Tag Archives: hot flash


change is the only constant

I’ve been changing some of my backlist as part of the promotion for my current book, Stranger at Sunset. With thirteen titles under my name, it’s not unheard of to use an existing book to help sell a new release, but it’s been tricky. I’ve changed genres from erotica to mystery/thriller. For many reasons, I didn’t write my new book under a different author name, so it’s required some re-branding on my part. A combination of research, luck, dogged determination, and sleepless nights has gotten me to this point.

trust me

This should say: Trust me, I’m NO social media expert.

Many of you have kindly commented on how good I am with social media. It may appear that way, but I’ll let you in on a secret. I follow the successful people and find out what they’re doing and then I copy them! It’s that simple. I don’t listen to “so-called” experts because they change their tune as often as I change my underwear (probably more so). I follow those whose teachings resonate with me. I’m not afraid to put in the hours, and my method of learning has always been to jump in and “do it.” It’s my impatient nature. I’ll make lots of mistakes along the way, but I’ll usually only make the same mistake once.

Screen shot 2014-09-10 at 12.08.29 PM

Go to YouTube and listen to the song. It’s terrific.

I take a lot of inspiration from people who’ve constantly reinvented themselves. David Bowie is one of them. Since the release of Stranger at Sunset end of JuneI’ve sent out close to 600 emails to potential reviewers. I’ve contacted over 100 sites for interviews, guest blogs, etc. Along the way, I’ve made some excellent connections. I have a pipeline of guest blogs and interviews I still need to write. I believe I’m doing all the right things to get my books out there, but it’s a matter of connecting to the right people—the readers. That’s always the challenge.

pressure cooker

Relieve some pressure with “Under Pressure” on YouTube. Great song.

There’s a lot of pressure to succeed. I consider myself a good writer, but I also know that bad writing soars to the bestseller lists, and good writing languishes in the rankings. Life isn’t fair, so I don’t measure myself against anyone else’s successess or failures. I can only gauge my own progress.

Having said this … here are some changes I’ve made over the past months.


(1) I’ve published many of my books to Smashwords for wider distribution. Through it, my titles will be pushed out to Barnes and Noble Nook, Apple iBooks, Sony, Kobo, and other retailers. When those new links are available, I will update my sales sites. For now, all my books are available via Amazon.

Seeking Sexy Sadie old_new

(2) I’ve updated the cover of Seeking Sexy Sadie

This short story is a psychological mystery with an erotic bent, exploring desire and the genesis of fantasy. I’m offering it FREE—forever and ever. You can find reviews from Amazon (where it remains 99 cents because I can’t change it to ZERO just yet). My recommendation is to get it FREE HERE. I mean, why not? That way, you’re saving money and might consider buying another one of my books :D.

hot flash old new

(3) I’ve updated the cover of Hot Flash. As you’ve noticed with the two cover changes, I’ve scaled back the “so-called” revealing nature of my covers. This is because certain distributors don’t want dangly bits, nipples, cracks, and other bodily parts. I mean, really. I’ve always considered my covers quite tame as compared to others in the erotica genre, but … I’m not going to fight that battle.

You can pick up Hot Flash on Amazon and Smashwords for 2.99. It’s a collection of flash fiction. Some are sexy, and some are written with an irreverent sense of humor, because you know … I never take myself too seriously. 😉


(4) Over the next while, I’ll write on other ways I’m trying to sell my books, but of course, we all know that nothing can sell a book more than getting out the next book. It’s a fine balance, so I must return to the writing of A Fragile Truce, the book following Stranger at Sunset.

thank you

A final message to readers, commenters, and those who’ve been so kind to share my posts across their networks, THANK YOU for all you do. Sometimes, your kind words are all that keep me going. Your support means the world to me AND you can definitely trust me when I say that.




Filed under Revelations & Humor, Stranger at Sunset

Valentine’s Day sale on my books ~ FALL INTO WINTER and HOT FLASH #99cents

Love is in the air, and there are many ways to show my  for readers. This year, I’m discounting two of my books from today until the 17th.

Fall into Winter and Hot Flash ebooks are now only 99 cents each! A combined savings of over 75% !

If you’ve ever thought of buying my books, now is the time to do it. Read a sample, peruse the reviews, and see if they are to your liking.

