Author Archives: Flame Arden

About Flame Arden

Flame Arden speaks like a well-bred Southern lady. Nothing could be further from the truth. She claims to write sex scenes with 'squirm factor'. You be the judge as she opens the boudoir door to one-man, one-woman relationships and gives you a glimpse inside. A happy and lasting marriage prepared her to write sizzling love scenes, and she doesn't disappoint.

No Surprises!


Sex Sells!

Okay. So how does an erotic writer learn to write sex on every  page?

One way is by watching old movies. Very little dialogue, but lots of closeups, loads of emotion. Eye contact. Body language. Touch. Steamy looks. Shy smiles. Raised eyebrows. Quirking lips.

Got the picture? Description. It’s all about the details. Build the tension with every line. Love scenes are filled with action. So is foreplay, whether it lasts only a moment, or builds for weeks.

The best erotic novels have me squirming in my seat by the second page and the squirming never stops. A sexually aware reader knows exactly what the heroes appraising look is doing to the heroine. It’s doing the same thing to the reader. When the heroine smiles knowingly, she pictures steam pouring from the hero’s nostrils as they flare. The reader is getting hot, too.

So get it right, right from the start. That’s what a steamy novel is all about. Set the scene, then move in close. Feel the heat, then describe it. The fragrance of the air they’re breathing changes, too. Arrousal has a distinctive smell that the heroine becomes aware long before lust flashes in the heroes eyes.

Think like a cameraman looking through the lens, then paint the scene with words, instead on film.

Does Love Keep Your World Spinning?


Do your palms get sweaty whenever your man comes around? Do you sigh when he kisses you and think about him all the time?

In this month commemorating romance remember the good times you had, even if he’s no long around to hold you tight.

Love has a way of sneaking up of you. It may be the furtherest thing from your mind, then suddenly there it is, knocking your knees out from under you and give him your sexiest smile. Love sneaks up you in the dark of night, or while dancing to your favorite beat. Love doesn’t need a dictionary description, love just is.

Don’t despair if you don’t have a special date for this weekend. Download a hot read. Curl up with a glass of your favorite wine and your trusty vibrator. Switch on your eReader and get turned on by one of my sexy reads.

I recommend And You, Virginia, Are No Lady.

In it, Virginia Hampton, a successful lawyer, needs a part time private investigator and offers the position to Gabriel Count, the hellion of her senior class.

Gabe wants nothing to do with lawyers, but may be forced to accept Virginia’s generous offer of employment to pay for his mother’s nursing home care. A former detective on the Atlanta Police Force, he resigned after a near-fatal gunshot. He spent three months recovering from his wounds while the shooter walked on a technicality.

Here’s a hot excerpt to make your world spin again:

Judging from the shiny stainless steel and plate glass interior of these offices, Virginia Hampton could afford to put him on retainer.

Gabe stepped out on the top floor and glanced at his watch. Danielle, her sexy receptionist had left for the day, but the light spilling out of the corner office indicated Virginia was still at her desk poring over files. He strolled her way and stopped outside her door.

Glass walls made her office look huge, but no desk would look spacious beneath the mountain of legal files Virginia was sitting behind. She frowned, licked her lips, raked her graceful fingers through her long brown hair. As she picked up her pen and started to write she must have sensed his presence, for she lifted her head, her hazel eyes wide.

Game on.

Closing the gap between them Gabe strode across the plush carpet and halted before her desk. “Burning the candle at both ends? Don’t you know when to quit?”

“I’m busy Gabe. You had your say this morning.”

“About that–”

“Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind?”

“I think reconsidering your offer is a better way of putting it. Why don’t we go get something to eat, and see if we can come to a beneficial agreement?”

“That’s not a good idea.”

“Why not? You have to eat.”

“Not with you, I don’t.”

He took a step back. “Are you still smarting over the way I ruffled your feathers this morning?”

She frowned. “Well, you–”

“I said a lot of things I now regret.”

“You’ve come back to make amends?”

“If you’ll let me.” He lowered his voice to a seductive growl. “How long since you went to dinner on a Harley?”

