Crimson Line Series
About the Series
The Crimson Line Series is a long‑form fiction project I developed over the course of more than a year. Blending suspense, emotional intensity, and queer representation, the series explores the intersections of power, identity, loyalty, and desire. Written with the same attention to human complexity that informs my journalism, Crimson Line expands my author platform into high‑stakes fiction driven by character depth and narrative tension.
The series follows women navigating political ambition, personal betrayal, and the dangerous pull of forbidden connection. It is a story rooted in emotional truth, crafted for readers who seek bold queer narratives, layered relationships, and dramatic storytelling that refuses to shy away from vulnerability or consequence.
Series Overview
At its core, Crimson Line examines what happens when personal loyalty collides with public responsibility. Through its characters—women in positions of influence, intimacy, and conflict—the series explores themes of:
- Power and moral compromise
- Polyamorous relationships and chosen family
- Queer identity and representation
- Emotional betrayal and reconciliation
- The tension between public image and private desire
The narrative is driven by intense interpersonal dynamics, political stakes, and the emotional fallout of choices made under pressure. Each installment builds on the last, creating a world where every decision carries weight and every relationship has consequences.
Why This Series Matters
This series represents a major milestone in my writing career. It is the first long‑form fiction project I brought from concept to publication, and it reflects my commitment to:
- authentic LGBTQ+ storytelling
- complex female characters
- emotionally resonant suspense
- multi‑genre craft development
As a journalist, I write about real crises, real communities, and real human resilience. Crimson Line allowed me to channel that same emotional truth into fiction—creating a story that is both dramatic and deeply human.
Where to Read the Crimson Line Series
The series is available on Amazon. Readers who enjoy queer suspense, polyamorous dynamics, political intrigue, and emotionally charged storytelling can explore the books here:
Purchase the Crimson Line Series:
Author’s Note
I dedicated over a year to writing, refining, and publishing this series. It represents not only my growth as a fiction writer but also my commitment to expanding representation in genre fiction. The Crimson Line Series stands as a cornerstone of my creative work and an essential part of my author identity.
Exclusive Teaser Scene
This is an exert from my book. It is a lesbian suspense and erotica genre. I did not include any parts that demonstrate the erotica. This exert is dramatic. To explain the details, Aviana “Ava” Reed is my main character. She is running for the senate in this book. She has a polyamorous marriage to four women, Kacey, Katiana, Cassidy and Nadia. There is a woman who donated money to Ava’s campaign, and the tour bus. Her name is Desirae King. She’s a billionaire casino heiress and is in love with Ava. Teagan is the ditzy assistant Ava hired. Daria is Ava’s daughter and Teagan’s girlfriend.
…
The Betrayal Line
By Emily Herr
Exert:
The bus arrived back at the resort just in time for dinner. The reunion was loud and happy. Kacey cried, Cassidy checked Ava for new injuries, and Katiana immediately synced their calendars. Nadia held Ava like she was afraid she’d disappear.
They moved to the covered porch. It was a full house. The wives, the sisters, the kids, and the staff were all eating together to celebrate the end of the second leg.
Ava sat at the head of the table, feeling the tension bleed out of her shoulders. She had done it. She had survived the tour, kept the affair secret, and secured Teagan’s silence.
“The poll numbers are up four points in Nye County,” Katiana announced, reading from her tablet. “The rural strategy is working.”
“It’s the handshake line,” Kacey smiled, passing a bowl of salad. “People just need to see you close up.”
“It was grueling,” Ava sighed, playing the part of the weary warrior. “Just me, McKenzie, and the road. Very lonely.”
Down at the other end of the table, Daria was sitting next to Teagan. They were holding hands under the table. Daria was asking about the trip.
“Was the bus okay?” Daria asked. “I was worried the suspension on the upper deck would be too bouncy on those dirt roads.”
“Oh, it was super bouncy!” Teagan chirped, her voice carrying over the clatter of silverware. “I almost fell out of my bunk twice!”
Daria laughed. “I bet Mama hated that. She gets motion sickness if she tries to read.”