I hope you pick up one or both books. Feedback, good or bad, in the form of an honest review is always appreciated but never mandatory. The most important thing is you enjoy the stories. 😉

~ eden

* * * *

Fall into Winter

Amazon: US | UK | Canada ~ Smashwords

Fall into Winter is a provocative collection of four distinct, erotic novellas.

With locations in New York, Canada, Thailand, and Austria, four women will make choices that lead each of them on an unforgettable journey.

* * * *

HF final cover

Amazon: US | UK | Canada

Hot Flash contains flash fiction and poetry. Some are erotic, some not.

The themes of love, lust, adultery, and regret are told in different voices, sometimes with an irreverent sense of humour.

* * * *


Filed under Promo of ebooks, freebies, Promo of Fall into Winter

The Power of Being Human ~ A story for @RBwood’s Word Count Podcast

You can also hear me read this story on: Episode #33 of R.B. Wood’s “The Word Count” podcast.

The prompt for this podcast is  “You’ve discovered you have a superpower…”

*  *  *  *

I’ve never been one for super heroes, the stuff of fiction and cartoons—shape-shifting, costume-wearing, web-wielding characters. They’re the only ones who possess super powers. I find it difficult to believe that being human is not enough, and so we strive to become super human.

Perhaps it’s our nature to want more.

I thought hard about this writing prompt, and I could not come up with more. Unlike R.B. Wood, the host of this podcast who is an incredible writer of the fantasy genre, I do not possess imagination for powers that go beyond what is humanly possible.

My mind is too steeped in reality and what I perceive as its confines. This is not going to be a warm and fuzzy story, or an erotic story, or even a story with a twist ending as per many of my previous podcast submissions.

Prepare yourself for someone who’s a non-believer of heroes and super powers because this is a non-fiction story.


Fantasy, daydreaming, and play were discouraged. Considered idle and pointless activity that could not possibly lead to success, all games and toys needed a purpose; otherwise they served only to squander time.

These are not my words, but a summary of my upbringing.

Today’s standards are different, of course. How my parents raised me would probably be criticized, seen as an enormous burden for any child not to have fun just for fun’s sake, especially during those formative years prior to schooling. My parents brought me up in a country where they were not raised. The cultural unknowns made them cautious, even fearful. They were too busy earning a living, discovering how to cope in a foreign land to pay attention to having fun themselves, let alone create it for their children. Fun was incorporated into domestic chores, family time, and learning new things.

My grandfather, who was the head of the household, taught me carpentry. I used power tools and swung a hammer before I was ten. I helped him build cabinets and stools. That was both fun and purposeful—a winning combination. The expectation was I should behave and obey my elders, contribute to the family as much as I could. I really don’t remember not having fun while growing up.

In my early twenties, I started traveling and visited museums and galleries in Europe, a way of exposing myself to art, an area of my education lacking at the time. My strongest recollection involved how children were depicted during the Renaissance era. Artists like Raphael, Boticelli, and Da Vinci painted them as small adults with tiny bodies out of proportion, some with severe and aged faces.

As impressed as I was with the magnificence of the paintings, it shocked me that so many of these works distorted the appearance of children. I researched it further, and through it, I discovered something about my own childhood.

My parents always considered me a miniature adult and treated me like one, especially since I was the oldest of three kids. In looking  through old photo albums, I confirmed as much. I saw numerous pictures of myself posed like the strange-looking children in the Renaissance paintings.

BW me

Me at three

Perhaps I missed some fun in those early years of my life. I don’t remember really, and I wasn’t an unhappy child. I’d like to think I was a serious child who grew up not taking myself too seriously.

Super powers may have been too fantastical for me to believe in, even if my parents had brought me up differently. What I do believe in is the wonderment of being human and all it entails. I’m no scholar, but I know I have powers that are uniquely human. We’re the only species known to blush, revealing our innermost emotions. We’re able to reason, to possess self-awareness.

As an adult, my dreams are not unlike those of a child who still believes in super powers, only mine are tempered with real-life experience, a dash of pragmatism, and a heavy dose of optimism. For me, that’s pretty damn powerful.

If you enjoyed this story and would like to read a collection of flash fiction and poetry, pick up my ebook Hot Flash. 

Click on the cover and LOOK INSIDE to read a sample.

Available at Amazon:

US | UK | Canada | Germany | France | Japan | Italy | Spain

No Kindle? No Worries.

There is a Kindle App for just about any electronic device (Click here to get one).


