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! 

New Kid on the Mat

I started yoga at a new gym. Granted, I'm no expert.

This right here...

Yeah, that's not me. I'm not even close.

But I have been doing yoga for many years. My mat shows sufficient deterioration, I can hold a pretty good dancer or camel, and my twig is nothing to sneeze at, either.

Recently I decided I wanted more yoga in my life, so I began attending classes at a new gym, to supplement the ones I already take. It's wonderful. I feel fantastic.

EXCEPT for the fact that I can't help feeling like the new kid on the mat. The new classes I attend are overcrowded and the regulars seem particularly wary of new attendees in an already cramped studio. Of course, the classes are crowded for good reason. The instructor is phenomenal. But as much as yoga involves strength and flexibility, it also involves peace and love and calm, and I'm not feeling much of those things when my classmates shoot daggers at me for adding one more body to the room.

They're not mad at me, of course. They're angry with the facility for providing its members with insufficient studio time, but they're taking it out on me. It's like being sold a ticket to a sold-out theater. It's not your neighbors fault, it's the theater's fault!! But wait... peace, love, and calm. That's better.

I spent much of the last class with someone else's shoes in my face. I was pressed up close to the wall where others had stashed their things, and by the end of the hour I'd built up a healthy resentment toward a particular pair of zebra print Danskos. (Peace love calm peace love calm)

I'm not giving up on the class. I'm going to suffer through being the new kid on the mat for as long as I have to. Most of my classmates will stay, but some will come and go, and eventually I won't be the new kid anymore. When someone else comes along to fill this role, I'm going to scoot my mat over and welcome them with a smile. And I'll sure as hell move my shoes out of the way.

Every Kiss Does Not Begin With Kay

I found myself suddenly nauseous on the treadmill the other day. Was I pushing too hard? When had I last eaten? No, the culprit was none of these. I found myself having a physical reaction to the Kay Jewelers commercial on the screen in front of me.

Okay, so this woman looks like she just needs to take a good poo, but you get my point. And I never wear my hair down or lip gloss or earrings on a treadmill. Fine, the picture was a bad idea.

But ALSO a bad idea would be buying your new stepdaughter a diamond in the hopes of creating the basis for a loving blended family. Have you seen the commercial? Does anyone know what I'm talking about?

Sure, some ladies like their bling. If you want to buy your sweetie some sparkle, knock yourself out. But mommy's new beau giving a diamond pendant to the kid is creepy and sets a dangerous precedent. After that, her teenage years are sure to put you in the poorhouse.

What really bothers me, though, is the notion that if you give a woman a diamond, she will love you. Or that she needs a diamond to know she's loved. And I don't think many people actually feel this way, but Kay Jewelers sure as hell wants us to. Screw that. Every kiss does NOT begin with Kay.

Just keep smiling. Even if it's another necklace. Please be Game of Thrones. Please be Game of Thrones. Is there a swan on my head?

EROTICA INTERVIEW: Elaine Ambrose

I recently conducted an interview with Elaine Ambrose, author and contributor to the poetry collection DAILY EROTICA. In addition to writing erotic poetry, she is one of the funniest and most entertaining people I've met. Enjoy!

Gianna Day: When did you start writing erotic poetry?

Elaine Ambrose: I started writing erotic poetry because it was more fun than writing corporate annual reports. Instead of "maximizing shareholder value to achieve our strategized objectives" now I can write, "She gasped as he slowly moved the ice cube across her navel." 

GD: Do you write more for "you" or for "him"?

EA: I write from my perspective and the results usually please both of us. I know what I like and he loves to find out. 

GD: Do you find men and women respond to different content, do women like romance and men like it dirty, or is that just a stereotype?

EA: I think it's a stereotype to say men only respond to dirty trash. Unfortunately, that's all that many men have ever seen. It's amusing when 13-year-old boys sneak peeks at girly magazines but it becomes pathetic when grown men rely only on pornography to feel sexual. Men can be romantic with the proper stimulation and encouragement. 

GD: In addition to Daily Erotica, you wrote Menopause Sucks. Does age have an impact on the erotic side of life? For better or worse?

 

EA: Age can impact how women feel about their bodies and that can make them feel less sexy so they are hesitant to get intimate. No one really wants to discuss vaginal dryness, sagging skin, loss of libido, and weight gain. Fortunately, there are medications that can help with dryness and libido. As for skin and weight, it's good to exercise regularly to get in shape to have the strength and stamina to make love for hours. And, don't forget soft candlelight, mood music, and a few glasses of wine. After all that, both of you will be irresistible. Remember that the partner is aging too, and passion isn't limited to the young. Age brings a certain confidence because there are no more games to play. And, most important, I guarantee that multiple orgasms are better at midlife than they are in your twenties. Trust me!

