Hi Everybody!
Apologies for my radio silence. I know some authors find something smart and informative to say every day. I’m not one of them unfortunately 
I’m deep in my writing cave, trying to get as many words on the page for my new contemporary romance. It’s a brand new adventure since it’s… contemporary (no ghost, no voodoo), only characters arcs I’m trying to make amazing! Plus it’s also told in the first person. The release is scheduled for mid-July 2013, but the ARCs should be available mid-May.
People have asked me why there’s so much time to wait until Oxford Shadows’ release in May. Well, first and foremost, the ARCs will be available in March. So if you’re a blogger or a book reviewer, you just need to send me a request. I’ll be happy to oblige. But I’m trying to make each book the best I can. That means intense and professional copyediting and development editing. Those things take time…
Next week is a big week since the new cover for Oxford Whispers will be released on December 6th. To celebrate, I’ll give away Oxford Whispers for free on two days prior to the event: December 4th and December 5th. So watch out!
Also, I’m preparing two giveaways. One on Goodreads in December and one on my website. There’ll be some signed copies of course but also other delicacies. Again watch out! I’ll post the link and give a shout on twitter and facebook.
Lots and lots of love to you all,
We don’t celebrate Thanksgiving here in the UK… and that’s a shame! But I thought, with this very autumny, foggy, cold weather AND a few days away from work, you could enjoy a cozy, romantic, sexy read.
That’s why I’ve made Oxford Whispers available for free only today, Wednesday 21st November.
Hope you’ll enjoy it
Hugs,
Last week, I shared Madison and Rupert’s first kiss. Now is another first time, at least the beginning of it…
“Do you like Sinatra?”
“Yes.”
Her brain struggled to come up with anything more elaborate, while he flicked through a lacquered box and extracted an old-fashioned record. Fascinated, she watched him set the disk on a gramophone, and the needle descend onto the revolving plate. The room filled with the smooth tones of the 1950s crooner. He sang about Witchcraft. How ironic.
She took the hand Rupert had extended and focused on keeping her feet from kicking each other. But he was a smooth dancer, and she forgot about choreography, her body swaying against his.
“Sorry, I’m not very modern. My grandfather, Charles Vance, he’s the one who was fascinated with the family’s history. He donated his vinyl collection to me.”
“I like it better than standard Cajun wedding bands, French accordions, violins, steel guitars. Altogether, they suck.”
When they laughed, her breasts brushed against his chest. His hand followed the curve of her back, and her head tilted backward.
He kissed her. His tongue touched her lips, opened them. Her breast tightened against the material of the corset. They begged for a touch. Sparks of desire ignited her senses from the pit of her stomach to her fingertips.
But Rupert held off. He stepped away, the space between them now a void Madison could have fallen into.
“Have I done anything wrong?” Dizziness threatened to make her lose her balance.
Grabbing her hands in his, Rupert took them to his lips for a light kiss. “I don’t want to push too far.”
Too far … Pent-up yearning had rendered her insane for the last three weeks.
“I want it to be right. I’ve been waiting for this my whole life.” Rupert kept his eyes down.
She wanted to scream: I’m the virgin here. At freaking twenty-two.
Staring at Rupert, his arms dangling at his sides, Madison understood tonight wasn’t about her and her need for fulfillment. Tonight was about sharing and giving, not taking by force—like that night on the bayou when Tarquin had attacked her.
Madison was ready. She yielded, voluntary and out of love.
She snuggled her way back into his arms, where she belonged. “I’ve waited a long time too, and I’m glad I did. I want it to be you.”
So now I have a date: december 6th, 2012!
Claudia at Phat Puppy Art created it and I’m very happy with it
Julie at ATOMR (who is simply awesome) is organizing the event. Check her post: http://wp.me/p20ttU-SM
… and because it will be December… I’m thinking of having a “X-mas spirit” giveaway to celebrate. Keep listening… I’ll say more soon.
Love, Marion
…. yes, my friends, it’s official… the date EVERYONE was waiting for
Oxford Whispers is out.
If you scroll down, I have a little gift on the right: the TRAILER!
The dates of the blog tour can be found under “Events”. You’ll just have to click the links.