Filed under Short Stories & Poetry

Blessings of Life and Death ~ A story for @RBwood’s Word Count Podcast

You can also hear me read this story on: Episode #32 of R.B. Wood’s “The Word Count” podcast.

The prompt for this podcast is  “Being dead can be quite liberating…”

*  *  *  *

Eyes filled with tears stared back at her, reflecting pain and disbelief. The sum of every line, every wrinkle, and every tiny imperfection on the face belonged to Bill, whom she married fifty years ago. She knew his face as well as her own. They had celebrated the milestone anniversary only six months earlier. At the time, she contemplated how anyone deserved to be as happy as they were. She counted their blessings: four children; ten grandchildren; three great-grandchildren and another on the way. Though the family scattered across the globe, they united often for celebrations.

Last night was one of those celebrations. Their oldest grandson just graduated from medical school at the top of his class. Hailing from a long line of physicians on her side of the family, she could not be prouder. Both their grandson’s parents were specialists, their daughter a radiologist and their son-in-law a cardiologist. There were so many “o-logists” in the family someone once joked they could open their own hospital.

They were a close-knit family, though it didn’t start out that way. When she first dated Bill, her parents said it would never last. They referred to him as an uneducated laborer and did not even consider their words derogatory, just a statement of fact.

“He won’t be able to match wits with you once you become a doctor,” her mother said. “You’ll have nothing to talk about.”

She didn’t listen to her parents, and married him, not for his witty conversation, but for love. What angered them more was that she got pregnant a few months after their wedding and left school once their son was born. In the eyes of her parents, death may have been a better alternative for her. At least, they could say their daughter wasn’t a failure. For some time, they didn’t even acknowledge their own grandchildren.

The turning point came after Bill’s construction company won a huge contract, and they no longer had to struggle financially. By that time, the kids were older and able to look after each other. She returned to school to become a doctor of general practice. At almost forty, she wanted to prove to herself that she could do it, and she did.

All the more ironic, somehow, that she and Bill ended up in this predicament together. With little feeling on her left side, she cradled her husband’s head where it had fallen against her and wiped the tears rolling down his face. Her tiny palm cupped his cheek.

His lips parted to say something, but blood trickled out the corner of his mouth.

“Shhh… don’t speak.” Her voice trembled. “You’ve just bitten your tongue, nothing serious, my darling.”

The amount of blood flowing from his mouth suggested something else. Her words were a lie, like the many comforting words she’d said to patients before they went into shock. The difference on those occasions was she had the power to try and save them. Years of being an emergency triage doctor had sharpened her diagnostic skills. In her husband’s case, she suspected internal bleeding caused by trauma to at least one major organ.

She stroked his cheek and her face lightened with compassion. The corners of her lips turned upward despite that she wanted to scream. She bent forward and kissed him. “I love you,” she said. More tears streamed down his face. He gave an imperceptible nod and squeezed her hand.

She saw him struggle to return the sentiment, but no words escaped from him; his breathing grew labored.

“I know,” she said, bobbing her head in an exaggerated nod. “I know. You don’t have to say it … I know.”

Bill’s eyes rolled back in his head and his body shivered. She gripped him tightly, trying desperately to disregard the signs.

“No … no …” Her face twisted in agony. The pain that seized her body could not match the emotional upheaval. She convulsed with sobs for a long time, cramped in that front seat of their crushed, overturned car. She heard the sound of birds chirping, muted traffic noise, but otherwise, it was quiet. The tiny ray of sunlight, which peeked through the shattered passenger window now brightened the interior of the car. In the distance, sirens blared. She could not tell if they were getting louder.

When the jabbing pain in her arms could no longer be ignored, she gently released her husband.

With eyes closed, she counted her blessings.

If you enjoyed this story and would like to read a collection of flash fiction and poetry, pick up my ebook Hot Flash. 

Click on the cover and LOOK INSIDE to read a sample.

Available at Amazon:

US | UK | Canada | Germany | France | Japan | Italy | Spain

No Kindle? No Worries.

There is a Kindle App for just about any electronic device (Click here to get one).



Filed under Short Stories & Poetry

One Stolen Night ~ A story written and read for @RBwood’s Word Count Podcast

You can also hear me read this story on: Episode #31 of R.B. Wood’s “The Word Count” podcast.

The prompt for this podcast is The Thief. 