GD: What turns you on?

EA: I get turned on several ways: different positions, no pajamas, looking eye-to-eye during playtime, and knowing we both equally enjoy passion. As for fun and creative ideas, I wrote a poem in Daily Erotica titled "The Reverse Plank." It's definitely not about the missionary position. 

GD: What turns you off?

EA: Not much turns me off. I'm ready to go with a few creative touches, much like a clown in a jack-in-the-box. Of course, that's only with my partner.

Hey Jack, what's in the box?

GD: What are you working on now?

EA: I am writing a non-fiction book titled Midlife Cabernet that contains essays about life, love, and laughter at midlife. Full-bodied, bold, and sophisticated isn't referring only to good wine!

GD: Do you blog? Where can people find you?

EA: Find my blog "Midlife Cabernet" at my web site www.ElaineAmbrose.com. The blog also is published on BlogHer.com, ProjectEve.com, and Jennings Wire. I'm active on Facebook, Linked In, and my Twitter handle is @AmbroseElaine. My publishing web site is www.MillParkPublishing.com. I honestly say that my love life gets better every day - and night...

If you write erotica and would like to do a guest blog interview, email Gianna Day at giannadaybooks@gmail.com. 

The Argument for Erotica

I think that if a person wants to read a story that has sex in it, they should be permitted to do so. (I'm not going to weigh in on the porn industry because I don't work in film, I work in words). But there are those who have suggested that this is bad, implies a flaw of character or lack of moral integrity. I'm completely at a loss when confronted with this mentality.

Sex is a healthy normal part of being human. So are fantasy and imagination. I'm an adult writing for other adults. My job does not expose me to diseases or drugs. I do not force my work on other people and if they seek it out and don't like it, they are free to post an unfavorable review with an expression of their opinion.

So what's the big deal?

It's been suggested in the argument against porn, that porn creates an unrealistic and unattainable image of what sex really is or should be (again, just stating how some feel, not offering my own opinion). This thinking has been transferred to erotica, with the implication that reading erotic stories creates in women the same false image. If that's true, why stop there? Let's ban all romance writing and certainly in film we must do away with romantic comedies. We don't want people pining for the storybook ending that will never happen. We might as well take away anything that glorifies anything. The underdog team that wins the championship, the lone crusader for justice who defeats the bad guys.

This thinking becomes so muddled and illogical that I get to a point where I can't even take the naysayers seriously. I might be able to understand an argument against words on a page if those words promote hatred or bigotry. But when it comes to erotica, the goal is pleasure. A healthy and happy person can also be a sexual and imaginative one. There's nothing wrong with that.

Don't take away Grandma's erotica, it helps her sleep. 

Bookshelf Porn - I'm in Love

Okay, have you seen Bookshelf Porn? If not, you need to.

It's a visual tribute to the love of books and reading. 

Here's an image you might see on Bookshelf Porn:

Is that not awesome???

This is my new favorite site. It includes pictures of impressive libraries around the world, unique bookshelves, books as art, people kissing in between stacks of books, and a million other cool images you have to see. 

Here is the About page and how to connect on various social media. Here is the full photoblog. Because we can all use a little Bookshelf Porn in our lives. 

Hot Yoga Man

I think this guy is hot. And it has nothing to do with his age, race, or muscles. It has everything to do with humor and health.

Laughter is sexy. Laughter brings balance into the otherwise serious and often heartbreaking world. I love a man who can laugh at himself and bring joy to those around him. It implies a self-assurance and innate peace that attracts one human to another.

The physicality is equally sexy, but it's not about the muscles. Sure, muscles can be a turn on, but hotter than chiseled abs is a man who works hard to take care of his body. Who invests in feeling good through movement and hard work. I find the same qualities sexy in women. It's not about the dress size, it's about honoring the amazing human form and treating it right.

There's something about this picture and the elements it combines that I find undeniably pleasing. I look at his face and wonder what he's thinking, whether it's Hurry up and take the picture or Hey, look, I'm doing it! So many yoga photos show people practicing with serious faces, because the face is supposed to be relaxed. Maybe that's why this one caught my eye. It's almost as if instead of smiling for the camera, he couldn't help but smile, even though he wasn't supposed to. Dear yoga man: in the spirit of joy and health, I salute you.

Also, here's a picture of me writing today's blog:

Just kidding. I'm not quite there. Yet. 

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.”

10 Habits of Happy Couples

I love this list of 10 habits of happy couples and felt compelled to share it. Courtesy of Psychology Today, this list includes some things that we already know, but sometimes need to be reminded of. Personally, I love the one about doing a "weather check".

Read the full article here and remember to put more love in your life.