Marion xxx
THE FIRST KISS…
“Yes, please. I’m not used to drinking so much wine. I’m a bit lightheaded.”
Liar.
Rupert held her coat, and while she wrapped the scarf around her neck, he put on his navy blue jacket. Outside the Turf, the cold took her aback but he tucked her under his arm. Madison fought her need to lean against his strength, to indulge in being petite, fragile, next to him.
Once they stood on New College Lane, she tilted her head upward to ask him, “Where do you want to go?”
“To a secret place…” His smile and closeness could have made her melt on the spot, despite the polar temperature. “We’re going to break the law.”
Madison was a law-abiding citizen but she followed him along the cobbled streets, passing the Bodleian Library, to Radcliffe Square, all the time wondering if he really meant it… What was he up to?
The Radcliffe Camera, with its circular shape and Corinthian columns, stood grand in the center. They were alone on the square, alone in the world.
“Rupert, the Camera isn’t a secret place, and I would prefer breaking the law in a less popular location. I’m sure there are CCTV cameras spying on us right now.”
“You Yanks are so conventional.” He seized Madison’s hand and ran to the other side of the square, alongside the Fellows’ Garden of Exeter College. Pippa had taken Madison into her college. They had walked in its tranquil garden and sat on the terrace overlooking Radcliffe Square.
Rupert took a key ring out of his jacket. After selecting one of the smaller keys, he inserted it into the ancient, wooden door in the college wall and opened it.
Her jaw dropped. “It’s not our college, and even if it were, you shouldn’t have those keys. We could get caught.” Madison checked around her with alarm. “Thank God it’s Christmas and damn cold,” she muttered following Rupert up the steep stairs leading to the terrace. For the first time in her life, breaking the rules didn’t feel so bad. She relaxed.
Immaculate snow covered the promontory, untouched now that most college residents had left for the holidays.
“So what about that, Mad Hatter? It helps having friends in high places. I bet none of your nerdy clique could have opened that door.” Rupert stood in front of her, with the square’s street lights shining behind him. He might have been planting his victory flag on top of Mount Everest.
“My friends don’t need to impress anyone.” She sharpened her words.
“I’m sorry.” He moved toward her. “I’m a jerk sometimes. Make that most of the time.” He sounded as if he meant it.
“My friends are good people,” she murmured.
“I know. So are you.”
“That’s a pretty lame comment for a cool guy like you.”
Madison kept her head down. He lifted her chin with his forefinger and looked into her eyes. She had read about those moments when time stopped, when life froze and turned upside-down. Now she was experiencing it.
Despite the cold and the snow, the air she breathed felt warm and sticky. The heat in her lungs soon burned her chest and radiated throughout her body.
She had to get closer to him, to bridge the foot-wide gap separating them. But he leaned toward her, lowering his head one inch at a time. His lips brushed hers, he withdrew, then he bent and kissed her again.
His mouth softened and massaged hers, fireworks exploded in her consciousness, and ignited micro braziers along her spine, extending to the tips of her breasts.
Rupert lifted her like a weightless doll against his chest and deepened their kiss. Her body was crushed against his, she wrapped her fingers at the back of his neck and let his tongue tease hers, savoring his taste. He increased the pressure and changed the angle of his head. The extra friction sent her into an agony of pleasure.
From far, far away, inner voices warned Madison. He already had a girlfriend. He was out of her league. He had even slept with Pippa.
She laid her hand on his cheek and pushed him away. While she struggled to get back on her feet, he squinted, as if extracted from a deep sleep.
“I’m sorry, Maddie. I didn’t want to push myself on you.”
His eyes were clear of any lie, but she stepped back further nevertheless.
“Please don’t go,” Rupert pleaded, and she stopped.
Fleeing was the easiest and safest option.
“I’m scared.”
“I know. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do. We can just talk.”
“It’s December and freezing.”
Rupert held out his hand in invitation. She walked back and put her hand in his. Relief dissipated the unhappiness in his face.
“Let’s sit on the bench. The view is nice,” he added. “I’ll keep you warm.”