*  *  *  *

Brenda and David had a Thursday night ritual triggered by a series of signals. The first came when Brenda put on her black satin negligee after a regime of skin care and grooming. She slathered her arms and legs in Jergens lotion and brushed her hair—one hundred strokes before twisting it in a bun atop her head. After crawling into bed, she switched the lamp to the dimmest setting. David, upon entering the bedroom from brushing his teeth, pulled down his gingham boxers and slipped under the covers. The second signal involved Brenda draping a leg over David’s torso, gently brushing his penis. In the ensuing silence, foreplay consisted of light groping and kissing with no tongue until Brenda mounted David and rode him. As she neared climax, she reached behind and stroked his balls. This final signal was the cue for David to squeeze her nipples—which set off her orgasm. David’s muted grunts followed only seconds later.

After dismounting, Brenda got out of bed and opened the dresser drawer to retrieve a face towel, one of many neatly folded inside. She went for a pee and then soaked the towel under hot water, wringing it dry. Brenda held it between her crotch and jumped up and down to expel David’s semen. She rinsed the towel and repeated the process twice more.


David was a man who liked predictability. It’s what drew him to the actuarial sciences to begin with. Statistics and numbers made sense to him. This morning, however, as he sat in his office and stared at the framed image on his desk—something no longer made sense. The picture showed him with Brenda on their wedding day eleven years ago. Only moments prior to that shot, Brenda whispered in his ear, told him how sexy he looked, and how she couldn’t wait to leave the party and have him all to herself. Just as the photographer snapped the picture, she grabbed his ass and squeezed. The expression on his face in the photo conjured up memories of why he married Brenda—spontaneous, exciting, and unlike him—unpredictable.

David didn’t even like Brenda on top. He was an ass-man, always had been, and he couldn’t see Brenda’s ass in that position. Last night when Brenda returned to the bedroom, he pretended to be asleep curled in a fetal position facing away from her side of the bed. He wasn’t in the mood to have her wipe down his private parts with a scorching hot towel. For added insurance, he even faked snoring though he hated himself for deceiving her.

The more David thought about it, the more annoyed he became that they had fallen into this rut. He adored Brenda and he was certain she felt the same for him. What happened to the David and Brenda of their wedding day?

To increase the probability of their marriage’s long-term success, he resolved he had to change, and he wasn’t going to wait until next Thursday to do it.


Brenda entered the bedroom to find David lying on top of the covers, naked.

“What are you doing?” she said, her teeth brushed, her lithe frame in a tattered flannel nightie, and in her hand, a glass of water.

“I’m stealing some time with my wife,” David said, sitting up.

Brenda furrowed her brow and walked tentatively to the bed. She placed the glass on the night table. “But … but it’s Friday.”

David extended his arm and pulled Brenda into bed with him. “You mean it’s not Thursday, our usual night.”

“What’s gotten into you?” she asked.

David stared into his wife’s eyes and leaned in to kiss her. Brenda did not respond at first, but then she opened up and accepted his probing tongue. After several seconds, David reluctantly pulled away.

“Brenda, our life has been on a merry-go-round lately. Are you happy?”

“I … of course I am …” She averted his gaze. “Why … are you unhappy?”

“Brenda, I’m not unhappy, but I want the carefree woman I once knew. I want the us we used to be.”

Brenda looked at her husband, confusion written across her face. “But I thought you liked routine?”

“I do,” he said, “just not in the bedroom.” David reached over and pulled the pin out of Brenda’s hair. “I prefer it down.”

Brenda shook her long tresses and brushed it forward with her fingers. “What do you have in mind?”

“I want you on your hands and knees. I’ve missed seeing that gorgeous ass of yours.”

Brenda’s eyes widened and her lips parted as if to say something, but nothing came out.

David’s words sounded foreign to his own ears, but he’d calculated the odds of being rejected, and it was low. He received his confirmation when he saw the twinkle in Brenda’s eyes.

After David and Brenda made love like they hadn’t made love in years, they clutched one another and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

In one stolen night of intimacy, they changed the course of their relationship.

If you enjoyed this story and would like to read a collection of erotic flash fiction and poetry, pick up my ebook Hot Flash, which includes two non-erotic stories too.

Click on the cover and LOOK INSIDE to read a sample.

Available at Amazon:

US | UK | Canada | Germany | France | Japan | Italy | Spain

No Kindle? No Worries.

There is a Kindle App for just about any electronic device (Click here to get one).



Filed under Short Stories & Poetry