“Actually, she was fine!” Teagan said brightly. “She had help.”
Ava froze. Her fork stopped halfway to her mouth.
“Help?” Daria asked.
“Yeah!” Teagan nodded enthusiastically, grabbing a roll. “Ms. King has really good balance. She didn’t spill a drop of coffee the whole time.”
The silence that fell over the table was instantaneous and absolute.
It started at the head of the table and rippled outward like a shockwave.
Cassidy stopped chewing. Kacey dropped her napkin. Katiana lowered her tablet.
Ava stared at Teagan, her eyes bulging.
“Ms. King?” Daria repeated, confused. “Desirae King? The donor?”
“Uh-huh!” Teagan said, oblivious to the sudden drop in atmospheric pressure. “She was on the bus! She’s super nice. She brought donuts!”
“She was… on the bus?” Cassidy repeated, her voice a low, subterranean rumble that vibrated the table.
Ava stood up. “Teagan!”
“What?” Teagan looked around, confused. “I didn’t tell them about the strategy meeting! Or the noises! I just said she was on the bus!”
“What noises?” Kacey whispered, her face draining of all color.
“You said you were alone,” Katiana stated, her eyes locking onto Ava. “You said you were isolating for our safety. You said it was just you, Riker, and McKenzie.”
“She was an observer!” Ava shouted, panic rising in her throat. “She just… she wanted to see the campaign! I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d react like this!”
“Like this?” Cassidy roared, standing up. “You spent four days in a metal box with the woman who wants to sleep with you? After we told you to stay away from her?”
“And there were noises?” Nadia asked, her voice dangerously calm. “Teagan. What noises?”
“Just… strategy noises!” Teagan squeaked, realizing she had messed up but not understanding how. “Like… yelling? And thumping?”
“Thumping,” Cassidy repeated.
Ava closed her eyes. The “Pinky Swear” had held for exactly three hours. The “Vault” had just been blown wide open.
“It’s not what it sounds like!” Ava pleaded.
“It sounds,” Katiana said, her voice ice cold, “like you lied about your location, your company, and your activities. Again.”
…
The porch was vibrating with the tension of Katiana’s accusation. Ava stood at the head of the table, her hands raised in a defensive posture, sweat beading on her brow. She glared at Teagan, her eyes wide with a silent plea: Shut up. Stop talking.
Teagan saw the glare. She interpreted it not as fear, but as anger. She thought her boss was mad at her for spilling the beans about the bus ride.
Teagan stood up, her face flushing, desperate to prove she had kept the important part of the promise.
“I kept the vault shut, Chefinha!” Teagan insisted, her voice righteous and loud. “I didn’t tell them you had sex!”
The world stopped.
The birds stopped singing. The wind stopped blowing. The clatter of silverware, the hum of the refrigerator, the breathing of twenty people—it all ceased.
Teagan froze. She looked at the faces around the table.
She looked at Daria, whose mouth was open in horror. She looked at Kacey, who looked like she had been shot. She looked at Ava, who had closed her eyes, accepting the bullet.
“Oopsie,” Teagan squeaked, her hand flying to her mouth.
“You…” Kacey whispered, the word barely making it past her lips. She stood up slowly, her hand resting on her baby bump as if to shield the child from the truth. “You had… sex?”
“No!” Ava shouted, opening her eyes. “It wasn’t—”
“On the bench!” Teagan blurted out, panic-vomiting the details now that the dam had broken. “It was on the bench! I walked in! But I left! I didn’t watch!”
“The bench,” Cassidy repeated. Her voice wasn’t a growl anymore. It was dead. It was a flat, terrifying void.
She looked at Ava.
“You slept with her,” Cassidy said. “On the bus. While we were at home. While we were worrying about you. While we were trusting you.”
“It was a mistake!” Ava cried, tears spilling over. “It was the adrenaline! It was the stress! I didn’t mean to!”
“You didn’t mean to?” Nadia asked, her voice trembling. She stood up, knocking her chair over. “You didn’t mean to have sex with the woman we begged you to stay away from? The woman I told you made me uncomfortable?”
