Eat Dessert First

And here is the second story from Eden’s Garden.  Eat Dessert First is a light LGBT romance short read for your enjoyment.  Available on Kindle and Kindle Unlimited.


Lelo has the ultimate friendship in Sasha. A person that cares for her, supports her, makes her laugh and enjoy life. Will she risk it all and follow her heart for a chance at romance? What if Sasha doesn’t share her feelings, doesn’t understand and walks away? Is it worth risking the friendship?


My pulse quickened as Sasha took my hand and led me into her freshly decorated bedroom. Libraries had only slightly larger collections of history books than she had amassed. Every wall of the room from the floor to the ceiling was lined with them. I felt EatDessertFirstCoverJPGunworthy and stood there in a sort of rapturous awe akin to a religious experience.

“When I move, I’m giving these to you, Lelo,” she laughed but her cheeks didn’t light up the way they used to.

“Don’t you want to read them again?” My question made her look up at the ceiling. As familiar as I was with the gesture, I didn’t understand her tears. We shared everything, even embarrassing things like our first dates and the first time we had our hearts broken. Silent tears were strange creatures that kept the distance between us, but they had become increasingly familiar over the years.

When I first moved to Somerville, in second grade, Sasha was my first friend. I was her only friend. We painted each other’s nails and shared the same stick of bubble gum. There was a certain shyness in her soul that beckoned me like a moth to a flame. The fire in her made me burn with a curiosity to know everything. We began our kindred search with history books.

Twenty years and seven address changes later we were still best friends. We posted book reviews and critiques, sent countless emails, and spoke on the phone daily, though seldom saw each other. Her father was stationed in Los Alamos and we were both finished with college. She wanted to be closer, so I found an apartment for her. With my best pair of Keds on, I helped move carefully sealed boxes out of the van and into the freshly painted apartment. We sat on the floor and ate Chinese food unfolding the food containers into plates.

“You want me to help you unpack?”

“I’ll drive you nuts with my library OCD. Everything has to be in the correct order or I’ll spend hours fixing it,” she laughed pointing to numbers on the boxes. I knew all of her nuances. There was nothing more I wanted than to tell her everything I felt in my heart, but the fear of losing our friendship stopped me.

“You sure? I can count, you know.”

“No, I’m good. It will wait until tomorrow,” she said, laying her head against my shoulder. Her silken tresses brushed against my neck and I wrapped my arm around her waist, holding her so close that I could feel her heart beating like a hummingbird’s. My gut told me something was wrong, but I was too afraid to find out what it was. Silently, I prayed that she would confide the torment of her soul, but the hush only grew between us until I said goodnight.

King of the Mardi Gras

Eden Freed is working on a few exciting projects.  In the mean time she has some Short Stories From Eden’s Garden, just to hold you over, till then.

Just a quick taste or a tease if you would, her short stories debut with:

The King of the Mardi Gras, now available on Kindle.


“Phillip!” she screamed for the stagehand as I walked in wearing my best wool suit and closed the door behind myself. Lydia Thompson faced her fair share of gentleman callers since her Burlesque troupe, the British Blonds, arrived in the United States but I was decidedly different. I was greedier than most and she looked at me with uneasy eyes.

“Cher, don’t be frightened. I am here to make a business proposition. We would love to feature you and your troupe in New Orleans.”

Lydia relaxed a little and laughed, “Then, you, sir, are wasting your time. I have a schedule of engagements. Good day to you.”

“I’ll not be dissuaded so easily. Surely there is some enticement I can offer, something your heart desires,” I suggested, easing the door open and looking out into the hallway. When she peered out into the dimly lit hallway and saw no one, Lydia let out a sigh. “Were you expecting someone, perhaps?” My wry smile sent a chill through her that I was certain even the devil himself couldn’t have produced. These modern women so skittish. Be a good kitten, take the bait.

“If you please, Mister…”

“Louis, Louis Solomon,” I replied lifting her hand up to my lips with a mixture of finesse and charm that could teach the devil a thing or two.


Can Lydia navigate waters of a deal murkier than Louisiana swamp, to get her hearts delight or will she fail and succumb to mediocrity both on stage and in her bed. A sweet tale of love, Mardi Gras style.