Madison sat and relaxed against his body. While holding her in his arms, he started playing the tour guide, taking her on a time trip as they had done at Stratford-Upon-Avon. He told her how the Radcliffe Camera had inspired Tolkien, and how the author had used it as a backdrop for The Lord of the Rings, and then he told her about the novelist and Oxford professor C. S. Lewis and many other stories Oxford had given birth to.
Lulled by Rupert’s voice, she realized her eyelids had closed when he placed a kiss on them.
“Hello, Sleeping Beauty,” he whispered. She straightened up, surprised at feeling so groggy.
“Do you want to go to bed?” Rupert asked, and when she frowned, he added, “It’s not an indecent proposal. I’m not a rogue.”
“You are, Rupert Vance. It’s part of your charm.” She stared at him for a moment. Maybe it was the chardonnay, or the magic of the snowy night, but she had forgotten everything and everyone outside of their warm bubble, “Do you want to go to bed with me?”
Hi Everyone,
Marion Croslydon (ME!) visiting the Pre-Raphaelites exhibition at the Tate Gallery, London
Just thought I’d share a little bit of my life with you. There’s this amazing exhibition at the Tate Britain, one of London’s most famous museum… and this exhibition centers around THE PRE-RAPHAELITES!!! Oxford Whispers was inspired by a pre-raphaelite painting titled The Wounded Cavalier.
So if you’re lucky enoughto travel to London over the enxt few months, please go there. It’s beautiful and so romantic.
Lots of love,
Marion
When Madison and Rupert meet for the first time…
Chapter 2
ON THE OTHER SIDE of Tom Quad, Great Tom, the loudest bell in all Oxford, struck nine o’clock. The sharp November air smelled of woodsmoke, and Madison longed for Louisiana’s heat.
She missed her good old Converse sneakers, jeans and granny pants as she pulled a skimpy piece of material down her legs. No way this was called a dress.
Her eyes were fixed on the imposing facade of Christ Church Hall when she begged, “I’m freezing here. Can we go inside?”
Pippa gestured toward the entrance and strutted inside. Madison had met the girl—and her Irish mane of red hair—on her first day in England, on the train up from London.
For a week now she had given Madison the guilt trip. A graduate at Christ Church College, Madison was Pippa’s ticket to the social event of the Michaelmas term: Christ Church Ball. Pippa’s persistence had paid off and here she was, ready to cause mayhem with the male students.
Madison took a deep breath and followed the bright halo of Pippa’s hair up the sixteenth-century staircase that led to the Great Hall. Oliver, Madison’s dormmate, flanked her. A tuxedo had replaced his skinny jeans. She patted his thin shoulders to inject some confidence into him, but he kept starring at Pippa’s electric-blue dress. Star-struck.
At first, Madison struggled to recognize the grand, silent Dining Hall, although its vaulted ceiling rose to the heavens as usual. Tonight, the room was overcrowded and overheated. Still, it was a better option than being locked in her room obsessing over the morning’s drama and the Puritan in the painting.
“Ollie, could you please get us some drinks?” Pippa’s smile showcased her dimples. “White wine for both of us.”
How to resist the musical lilt of her voice? Ollie couldn’t and headed for the bar. “Jolly good. Beats dancing anytime.”
Pippa turned to Madison. “I’m glad I lent you the dress. The way you look tonight, all the guys will get you a drink. You’ll be the first one to get wasted.”
“I could use a few glasses right now … I feel like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.”
But Pippa’s attention had already shifted toward a potential target for the night. Irish Queen Bee waved at a muscular guy and strutted in his direction. Between chasing able-bodied male victims and college gossiping, there was never a dull moment in Pippa Connelly’s life.
Madison could leave now and let everyone else have a great time, but she didn’t want to sabotage herself again.
Her skin stung. She lifted her head to survey the space in front of her and met the glassy stare of Chris Church’s founder: Henry the Eighth. Hung on the other side of the hall, his portly figure spread over a full-length portrait.
Anne Boleyn, I am not.
Resolve solidified Madison’s stance and squared her shoulders. Tonight, she would face the music. Literally.
At Yale, she’d been too busy studying and juggling jobs to be part of the party scene. But things were looking up now. She was in a master’s program at Oxford University, England. Take that. And in the month since her arrival, she had been pretty lucky, meeting Pippa, then Ollie. Yes, things were definitely looking up.