Nadia looked at Ava with a betrayal so deep it looked like physical pain.
“I washed the blood off your hands,” Nadia whispered. “I held you while you cried about your past. I got pregnant with your child. And you were fucking her?”
“I stopped!” Ava lied, desperate. “I stopped it!”
“Teagan,” Katiana said. Her voice was robotic, stripped of all humanity. She didn’t look at Ava. She looked at the assistant. “Did they stop?”
Teagan looked at Ava, then at the terrifying, icy blonde woman. She crumbled.
“No,” Teagan whispered, staring at her shoes. “They… they finished. It was… loud.”
Ava covered her face with her hands. It was over. The Alibi, the Strategy, the Pinky Swear—it was all ash.
Cassidy moved.
She didn’t come around the table to hit Ava. She didn’t throw a plate. She walked to the head of the table, standing inches from Ava.
“Get out,” Cassidy said.
Ava looked up. “Cass…”
“Get out,” Cassidy roared, the sound tearing from her throat, raw and agonizing. “Get off the porch! Get out of the house! Get out of my sight!”
Ava felt the instinct to run. It was her oldest habit. When the walls closed in, when the pain got too loud, she ran.
But then she looked at them. She saw Kacey sobbing into Amalia’s shoulder. She saw Nadia turning her back. She saw Katiana staring at the table, her hand gripping a steak knife so hard her knuckles were white.
They were broken. And if she left now, she knew—with a cold, absolute certainty—that she would never be allowed back in.
Ava swallowed hard. She planted her feet on the stone floor. She straightened her spine, summoning the last shreds of the Commander.
“No,” Ava whispered.
Cassidy stared at her, stunned. “What did you say?”
“I said no,” Ava said, her voice shaking but loud. “I’m not leaving. This is my house. You are my wives.”
She gripped the back of her chair, anchoring herself.
“I messed up. I did a terrible thing. But I am not running away this time. I am staying right here.”
But Ava didn’t move. She planted her feet on the stone of the porch, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. The shame was there, burning her skin, but beneath it was the stubborn, defensive pride of the Commander who refused to be court-martialed in front of her troops.
“No,” Ava said, her voice shaking but loud. “I’m not leaving. This is my house.”
“You forfeited the house when you fucked the donor!” Cassidy roared, taking a step toward her.
“I didn’t plan it!” Ava shouted back, desperate to make them understand the mechanics of her failure. “I was trying not to have sex with her, okay? It was off the table!”
She gestured wildly with her hands, as if physically pushing away the accusation.
“I went there to manage her! I went there to keep the campaign safe! Sex was off the table. It was a line I drew!”
She looked at Kacey, begging for the anchor to understand the drift.
“It was off the table,” Ava whispered, her voice cracking. “Until it wasn’t.”
“Until it wasn’t?” Katiana repeated, her voice dripping with cold, analytical disbelief. “That is not a justification, Ava. That is a lack of discipline. You are describing a lack of object permanence regarding your marriage vows.”
“I’m describing a moment of weakness!” Ava cried. “We just… we spent breakfast together. Every morning. That’s all it was supposed to be.”
She looked down, her next words meant to be an explanation, but landing like a knife in Kacey’s heart.
“She was nice to talk to,” Ava murmured. “She listened. She didn’t ask me about the bomb. She didn’t ask me about the schedule. She just… she let me be quiet. She was nice.”
Kacey let out a sound that was half-sob, half-laugh. It was a terrible, broken noise.
“Nice to talk to?” Kacey whispered. “You cheated on us… you risked everything… because she was nice to talk to?”
Kacey stood up, knocking her chair back.
“We talk to you, Ava! We listen to you! We hold you when you cry about your father! We hold you when you have seizures! And you… you go to her for ‘nice’?”
“It was different!” Ava insisted, digging the hole deeper. “It was easy! It wasn’t heavy like it is here!”
“Love is heavy!” Cassidy shouted. “Marriage is heavy! That’s the point! You carry it! You don’t drop it the second a blonde buys you a donut!”
