out sass, everything that makes a good and realistic romance! 

Humble Your Warrior

I’ve practiced yoga for years. Hot yoga for the last few months. But last Friday I felt like a complete newbie.

I’d heard people talk before about sudden waves of emotion during yoga, about getting weepy or panicked, needing to rest. It had never happened to me before, so perhaps my inner warrior grew a bit… cocky.

The hot yoga class I take is an hour and twenty minutes. I went every weekday last week, so by Friday I was on my fifth day in a row. The first half of the class was great, though I did notice that it seemed even hotter than usual, well over 105˚. During the second half of the class, I found myself thinking about death.

That’s odd, I thought, as death is clearly not the intention I set at the beginning of this class. 

But it wouldn’t go away. Death was in my head. The deaths of loved ones, my own death, and whether or not I was going to die of a heart attack right there on the studio floor. I backed off, went to child’s pose, focused on breathing out longer than in. I couldn’t slow my heart rate and my throat began to choke with emotion.

Then I did something I’ve never done before. I left early. Never bailing on a class is something I pride myself on. After all, I’m the person that suffers through a class even with the worst of wardrobe malfunctions (which you can read about here). But maybe my pride had grown out of hand. I had to leave. I mouthed the words I’m sorry to the instructor, who graciously smiled and mouthed back it’s okay.

I’ve had three successful classes since then. I’m glad that it hasn’t happened again, but I also know that I’ll be okay if it does. It’s a practice, after all. And every now and then it’s good to humble your warrior. 

I don't see the word death in there anywhere, do you?

Relaxation and Ax Murderers

I'm a big fan of meditation. I try to listen to a hypnotherapy session a few times a week. This is a twenty minute recording during which a voice assures me of my general competence and fosters optimism about my dynamic and compelling future. Seriously, I'm not making this up. And while it may sound a little flaky, it works.

Last week I decided to listen to my meditation recording while relaxing in a hot tub. I could ease my mind and muscles at the same time. It would be the do-it-yourself equivalent of paying big bucks to be pampered at a spa. This is what I told myself.

I put my headphones on, blocking out all other sound.

I closed my eyes.

But after a few seconds, I stopped focusing on my dynamic and compelling future and started imagining an ax murderer creeping up behind me. Because there I sat, marinating in the hot tub with my eyes and ears closed off from the world, the perfect victim waiting for this guy to come along...

So I'm going back to meditating while in the safety of my home and behind locked doors, because I've learned that suffocating terror is a direct impediment to optimism. You learn something new every day.

Blog Tour Coming Soon

I’m gearing up for a blog tour. This is a way for indie authors to get the word out about their work. You prey on the generosity of book bloggers, those dedicated readers and reviewers to whom many of us owe our success.

A blog tour involves getting the attention of bloggers to gain greater exposure through their sites. Hopefully, those bloggers specialize in the genre in which you write. A writer or publisher will also offer giveaways during the blog tour. Any writer can set up a blog tour on her own by doing a little research of blogs relevant to her work. You can also hire a company that specializes in this type of PR.

A blog tour for Sylvie and the Spark will take place in March or April. If you have an erotic blog and would like a review copy, please email me at giannadaybooks@gmail.com.

Happy blogging, happy reading. 

Funny, Sexy, and Free

Sylvie and the Spark is a free download right now on Amazon. Here's the link.

This is the first novella in a trilogy. It will make you laugh and turn you on. Now if only it would exercise for you, too, it would be perfect. Download it, read it, and please please please review it. You'll know after the first chapter if it's for you or not. Go on, give it a try.

Reviews Rule the World

It’s true. And I think it’s for the better. Because that’s the culture of commerce we now live in, it can be hard to get a new product or voice off the ground. So, I’m asking for help. I would love to provide free content of my work to ten people who agree to give it an honest review. If you can carve out a few minutes of your day, please, help a girl out.

I’ll send you a pdf of Sylvie and the Spark. Take a look (it's short, a novella around 27K) and review it on Amazon. I’m only asking for honest, genuine feedback. Here’s the catch, Sylvie is an erotic comedy, so you have to be okay with a few graphic scenes and four-letter words. If that sounds like your kind of pleasure reading, please email me at giannadaybooks@gmail.com. If you write something along similar lines, I’d be happy to provide an honest review of your work, as well. 

Sylvie and the Spark - Sneak Peek

SYLVIE

and the

SPARK

Book one in the Sylvie Series

Gianna Day

Chapter 1

“You’re just so…” Dave looks into my eyes and runs his finger down my cheek.

Please don’t say pretty. Anything but pretty.

“You’re so…”

If you call me pretty for the thousandth time I’m going to try to gnaw my own face off just to ensure that I am no longer pretty.

“You’re so… pretty.”

“I am not pretty, Dave.” My voice is loud and edgy as I jump from the couch.

“But Sylvie, you’re so pretty.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, pacing back and forth in front of him. “I mean, thank you. Thank you for thinking I’m pretty. And I know this is our foreplay, that you tell me I’m pretty and touch my face, which truthfully has always struck me as just a little bit creepy. I mean, it’s almost a tickle, like you’re tickling my cheek and I think that’s weird. Is that weird? Is this just me?” I stop pacing and look at him for an answer.

“I could touch your arm first, would that be better?”

Resume pacing.

“No, Dave. Look, I have to be honest. We need to try something different.”

“Gosh, Sylvie. What if I called you beautiful?”

Don’t pull your hair out in front of him, he’ll be scarred for life.

“Dave.” I sit back down on the couch and hold his hands.

