SPILL THE TEA, BITCH,
NOT THE WINE.
MA’AM. How did bestie look THAT gorgeous after delivering that perfect, precious little baby?
Fuck you, bitch. But also, YAS QUEEN.
I’d done this twice though, and I knew what going home feels like.
Ain’t no boot camp that can prepare you for the simultaneous delight and absolute fucking torture of the early motherhood experience. (They don’t use sleep deprivation as a torture tactic for nothing.)
And as a woman, you kind of tend to lose who you are for a minute. I had, too.
So I made plans.
Two weeks after baby was born, I found a wine fest to take my woman to 6 months from now. To celebrate her crawling out of those early days, and to kick start our next eras of mom-hood.
I planned. I saved. I made childcare arrangements for both of us. This shit was going to be legendary.
Then the tickets came available months later, and they were double what I’d expected. Double.
FUCK.
I knew that no matter what, she would be over the moon to spend the evening together, kid-free.
But me? After everything I’d built up in my head, after going to WAR for my own childcare… I couldn’t just show up with wine.
I knew anything less than fireworks and I’d be bringing deflated vibes. She knows me so well that even if I never told her the original plan, she’d see the disappointment on my sleeves like neon signs.
Abso-fucking-lutely not.
Because if I’m ugly honest? I really, really needed this night too.
Ok.
Pivot.
There would be wine. Because, duh.
…We always loved reading wine labels…what if I connected the bottles? ...Maybe with a story?
…OH MY GOD. what if it were a STEAMY ROMANCE STORY?? Like, with ACTUAL SMUT?!
Immediately yes.
Wait… how do you write smut?
I'd never read a page in my life.
Fuck it, let's give it a go.
Two weeks later, I let her in on our date night plan.
“You are the reason I write smut.”
“I've never been more flattered in my life.”
So I brought two bottles, she brought two bottles, and I hit go on the playlist.
I took a giant gulp of liquid courage. And then a few more.
Writing smut is already one thing.
Reading that shit OUT LOUD?
MA’AM.
Outrageous and mortifying. But also hot and hilarious. I was toasted before we'd gotten halfway through the first…and I'd brought two stories.
We laughed until we were crying and couldn't breathe.
“Bitch, we need to do this again.”
...Welcome to Spicy Wine Tasting.
Let's fucking GO.
SPILL THE TEA, BITCH, NOT THE WINE.
MA’AM. How did bestie look THAT gorgeous after delivering that perfect, precious little baby?
Fuck you, bitch. But also, YAS QUEEN.
I’d done this twice though, and I knew what going home feels like.
Ain’t no boot camp that can prepare you for the simultaneous delight and absolute fucking torture of the early motherhood experience. (They don’t use sleep deprivation as a torture tactic for nothing.)
And as a woman, you kind of tend to lose who you are for a minute. I had, too.
So I made plans.
Two weeks after baby was born, I found a wine fest to take my woman to 6 months from now. To celebrate her crawling out of those early days, and to kick start our next eras of mom-hood.
I planned. I saved. I made childcare arrangements for both of us. This shit was going to be legendary.
Then the tickets came available months later, and they were double what I’d expected. Double.
FUCK.
I knew that no matter what, she would be over the moon to spend the evening together, kid-free.
But me? After everything I’d built up in my head, after going to WAR for my own childcare… I couldn’t just show up with wine.
I knew anything less than fireworks and I’d be bringing deflated vibes. She knows me so well that even if I never told her the original plan, she’d see the disappointment on my sleeves like neon signs.
Abso-fucking-lutely not.
Because if I’m ugly honest? I really, really needed this night too.
Ok.
Pivot.
There would be wine. Because, duh.
…We always loved reading wine labels…what if I connected the bottles? ...Maybe with a story?
…OH MY GOD. what if it were a STEAMY ROMANCE STORY?? Like, with ACTUAL SMUT?!
Immediately yes.
Wait… how do you write smut?
I'd never read a page in my life.
Fuck it, let's give it a go.
Two weeks later, I let her in on our date night plan.
“You are the reason I write smut.”
“I've never been more flattered in my life.”
So I brought two bottles, she brought two bottles, and I hit go on the playlist.
I took a giant gulp of liquid courage. And then a few more.
Writing smut is already one thing.
Reading that shit OUT LOUD?
MA’AM.
Outrageous and mortifying. But also hot and hilarious. I was toasted before we'd gotten halfway through the first…and I'd brought two stories.
We laughed until we were crying and couldn't breathe.
“Bitch, we need to do this again.”
...Welcome to Spicy Wine Tasting.
Let's fucking GO.
SPILL THE TEA, BITCH, NOT THE WINE.
One of my besties was crawling her way out of the chaos of early motherhood.
That felt like a damn good reason to celebrate. (IYKYK.)
Not with a basic girls' night.
With something extra.
Something a little outrageous.
A little indulgent.
A little... us.
...So I wrote a steamy story to guide our wine flight.
One sip led to another.
One scene got hotter than the last.
There were blushes.
Tipsy squeaks.
Laughing so hard we couldn't breathe.
And somewhere between the first pour and the final scene, Spicy Wine Tasting was born.
Because sometimes self-care looks like wine, smut, and a few questionable decisions in very good company.
We're here for the nights that feel like a slumber party with adult privileges—bold pours, dirty stories, and the kind of chaos that ends up in the group chat tomorrow.
So pour the wine, bitch, and let's fucking GO.
A little inappropriate.
How did Spicy Wine Tasting happen?
Spicy Wine Tasting started as a wild hare of an idea for one of my girls—a little extra something to celebrate her finally crawling out of the chaos of early motherhood. Sure, we could’ve just cracked open a few bottles and called it a night, but where’s the fun in that? I wanted laughter, connection, and DEFINITELY a touch of scandal.
So, I wrote a steamy story to guide our wine flight—and damn, it was genius. One sip led to another, one scene got hotter than the last (cue the squeaks and blushes), and before long we were laughing until we couldn’t breathe.
Now, that one girls’ night has turned into a full-blown experience. Spicy Wine Tasting is for the women who do it all but still crave a little mischief. It’s for the girls who want connection, who want to feel flirty and alive, and who know self-care can look like wine, smut, and a few bad decisions in good company.
We’re here to make your night in feel like a slumber party with adult privileges—messy laughter, bold flavors, and stories that’ll leave you blushing for days. So pour the wine, bitch, and let’s fucking GO.
Cheers, bitch.
Join us for the only night when finishing ISN'T the best part.