Nadia stepped forward. She looked at Ava with eyes that were dry and hard.
“You told me,” Nadia said quietly, “that you killed a man to protect me. You told me I was your ‘one true love.’ And then you went and slept with a woman because she was ‘nice to talk to’?”
Nadia shook her head, the disappointment radiating off her in waves.
“That isn’t love, Ava. That’s boredom. You got bored of us. You got bored of being good.”
“I wasn’t bored!” Ava yelled, tears streaming down her face again. “I was lonely! On the bus! And she was there!”
“And you let her be there,” Cassidy said, her voice dropping to a deadly calm. “You invited her. You hid her. You fucked her.”
Cassidy pointed to the gate again.
“The argument is over, Ava. You want ‘nice’? Go find her. Go talk to her. But you are done talking to us tonight.”
Ava looked at them. She looked at the wall of hurt she had built brick by brick. She realized, with a sickening jolt, that explaining it hadn’t fixed it. It had only proved that she knew exactly what she was doing.
She swallowed hard. The fight went out of her legs.
“Fine,” Ava whispered. “Fine.”
She reached into the inside pocket of her blazer.
“I’ll leave,” she said, her voice hollow. “I’ll call her to come get me.”
She pulled out a sleek, black, nondescript smartphone.
It wasn’t her primary phone. It wasn’t the one with the cracked screen protector she always used.
Cassidy froze. Her eyes locked onto the device in Ava’s hand.
“What is that?” Cassidy asked, her voice sharp.
“My phone,” Ava mumbled, thumbing the screen to unlock it.
“No,” Cassidy stepped closer, her anger spiking into something sharper. “That isn’t your phone. Your phone has a pink case. That is a burner.”
The realization hit Katiana. Her eyes widened.
“The code,” Katiana whispered. “The day you wouldn’t let me sync the calendar. You weren’t locking us out of your phone… you were hiding the fact that you had another one.”
“Why?” Cassidy roared, snatching the black phone out of Ava’s hand before she could dial. “Why do you have a second phone, Ava? To sext her? To coordinate the affair?”
“To control her!” Ava cried, reaching for it. “Give it back, Cass! I need to call her!”
“You aren’t calling anyone until you tell me why you bought this!” Cassidy shouted, holding the phone out of reach.
“She asked for… she asked for something. A payment. For the bus,” Ava sobbed, collapsing back into her chair. “I bought the phone to send it to her safely!”
“A payment?” Nadia asked, her voice cold. “She paid for the bus. What did you owe her?”
Ava looked up at them, her face streaked with tears, the full extent of the deception finally spilling out.
“She wanted a picture,” Ava confessed. “She said… she said if I really wanted to thank her, I should send her a picture. In my lingerie.”
Kacey let out a strangled sound.
“And you did it?” Cassidy growled, staring at the black device in her hand.
“I sent her one,” Ava admitted. “In the black lace. The set you like. I sent it to her.”
“You sent a nude to a billionaire stalker?” Katiana asked, her voice rising in disbelief. “That is blackmail material, Ava!”
“No!” Ava insisted. “Because she sent one back! Look at the gallery! Look!”
Cassidy unlocked the phone—there was no passcode on the burner. She opened the gallery.
There was the photo of Desirae King. Pink lace. Soft curves. Vulnerable.
“See?” Ava pleaded, her logic frantic and broken. “She sent me one. Collateral. Mutually Assured Destruction. I thought… I thought if we both held a grenade, neither of us could pull the pin. I thought it made us safe!”
She looked at them, begging them to understand.
“You weren’t cleaning it up,” Cassidy growled. “You were moving the evidence to a secure line.”
She looked at them, begging them to understand.
“I didn’t plan to sleep with her! I did this to stop her from escalating! I thought if I gave her the photo… and the breakfasts… she would be satisfied. She would be quiet. And I could win the election and keep you safe.”
Cassidy lowered the phone. She looked at the photo of Desirae. Then she looked at Ava.
