I’ve promised it and it will be coming in the first quarter of 2017. An epilogue for Oxford Shadows, the second and final book (for now) in the Oxford Saga. It will be availbale for FREE on this website and the book will be amended on all selling platforms. I believe you should get an automatic update.
If you haven’t read it yet, here is the little nugget on this New Adult paranormal romance –
Still recovering from her last tango with the afterlife, Louisiana-born Madison LeBon struggles not only with her life as an Oxford postgrad but also with her budding love for Rupert Vance, aristocrat extraordinaire. One thing is certain, though: she won’t run away from her powers anymore. From now on she’ll face the music …
When a sixteenth-century ghost makes an appearance during a classical concert Madison attends and threatens her boyfriend’s family, she sets out to explore the dark mysteries of the Tudors, even if that means confronting their most royal and homicidal character.
Her plans take an unexpected turn when her voodoo heritage catches up with her. With horror, she understands what her fate was always meant to be.
The question now is: Can Rupert be part of it?
~ OXFORD SHADOWS, copyright 2013 Marion Croslydon ~
Madison stared at the man, her eyes glued to the blood smeared across his face. His lips mouthed words that the music of the orchestra rendered silent. Dread wrapped a heavy blanket around her heart and numbed her brain. Her fingers dug into her thighs. She forced herself to swallow, only for her mouth to turn bone dry.
He wasn’t real.
Rupert, by her side, hadn’t reacted to the apparition. His stepmother, Camilla, over whom the bloodied man hovered, didn’t even twitch at his proximity.
Camilla sat beside Rupert’s father Hugo, opposite Madison and Rupert, on the other side of the chancel. Camilla paid attention only to the musicians and singers who performed in front of the High Altar. She caressed the curve of her swollen
belly, pregnancy giving her a contented glow.
The melody–a Renaissance ballad–had faded away. She couldn’t distinguish the lute from the harp or the violin. They meshed into a distant noise. She registered only the details of the man’s ancient clothing. A reddish hat with two golden buttons topped hair that he wore chin length. A jeweled collar of roses crowned his purple overcoat, trimmed with dark fur.
To break the spell the vision had cast, Madison shifted her gaze upwards to the ceiling from which lantern-shaped pendants appeared to hang in midair. Ribs and stone met at the center of the vault to form pointed stars, a tease of heaven for the faithful.
Rupert’s fingers were intertwined with hers. The warm contact gave her strength. Madison turned her face and studied his profile. Her heartbeat stalled, then restarted. Rupert Vance was her boyfriend, confidant, and unofficial bodyguard.
Suddenly darkness collapsed around her. Shapes and forms blurred, although the ballad kept resonating through Christ Church
Cathedral. A chilled rush of air brushed over her face, and the short hair on the nape of her neck rose in apprehension. Candlelight flickered instead of the lamps that had illuminated the room seconds earlier.
And then, silence.
Someone had pressed the mute button. Madison was the only audience for his show. He shook his head. Was it in anger or frustration? Madison didn’t know. He leaned forward, his head now above Camilla’s shoulder. He stared at her from
the corner of his eyes. His gaze slowly moved across the chancel, from the pregnant woman to Madison.
Air was trapped in Madison’s lungs. She let out a lungful of oxygen. Fear played havoc with her breathing.
The man opened his mouth and started talking. His words came like the delayed echo of thunder across a summer sky. “The girl will die before she is born. So will her mother.”
The threat punched Madison in the stomach. She bent under the shock and let out a moan. A woman sitting in front of her threw a frown back at her. Rupert’s hold on her hand tightened. Her eyes shut, she blocked out the world around her, even him. She had to. Survival mode. When her eyelids lifted again, she checked the spot where the ghost had been.
He was gone.
Camilla wasn’t her friend, but she didn’t deserve to die at the hands of a homicidal ghost. Nor did her unborn daughter: Rupert’s
sister. Rupert’s blood.
Buy here: http://ow.ly/pCch307ODd1