Powered by PayPal
The Crimson Fantasies
When Magdalene encounters Samuel Crimson, how could she predict that her mind, body and soul would become enraptured by his hybrid-love?

Brace yourself!

My Crimson fantasies are filled with humour and horror, suspense and steamy bits. Your thirst for the unpredictable will be seduced. An attic of secrets and a forbidden house, a kidnapping and a pub crawl, not one but two prison escapes, all have one thing in common ― a nine-hundred-and-twenty-seven-year-old vampire named Sir William Simon Hennessy. A multitude of revelations await you in the past, present and future.



Sneak Peeks at Random
The following is an excerpt from page 118 of The Crimson Dream:
In that small passage of time, when she bit into chocolate and opened her mouth to describe to Sir William the joyous sensations within her, he leaned in and kissed her. He pressed himself hard against her, forcing the compression of his body to hers, not allowing her to pull back, and pushing her to the wall. His hand brushed across and rubbed one nipple ever so slightly. Into her mouth went his tongue to taste hers, covered in chocolate, sweet with flavour. He felt the intensity of her emotions overcome her; she did not resist his passion. Her body moved into his and opened as a pear would split to a sharp blade. And when her breath stopped short and he sensed she was near to passing out, he scooped up her light frame and brought her to the bed. Every part of his vampire body came alive; his hunger smouldered for her blood, for the taste of her lips, her skin, her armpits, her thighs, to explore and taste every sublime crevice wholly with mouth, eyes and hands. His senses would become one with her body.

Sir William withdrew to throw off his jacket. He stepped out of his trousers and tossed them to the floor. Next came his dress shirt followed by his under garment. His naked body, aroused and ready, remained above Catherine, letting her eyes prey on him, to see and believe that what was happening was actually happening. The man who would seduce her with his mere presence would change her life forever, as only a master could with a weapon of power.

The following is an excerpt from page 224 of The Crimson Crimes:
Samuel Crimson, a most sought-after hybrid vampire, looks down at the empty chair. The four guards stand, one at each corner, with hands resting on gun butts, the leather snaps of their holsters open to allow quick access to their weapons. The female steps in to cut off Samuel's handcuffs then backs away. The fresh bruises on Samuel's face tingle with pain. He feels his swollen lips every time he swallows or speaks, and his eyes hurt every time he blinks. He pulls out the chair with his foot and gingerly sits, the tenderness in his groin and legs acute.

"Is it not illegal to take blood from someone who hasn't officially been arrested? What am I being held for?"

"Please extend one finger and then choose which arm you would like me to use," demands the professional, reaching across the table with a lancet to stick his finger. A length of tubing is laid out on the table, to tie around his upper arm.

"Did you hear my question?" asks Samuel. He thinks he sounds funny speaking with swollen lips. He reaches one hand across the table and his finger is pricked. The smear of blood is rubbed onto a small glass slide, which in turn, is inserted into the meter to test his hemoglobin level. The reading is normal.

"He's good to go," says the professional.

The female guard says, "Good. We don't want the big guy to faint on us, do we?"

This elicits a chuckle from the other guards. The professionals do not react.
The following is an excerpt from page 104 of The Crimson Boy:
"Of course," said Sir William with confidence. His nostrils flared and her fragrant scent curled in his nose. He inhaled quietly, filling his nasal passages deeply, while simultaneously bringing to mind an image of her on the rack as Samuel was above, turning the crank.

Sir William, on rare occasions, however extreme, would respond to the female species with arousal. He was surprised; sitting across the table from Magdalene incited in him a desire for wanting a woman the old-fashioned way, through intercourse.

He smelled again, breathing in far longer, allowing the scent to remain inside his nostrils, holding it with his mind, recognizing her scent, attaching it to her as though it were a silk cover clinging to her limbs. He couldn't stop looking at her. The lingering aroma of marijuana was picked up; caught in the material of her clothes.

"Are you a real...I mean...are you a...," she dared not say the word.
The following is an excerpt from page 6 of Mounting the Bedpost:
He lays exuberantly

in my arms.

He nudges and nips

my edges.

He breaks my skin

and confesses,

he cannot keep his hands

off of me.

With hardly a telltale sign

he fell,

where I laid

his body next to mine.

His nipples hardened

and I unraveled,

while in his heart he held me

with a kiss.

The following is an excerpt from page 147 of The Crimson Woman:
The quiet breathing, the subtle looks, the continuance of body, the fluidity of lithe limbs and the propulsion of unrequited love; all were physiological qualities playing out in him, for he thrived as the ultimate for centuries without equal challenge, until he encountered a free-thinking woman. And every woman wanted him, in the very old past before women were permitted a voice, long after women won emancipation, and well before women knew better of him. All women wanted to be devoured and made whole by him.

But not her.

He was unprepared for her ambivalence, for the unbreakable love she held for her husband that fortified her iron will. He truly believed she would die before betraying their love and because of it, he wanted her all the more. To bed her for one night, before hurling himself into the deep well of eternity, before transferring the burden of knowledge and responsibility, he wanted her to want him, to become a possession of his reality of time and future.
The following is an excerpt from page 109 of The Crimson Man:
Magdalene felt him between her legs, crossing them, trying to take her mind off the fact that her panties were soaking wet. This man seated beside her was almost too much, too much for her fantastic imagination. If only he knew what dirty deeds she had conjured up while he spoke.

He wore relaxed fitting pants and a black, crew neck shirt, with white buttons; the first two undone, opening up to his chest; black hairs speckled lightly across. His sandals were well worn and his toenails groomed.

She thought how funny it is that women notice the most unusual aspects of a man.

"I realize it's impolite to ask personal questions about someone I've only just met but they really are the best questions to ask after all," he remarked.

"OK now you've piqued my interested," she replied.

"You're not involved with anyone?"

"Alas I'm an unclaimed treasure," she answered.

He liked her light-hearted humour.
The following is an excerpt from page 30 of Friction:
This man's ardour,

softly nudging behind swaying wild fire,

internally bleeding and burning.

This bird of prey,

pulling at my meat

thorny and red.

My lips coming apart.

Both flesh and wet,

land eroding into rain,

into my age of breeding

coming quickly to me.

This man's prick is the sin I taste,

an epic fissure

this day we make.
The following is an excerpt from page 17 of Vulgar Verse:
No more am I the vision of permanence,

resting on his chest,

poor in spirit,

ill health of flesh.

I lay, and hold onto stolen moments,

fleeting by, this noon of coitus,

we take from other selves,

spent apart.

We lay, quietly,

in a barren room,

no likeness of knowing,

adorning the walls.

We lay, and touch the feeling of instance,

before emotion ends,

then leaves,

through the front door.
The following is an excerpt from page 155 of The Crimson Time:
Magdalene: Even the smell of fruit made my mouth salivate. I had taken a fresh kill in the morning and already my stomach growled. Sir William, at the height of his powers, could drain multiple women in one day. With my newly inherited memories, I brought up one particular memory of Sir William living in a cave, surrounded by dead and drained naked women, bodies strewn everywhere, their necks punctured and faces blue, absent of any life. Sir William had gorged himself until his stomach bloated round. I didn't know why he was forced to hide in a cave. I only knew he had escaped a hoard of angry men with clubs and pitchforks, hunting him down like a werewolf. But despite the death around him, the women offered themselves to him like sacrificial lambs. And one by one, they fell at his feet, worshiping his dark nature. The very thought of such a scene of debauchery made me tingle. I was ready for more blood.