“You thought fucking her was a safety measure?” Cassidy whispered, her face pale with disgust. “You bought a burner phone to trade nudes, and you told yourself it was for us?”
Ava stared at them. She heard how it sounded. She saw the absolute devastation on their faces. The logic of the “shield” crumbled, leaving only the ugly truth exposed.
Ava slumped, the fight draining out of her.
“Yes,” Ava whispered, her voice dead. “Yes, okay. It became an affair.”
For a long moment, there was no sound. No screaming. Just the ragged breathing of a family watching their foundation crack.
“Why?” Kacey whispered, the word tearing out of her throat. She looked at Ava as if she were a stranger. “We give you everything. We love you. Why?”
Ava slumped in her chair; the burner phone still clutched in her hand. The fight was gone, replaced by a raw, bleeding honesty.
“Because I liked the thrill,” Ava confessed, her voice hollow.
She looked up at Cassidy. “I missed the rush, Cass. The danger. It felt… it felt like being on a mission again. The sneaking out. The secrets. The risk of getting caught. It got addicting.”
She rubbed her chest, trying to explain the chemical pull of the betrayal.
“It wasn’t just the sex,” Ava said. “She was… she was nice. She took care of me. We had breakfasts. She gave me massages. She listened to me talk about the campaign without asking me to fix anything. She just… she made it easy.”
“Easy,” Katiana repeated, her voice trembling. “You traded our marriage for easy?”
“She never asked me to leave you,” Ava insisted, as if that made it better. “She never once asked me to divorce you. She knew her place. She just wanted… me. For a few hours.”
She looked at the table, the shame finally overwhelming her defense mechanisms.
“And yes,” Ava whispered. “I asked you to stay home this week to spend time with her.”
Cassidy closed her eyes, a look of profound pain crossing her face. “You benched us. You told us we were tired. You told us it was for our safety… but you were just clearing the deck.”
“I didn’t plan to sleep with her,” Ava cried, tears streaming down her face again. “Honestly. I didn’t. The first night on the bus… she tried to get into my pants. She tried to touch me. And I said no. I stopped her.”
She swallowed hard.
“But the second night… I didn’t stop her. I let her touch me. I let her taste me.”
She looked at them, confessing the full timeline.
“And the third night. And the fourth. It was… it was exciting. And new. And dangerous. And I just… I let it happen.”
Ava dropped her head into her hands, her body shaking.
“I’m a fool,” she sobbed. “I’m a fucking fool.”
The wives stood there, listening to the autopsy of their trust. Ava hadn’t just stumbled; she had run toward the cliff because she liked the way the wind felt on her face.
Nadia looked at her, her voice cold and distant.
“You didn’t do it because you’re a fool, Ava,” Nadia stated. “You did it because you wanted to.”
Ava sat there, her hands trembling on the table. She looked at Kacey, who was weeping silently. She looked at Cassidy, who was staring at her with a look of absolute betrayal. She looked at Katiana and Nadia, who looked cold and distant.
She realized, with a terrifying clarity, that she couldn’t fix this. Not with an apology. Not with a promise. She was the villain in this room.
And villains run.
Ava sniffled. She wiped her face with her sleeve. The sobbing stopped abruptly, replaced by a strange, detached calm.
“Okay,” Ava whispered.
She picked up the burner phone.
“Ava, put that down,” Cassidy warned, her voice low. “Don’t you dare.”
Ava didn’t listen. She unlocked the screen. She hit speed dial.
She put the phone to her ear. The line rang once.
“Hey, Pookie,” Ava said, her voice thick with tears but steady.
The porch went dead silent. Kacey’s jaw dropped. Pookie?
“Yeah,” Ava said into the phone, staring at the table. “It happened. They know.”
She listened for a second, nodding.
“Can you come get me?” Ava asked. “I… I can’t stay here. I need a ride.”
She paused.
“Okay. The back gate. I’ll be there in five minutes.”
Ava closed her eyes, leaning into the phone as if it were a touch.
“I miss you too,” Ava whispered. “I can’t wait to see you.”