“Never, and I’m not about to start now. I’ll drive. I mean, if I decide to go, I’ll drive.”

When she reached for her purse a few minutes later, Gabe hid a triumphant grin.

“Wait here, I need to freshen up.”

He nodded, then admired the tantalizing swish of her hips as she sauntered down the hall.

No doubt about it, the lady had class, but he refused to let her turn his head. He had but one purpose in coming here, his financial gain. If the two of them couldn’t come to a mutually beneficial agreement, he’d leave.

And let them repossess my wheels?

The ache in his chest reminded Gabe he had to get Virginia to agree.

He glanced at the top folder on her desk labeled Baxter7.

Okay. What did he know about the Baxter case?

Some joker claimed to have–

He heard Virginia sauntering back down the hall and did some sauntering himself so he could stand on the threshold and enjoy her approach  while giving her an approving grin.

Man, oh, man. She was a looker, every teen’s fantasy and every grown man’s wet dream. Trouble for him with a capital T if he didn’t watch his step.

Don’t touch, don’t even think about enjoying some of that in your bed.

Okay, he wouldn’t, but no harm in a man looking longingly.

Dry dreams were far safer for him.

All three books in the Atlanta Burning series are available for download here:






The Perfect Valentine

The Perfect Valentine

I saw this quote at the post office below a display of Valentines for sale, and it got me thinking about February, the month of love.
Recently on a walk with my dog I spotted a yellow, two inch square Post-it Note carelessly tossed on the grass, or perhaps accidentally lost, bearing the message, “I love you,” and signed, “Jerome.”

Don’t laugh. It’s far better than the young man texting his feelings to the girl.
Digital romance is cold. The girl may not respond. Or worse, an electronic love confession might wind up in the SPAM folder, or never be received at all.
Better to have loved and lost, etc… So I recommend committing confessions of the heart to paper, not ever to a hand-held screen. If the letter, the note, even the Post-it Note reveals heart-felt sentiment, those words might wind up tucked under a loved-one’s pillow instead of being erased.
Countless emotions are set in play when the postman delivers a love letter or card to a surprised recipient. The anticipation. The scent on the envelope. The message scribbled on the back flap. The true meaning of those little X’s and O’s. The thrill of ripping open the envelope, removing the contents of a love letter.
My boyfriends always had a lot to say.
I still have the commercial card a boy I hardly knew sent me when we were in eighth grade. His Valentine read: I like you very much. Be my Valentine, but he had marked through like and written love.
Busy couples who no longer put their thoughts on paper when they are separated for any length of time do not know what they’re missing. It’s so much easier to write love words than to say them and a separation gives the couple the perfect chance. I still have a stack of love letters tied with a blur ribbon my fiancé wrote to me after I dropped out of college to go home and prepare from our wedding. Sure we could have talked on the phone each night, but we didn’t.
Holding a love letter is the second best thing to holding your lover’s hand, so surprise him by expressing your love the old fashioned way. Write a love letter today. Make it hot. If you don’t squirm while you’re writing it, start over again.

My books with lots of squirm factor are available here:

It’s That Time of Year Again.

Christmas Eve by Flame Arden

Goblins and ghosts have returned home to rest and overweight turkeys seek the best place to hide.
I love fall: clear, the cool nights, the colorful show of leaves, the smack of leather as the neighborhood boys play touch football in the street. This is the time of year I begin to look forward to the holidays.
In my erotic novel Christmas Eve, Eve Adore was looking forward to the holidays until her ex dumped her on Christmas Eve.
He isn’t the reason Eve backed her car into a snow bank. She did it all by herself, during the first hours of a snow storm that struck Mount Charleston right before Santa climbed into his sled. Wouldn’t you know it? Eve’s cell phone couldn’t find a signal, so she knocked on the door of a lighted cabin to ask for help.
Nick Saint Clair was no dummy. He invited the sexy woman at his door inside, convinced she was his expected “date”.

Here’s in excerpt of their meet.