Thinking of Ollie, Madison gazed at the crowded hall in search of her roommate. He wasn’t at the bar, and she needed a glass in her hand so she would have something to do with herself.
With an old Madonna tune playing in the background, she marched toward the bar.
Please God, keep this dress below my panty line.
Ollie was nowhere to be seen. She ordered a glass of white and ignored the push and pull of the other students around her eager for a drink.
“First time here?” asked a clipped voice behind her at the jammed-up counter.
She turned around. A guy about her age towered over her. She leaned against the bar to support herself as she lifted her gaze from the light blue shirt he wore, to a crisp collar, and followed the line of his neck to the handsome face above. No tuxedo here.
Madison cleared her throat, but only managed a ‘Yes’ that sounded more like a croak.
The smell of his freshly laundered clothes drifted over her. Bergamot or lavender, Madison couldn’t say which, but the fragrance contrasted with the sweat and cheap perfume of the crowd.
He’s hotter than the hinges on the gates of hell.
He chuckled, clearly enjoying her agitation. But his voice was soft when he asked, “American? Where from?”
“Louisiana.” Adonis is chatting me up.
The full-lips-slash-chiseled-cheekbones combo was full-on cliché, but would melt a freakin’ iceberg.
He gave her a rueful smile and she tried turning away, but couldn’t find the necessary space at the crowded bar. Pivoting her head, she strained for a better view of possible avenues of retreat.
“You arrived with Ginger Girl.”
“No idea who you’re talking about … Blondie.” The steel in her voice had chinks in it.
Sparkles lit up in his eyes, and her heart missed a beat. Shivers— chilly then warm—ran down her spine, and back up again. The student bartender shook her elbow and signaled toward a glass on the bar. She held out the exact change, keeping her arm strong, her hand still, but her new friend stopped her midway.
“Allow me. I’m Rupert, by the way.”
“I’ll pay for it,” she answered in a tone that rang fl at. “Mine’s Madison.” No froggy sound this time. Phew.
“Maybe we could go somewhere quieter.” His offer sounded like a naughty invitation, one that said, “I wanna do bad things with you, honey.” Or at least it did to Madison’s wired brain.
“Sorry, I’m spending the evening with my friends,” she forced herself to articulate. God, could she sound more laaaaaaame?
“I see, although I’m not sure your friends will play by your rules. Pippa Connelly doesn’t often leave a party on her own. You shouldn’t be left all by yourself.”
Taking her wine, she finally managed to move out of his way. “Is that the best pick-up line you have?” Yes, more of that. “Something tells me you don’t leave parties on your own, either.” Woo-hoo.
He shrugged and cast his eyes downward. “True.”
“Good luck then. No doubt you’ll find a desperate girl or two tonight.” She flashed him the Scarlett O’Hara smile her mother had taught her. As if the LeBon women had ever been Southern belles.
Madison walked away, her chin up.
For once, she hadn’t screwed up socially. She had even been quite good toward the end of this verbal ping-pong, even if she did say so herself.
She peeked back toward Rupert. His eyes remained glued on her, while he ignored an anorexic blond girl standing at his side. Satisfied, Madison brought the glass to her lips. The wine was almost as sweet as the rum her grandmother drank back home. She spotted a dark corner to savor her social victory in peace.
After three steps, an inner storm struck. As it had done earlier that morning.
The ballroom and the laughing crowd fell away from the foreground, as if she were on a roller coaster.
Release: August, 12th
Amazon US | Amazon UK
Amazon France | Amazon Germany | Barnes & Noble
“Oxford Whispers is a haunting tale about the power of history, heritage and love.” 4.5 stars and IndieReader Approved
“‘Oxford Whispers’ is one of those books which when reading makes me sigh quietly with happiness.” Kirsty at All in One Place
“I liked this book…I really bloody liked it.” Gliterary Girls
“This book has the perfect mix of everything. Mystery, Angst, Suspense, Romance, Paranormal, and straight up STEAMY moments!” YA Vixen
”If you are looking for a book filled with secrets and lies, ghosts and visions, romance and danger, look no further.” Tammy at Books, Bones and Buffy