She hung up.
She stood up. She didn’t look at her wives. She couldn’t. If she looked at them, she would fall apart, and she needed to walk.
“I’m leaving,” Ava stated to the empty air.
She turned and walked off the porch, her steps heavy but determined, heading for the back of the resort where the service road met the desert.
Behind her, the silence shattered.
“Did she…” Kacey choked out, looking at Cassidy with wide, horrified eyes. “Did she just call the billionaire ‘Pookie’ and tell her she missed her?”
“She called for a pickup,” Katiana said, her voice shaking. “She is extracting herself. She is running to the asset.”
“She’s choosing her,” Nadia said, her voice hard. “Right in front of us. She’s choosing the affair.”
Cassidy stood up, kicking her chair back so hard it fell over.
“Over my dead body.”
Support Piece (Poetry Collection)
(Poems Are Not in the Published Book)
…
Title: Five Doors Closing
A cycle of poems from the wives of Aviana Reed
Written by Emily Herr
KACEY
The Softest Hurt
I felt it first in the quiet, the way your fork stopped mid‑air, the way Teagan’s voice cracked open the evening like a dropped plate.
I touched my stomach, as if the child inside me could feel the tremor of your lie— as if she needed shielding from the truth you handed us like a live wire.
You said she was “nice to talk to.”
I replay that line the way some women replay gunshots.
We talk to you. We listen. We hold you when your past claws at your ribs.
But you wanted easy. And I was heavy— love is heavy— and you set me down like luggage you didn’t want to carry on the bus.
I cried into my sister’s shoulder because I realized you didn’t trip into betrayal. You walked.
And you didn’t look back to see if I was following.
CASSIDY
The Roar That Broke the Porch
I didn’t throw a plate. I didn’t break the table. I didn’t even touch you.
I just stood. And the world stood with me.
You lied with the ease of someone who has practiced slipping out of handcuffs.
“It was off the table,” you said, as if vows were furniture you could rearrange when the billionaire smiled.
I saw the burner phone and felt something ancient crack down my spine— the kind of break that doesn’t heal straight.
You called her Pookie. You asked her for extraction like she was your commanding officer and we were civilians you could abandon.
I told you to get out. You refused.
But when you dialed her, you left anyway.
And I learned that betrayal doesn’t always sound like a slammed door.
Sometimes it sounds like a woman you love saying “I miss you too” to someone else.
KATIANA
Object Permanence
I am the one who tracks your schedule, your polls, your donors, your threats. I am the one who knows where you are supposed to be at any given hour.
But you bought a second phone. A shadow device. A hole in the map where your loyalty went to hide.
You told me you were isolating for our safety.
You were isolating for hers.
When Teagan said “thumping,” I felt the porch tilt— not from shock, but from confirmation.
You said you stopped. You didn’t.
You said it was strategy. It wasn’t.
You said it was protection. It was indulgence.
You described a lack of discipline like it was a weather report.
And I realized you don’t forget your vows. You misplace them.
And you only notice when someone else picks them up.
NADIA
The Weight I Carried
I washed blood off your hands. I held you through nightmares that weren’t mine to witness. I let you plant a child inside me because you said I was your one true love.
And then you slept with her.
You didn’t stumble. You didn’t slip. You didn’t get tricked.
You wanted to.
You wanted the danger, the thrill, the rush of being someone who could be caught.
You traded our safety for adrenaline. You traded our intimacy for novelty. You traded our trust for breakfast conversations that didn’t ask you to be brave.
I looked at you and saw a stranger wearing my wife’s face.
And the worst part— the part that still burns— is that you didn’t run because you were scared.
You ran because you missed her.
AMALIA
The Porch After the Storm
I held your wife while she broke open.
I felt her shaking like a bridge under too much weight.
You didn’t see her. You didn’t look. You were too busy calling the woman who made you forget the people who built your life.
I watched Kacey try to breathe through betrayal, and I realized that sometimes the strongest person in the room isn’t the one shouting.
It’s the one who stays even when staying hurts.
Emily Herr 