Book Title: The Red Dragon of Oxford
Author and Publisher: Joy Lynn Fielding
Cover Artist: Miblart
Release Date: January 15, 2024
Genre: M/M Paranormal Romance
Tropes: Fish out of water, mutual pining, shifters
Themes: Self-acceptance, empowerment
Length: 66,000 words
Heat Rating: 4 flames
It is a standalone story (the first in a new series) and does not end on a cliffhanger.
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Dragons aren’t real. Or so I used to think.
Oxford isn’t exactly what I’d imagined. Sure, the colleges are romantic, and everyone is brilliant enough to trigger my impostor syndrome. I expected that.
The dragon, however, was a big surprise.
I saw him on my first day. The beautiful beast spoke to me, then disappeared. I’ve been looking for him ever since.
But when I’m not on a wild dragon chase, I spend my time in the library. I’d like to think I’m only there to study, but who am I kidding?
I’m there for him.
Rufus Mortimer is the world’s hottest librarian. He’s strict, enigmatic, and sexy. He makes me feel things I’ve never felt before.
But he has a secret. One that could destroy everything.
So now, all I have to do is find a dragon, earn my doctorate, and try to not to let my new romance burn my life to the ground. Easy, right?
The Red Dragon of Oxford, book 1 in the Wings Over Albion series, is a sweet and spicy paranormal m/m romance with a guaranteed happily ever after.
“You can’t take those.” The voice was deep, male, and came from very close behind me.
I spun around, heart hammering. The guy standing there was big--broad-shouldered, and muscular as if he worked out. His blue shirt pulled slightly over his chest, reinforcing his build. Rich brown hair fell past his shoulders, and his eyes were velvety brown in a face that left me breathless. His jaw was defined, his nose straight with slightly flared nostrils, and the firm line of disapproval his lips were pressed into failed to hide their sensuality. He belonged in Hollywood, not an Oxford library.
He was so close to me that it was intimidating. Moving back a few steps gave me the opportunity to take in allof him, and he was well worth it. The softest-looking faded jeans I’d ever seen outlined thick muscled thighs that had come straight out of my dreams. Callum was cute. This guy, though. This guy had me wanting to go to my knees for him. I was practically drooling.
Unfortunately, he was glaring at me and showed no sign of bending me over the nearest table and having his way with me.
I wrenched my mind back to the fact he’d said something to me. “Sorry, what?”
“You can’t take those books.”
“I’m a research student.” I tore my eyes away from his face long enough to thrust my library card at him. “I was told I could take up to twenty books out at once.”
“Well, you can’t.”
“It says so in the library rules. I live in college, so I wouldn’t have far to come if I got an alert saying someone else wanted them.”
“I don’t care. That’s too many books to take out of here.”
“Okay.” The intensity in him was something else, and I backed down. “How many am I allowed to take?”
He glanced over them. “Four,” he said, and it sounded reluctant.
My face must have shown my incredulity because he pointed out, “You can only read one at a time.”
Anger stirred in me. These weren’t novels, to be read one after another. They needed to be compared and cross-referenced as they were read. It was why I’d applied to Mortimer in the first place—the college’s collection of scarcely remembered German theologians was unrivalled and precisely what I needed for my dissertation.
“Sorry, who are you?” It finally occurred to me to ask. If he was just another research student throwing his weight around with the newbies, I’d tell him where to go. Surely he couldn’t be a tutor because he was only about thirty.
Holy crap, and I’d tried to argue the rules with him. “Good to meet you,” I said weakly and tried to smile at him. “I’m Mark Stevens.”
He nodded and folded his arms. His shirt’s valiant attempt to cope with his movement resulted in acres of silky material clinging to his muscles. I was staring again.
“Sorry, I don’t know your name,” I said when it was clear he wasn’t going to speak. He was still watching me as if to check I only took four books.
“Like the college!” It was a stupid thing to say, but it was better than telling him I wanted to lick him.
He looked unimpressed. “Choose your four books. I’ll replace the others.”
The guy was kind of a prick, though I wasn’t sure what he could have said to my comment.
Once I'd found the four texts I most wanted, he gathered the remaining books into his arms. “Don’t forget to scan them,” he said as he moved away. “And don’t keep them long. They belong here.”
Until he said that, it hadn’t dawned on me that there was a way to keep access to all twenty books. And so many more. “I could have them all out on my desk if I stayed in here?”
The way he said that nagged at me. It reminded me of something, but I didn’t know what. “In that case, please don’t shelve them,” I said. “I’m going to get my stuff from my room and work here.”
“Okay,” he said, but he didn’t put them down. He watched me leave, holding the books close, cradling them like they were his babies.
About the Author
Joy Lynn Fielding lives in a small English market town, where she indulges her passions for vintage aircraft, horse riding and gardening (though not all at the same time).
Joy tends to wax lyrical about the fascinating facts she discovers during her research for books. Thankfully, she has a very patient Labrador who has a gift for looking interested in what she’s saying while he waits for the food to arrive.
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