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The Crimson Fantasies
If you enjoy reading the urban paranormal genre, brace yourself before you slake your thirst for the unpredictable. Part blood bath and part bubble bath, my Crimson fantasies are filled with humour and horror, suspense and steamy bits. 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 927-year-old biter with a taste for the nubile.

The past, present and future now await you...



Sneak Peeks at Random
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 94 of The Crimson Man:
Magdalene believed if she had lived during the early years of Picasso she would shamelessly have offered her body to him as a model, a lover, a harlot, to share one kiss, a warm embrace, to copulate into late night until sun shattered the silence of naked morning.

Her train of thought was broken by a prominent man behind her who smelled intoxicating. Her nose deceived her. At first, she believed he smelled of cut grass, distinct and oddly alluring. She turned and locked eyes with his thousand-yard stare. He had at least five inches in height on her.

Instantly, she turned away and moved on to Between the Years covering Picasso's surrealistic period, the Graphic Alcove, the Garden of Delights, Mythologies: From the Centaur to the Minotaur. Magdalene was aroused by the images of the Minotaur over powering and ravaging women.

She saw herself in the images.

Samuel was alone. He hadn't anticipated the huge line-up and wished that he had come later in the day when the crowds would thin out. He was determined to see each pencil sketch as closely as possible. His height afforded him with the ability to gaze over the heads of those around. He watched with amusement as one particular, outstanding woman pushed with intensity and determination, moving her body into the crowd, inching closer, until it seemed that her nose would touch the glass. She was lost and enthralled in a five-minute examination of each sketch. Stepping into her, he smelled an unexpected scent he couldn't place his finger on, a subtle, bitter spice that reminded him of frankincense.

Her hair fell past her shoulders. The warm weather of Montreal had frizzed and curled the ends.
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 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.

Catherine lay before him with chocolate on her lips, her gaze focused on him. She wanted what every young lady wanted but was raised to refuse until marriage. She would take him into her deeply and completely, until all logical sense would cease to exist. She wanted nothing more than to be devoured by him, from toe to head, from lips to breast, from bum to...

The following is an excerpt from page 98 of The Crimson Boy:
"Yet another myth, of which they abound...coffins and wood spikes and garlic cloves and coming out only at night, all nonsense, as though being blessed with immortality could be defiled by sunlight, nor do I have to subject myself to sleeping in the cramped quarters of a coffin. I do not sleep one wink, in truth. I meditate, which is as close to slumber as I come.

Myths perpetuated in pop culture are generally wrong, such as the demonstrative symbol dating back to Roman times when emperors executed Christians, criminals or gladiators... a thumb pointed upright in fact meant death, whereas a thumb pointed downward signified a sword being sheathed into the ground but of course the belief has been incorrectly re-used in film. It gives me a laugh... these enduring myths are far older than me," said Sir William.

"You don't sleep at all?" she asked.

"Never," he replied.

"Ever?" she asked again.

"You don't dream then," she surmised.

"Dreams I miss, I must confess. And what of your dreams?" he inquired.

"My dreams have crazy patters. I can't figure them out at all."

"You lose your shoes or purse quite a lot, do you not?" he asked.

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"Instinct," replied Sir William.
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 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 133 of The Crimson Time:
Magdalene: Even the smell of fruit made me 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.

"All we know from his letter," I said to Kevin, "Is that Sir William wants us to visit this particular pub, which will apparently bring us to an extraordinary find, the likes of which have not been known by anyone in all of humanity."

"Fuck!" said Derek, "That sounds fucking ominous," he finished.

Auntie cuffed Derek on the head and he laughed in reaction. "I'm going to take the boot to that rear if you don't clean up that mouth."

"Yeah," mocked Kevin, "What kind of example is your setting for Finn?" he said, intentionally using 'is' instead of 'are'.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" mimicked Finn, excited about his new word.
The following is an excerpt from page 132 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.

Sir William removed two nectarines from the bottom crisper in the refrigerator and cut the fruit into halves, coring the centre pit and placing the fleshy treats onto a small plate. He then poured a glass of fresh water into a better pint glass. He smelled the sift, fragrant aroma as he handed the food and drink to Magdalene.

"Kindly follow me into the dining room," my dear. The crispness of the day's light, exploding through the kitchen window, cast long shadows of Sir William's profile against the beige walls.