“Yes, Sylvie?” He looks like a second grader hoping someone will pick him for their kickball team.

“Could you just try to be less of a puppy?”

“Less of a puppy?”

He flashes his puppy dog eyes.

“Yes.”

“You want me to be a kitty?”

“No, Dave. I don’t want you to be a kitty. I want you to be a tiger, Dave.”

“A tiger?”

“A tiger!” I stand back up. “I want you to be my big strong tiger and I want you to roar for me.”

“You want me to roar?”

I take off my shirt and bra, unbutton my jeans, stand before him, and cup my breasts.

“Show me what a tiger you can be, Dave.”

He stands up from the couch and speaks in a tone I’ve never heard before. It is deep and guttural and almost a growl. “I’ll show you what a tiger I can be.” He pulls my hips roughly into his. Then he slides one hand into my jeans and a finger inside me. With the other hand he cups my neck and puts his lips to my ear. And he whispers: “Roar.”

I actually whimper in response. He takes off my jeans and panties and then quickly removes his own clothes. This tiger thing is actually working, and if need be I will role play through an entire zoo of wild animals if that’s what it takes to get us out of our rut and into some hard core rutting.

“I’m going to fuck you like a tiger,” he says, and literally throws me down on the couch. I ignore the pain of what will later be a nasty bruise on my shin, because I don’t want to break what we have going.

“That’s right, Dave,” I whisper. “Give it to me.” I’m more excited than I’ve been in a long time. He comes to me on the couch, hovering over me as I wrap my legs around him. He leans down until his cock barely grazes me, but then pulls back. I’m aching and arching up for him. He does this again and I claw at his back.

I’m both fearful and hopeful that he’s going to keep up the tease. He leans his head down next to mine, whispers, “I’m a tiger,” and enters me with startling force.

I’m ready to settle in for a good long screw, but Dave has new life in him, which is a good thing for his sake. He uses one arm to brace himself against the couch and the other to scoop me up from under my waist. He’s still inside me as he pivots until he’s sitting upright on the couch and I’m straddled on top of him. With my hands on his shoulders I push myself slightly up and then sit down hard on his cock, grinding in with all I have. He moans, kneading my buttocks. I come down on him again and he leans forward to suck on my right nipple, before moving to the left, so as not to play favorites. My hips slow but move with the same force; I’m savoring every second of riding him. I should have asked him to be a tiger years ago.

He spreads his fingers wide and puts his hands on my sides, high at my ribcage. He uses his hands to guide me up and down and we begin to move faster. And for the love of all things naughty, I detect an orgasm in my future, that long departed but fondly remembered friend who lessened in frequency the longer Dave and I kept up this boyfriend-girlfriend thing. But I’m not dwelling on the past now. I’m rising up and coming down hard on Dave, who still has his I’m-a-tiger face firmly in place. When I come down on him I linger for a second and press hard before rising up again. I throw my head back and he reaches up, trailing his fingers along my neck and down my chest. I place my hands on his forearms; they are muscled and taut and suddenly sexy.

“Fuck me,” he says. And I do.

“Fuck me,” I say. And he does.

I ride him for only another minute before I feel a lightness in my toes. It rises up through my ankles and calves and knees and thighs. Sensation explodes through my cunt as Dave grits his teeth, moans and bucks up into me. He pulses inside me. We rock for a few more seconds before coming to rest. I want us to be here forever. I’m about to tell him that we should do this again, that I can’t believe we’ve broken new ground, that I want to laugh with him and love him and screw until we’re too sore to keep going. And then he looks up at me and raises his arm.

Don’t do it.

His finger trails my cheek.

Stay with me, Tiger. Come on, don’t turn puppy on me now!

“You’re so… pretty.”

Book Trailer for The Sylvie Series

It's 28 seconds, so go ahead and hit play. Check it out this short book trailer for The Sylvie Series, now available at Amazon.

Here's the description of Book 1, Sylvie and the Spark: One night of phenomenal sex isn’t enough to convince Sylvie that she should stay with Dave, her long-time boyfriend who borders on dull when not in the bedroom. When a set of twins moves in across the hall, Sylvie’s horizons broaden, though this pair might not turn out to be exactly what they seem. With a backdrop of inappropriate coworkers, a humping-addicted mutt, and a set of sexy suitors, SYLVIE AND THE SPARK is sure to please, in more ways than one.

There's Room for Laughter in the Bedroom

I'm happy to say that the first two books of The Sylvie Series are now live on Amazon. The genre of this series is erotic comedy. When I mentioned to friends, a hetero couple, a few months back that this was what I was working on, they looked perplexed. Erotic comedy? That's a strange mix.

I didn't think so. I see erotic comedy as the evolution of romantic comedy. It also speaks to a group of consumers who enjoy erotica, but can't stand the melodramatic. Sexy doesn't always have to be serious.

I found my friends' reactions interesting and we talked about it a little more, eventually agreeing that women are perhaps more open to laughter in the bedroom than men. Of course, that's a sweeping generalization, but take it with a grain of salt.

Men just want it dirty, my male friend said. We don't want to laugh about it.

Sometimes women do, I countered. Sometimes the idea, the topic, and the act of sex all feel so serious that we just want to lighten things up. The female half of the couple agreed.

Laughter, like sex, can be a release. And many women instinctively gravitate to anything that relieves the pressure of a thousand different commands that bounce around in our brains, including: be sexy, look pretty, lose weight. These are unfortunate and unrealistic voices that we hear, and we often relate them to sex. I don't think it has to be that way. I vote to turn off those voices and permit ourselves to giggle.