“Don’t just stand there.” Nick opened the door wider, anxious to see what his credit card had purchased this time. “Come in.”
“Thanks.” After a slight hesitation, the woman stepped gracefully inside. Ice crystals clung to the fine wool scarf wrapped loosely around her neck, and to her stylish boots. She was all bundled up in a long coat, but Nick’s mind’s eye had no difficulty sketching what he hoped was hidden underneath.
The lady was wearing way too many clothes.
“I’m afraid my boots are wet.” She glanced first at him. His welcoming smile seemed to stun her. She stared at her boots. “Where would you like me to stand?”
“By the fire.” Nick indicated the hearth. “You look frozen.” Although in need of a woman, he had no desire to bed an icicle. He wasn’t that desperate. Yet.
She crossed the room at a slow pace, her fluid movements an aphrodisiac to him, although each tentative step left behind a patch of melting ice. Sex-deprived man that he was, his living room suddenly felt too warm. Things were looking up.
“I’ve been busy on the computer,” he said, surprised by the sudden gruffness of his usually smooth voice. He joined her before the fire. “I hadn’t noticed it had begun to snow.”

Have you ever dreamed about being snowbound with a rich man?
What woman hasn’t?
So Eve gratefully accepted Nick’s hospitality. He set a gourmet meal out before her and she slowly sipped the best Champaign, and when Nick turned on a recording of smooth jazz she welcomed his arms around her, he danced his way right into her heart.
She received the best holiday gift imaginable, a suave companion who allowed her to call a tow truck, then invited her to share his mountain retreat because traffic was stalled on the interstate and her car had to stay in the ditch until after the holiday.
By then Eve was no longer anxious to leave Nick and …

Do you own a Kindle? Download Christmas Eve here:
and steam up your holiday.

You Have To Love Southern Women

Southern women have back bone. Stand up to their children’s teachers. And never step out the door unless fully made-up. They’re raised to say Yes, sir and No, ma’am and to be careful what they do in public because their actions will reflect on their family.

Family is everything. A Southern woman would give up her right arm for a needy second-cousin once-removed she hasn’t seen in thirty years. A Southern woman never forgets a wrong, but is quick to step in and set things right when the guilty person needs help. They are caregivers, and God blesses the man who has a God-fearing Southern woman to love.

If a Southern woman’s house needs cleaning she’s as likely to build a new one without spoiling her manicure. If her mate is faithful, she’ll stick with him through hard times and good, but if she trifles on her heart, she may kick him right out the door. Southern women are born sexy, feisty and quick witted with a sharp tongue thrown in for good measure.

I was raised in a Southern home with two sisters and a brother. I didn’t always get along with them, and may tell you the butcher knife story some other time, but I never spoke a word against a one of them outside our home. When I decided to write my Atlanta Burning series about three sisters I relied on fond memories of life in a hot-and-humid Southern town to include in my books.

 In And You, Virginia, Are No Lady, she asks an old school friend with a bad reputation to help her prove her client’s innocence, because he is the most respected private detective in Atlanta. He rides a Harley and has attitude, but like most Southern men his good looks open doors slammed shut on her. Their arguments are as much fun as the making-up sessions that follow each one.

 In Great Balls of Fire, her former professor asks Paris Hamilton, a public relations expert, to help Winston Harrison Gentry the Third retain a seat on the City Council, which means the notorious skirt chaser has to clean up his act. Paris, a firm believer in rules, lays down the law to Win.

Ya’ll listen up, there will be no hanky-panky on my watch, she tells him numerous times.

Shut the door, Win thinks. This suits the candidate just fine. He’s found his life mate — Paris — all he has to do is toe the line while he reels her in.

In Frankly My Dear, realtor Atlanta Hamilton is the lady who needs taming, and Rob Count knows which buttons to push to land the feisty lady in his bed. There’s a hint of suspense in this book, giving Rob a chance to man-up and keep Atlanta safe. She’s hot-to-trot and has no plans to settle down until Rob convinces her he’s the only man she wants.

These are erotic novels about sensual Southern women put to the test and are available for download at Amazon, Barnes and Noble and other sources for eBooks.