The First Time We Met is the first book in the Oxford Blue Series. Released today, it is now available to buy in ebook format. We had a chat with Pippa yesterday (you can read our interview here.) Today, we’re featuring an extract from the book and we can’t wait to read it and find out what happens.
“By the time I get out of the hall, the tears are pouring down my cheeks. I tried, I really did, but apart from Immy and a few others, they’re a bunch of snobs and creeps, Rupert most of all. Why did I think this was a good idea?
Leaning against a wall, I gulp in the cool air and it helps a little, but it’s raining again and my dress is getting soaked. I’ve only been here a day and I already hate the weather and the people. So much for my big dreams of sophisticated independence when I can’t even handle a welcome dinner!
In my head, Todd’s laughing at me, clucking his tongue with his ‘Poor little Lauren, I told you you’d be better off staying home.’
No. I will not give up so easily. The Cusacks don’t quit. My father taught me that and after knowing the mountain he climbed to achieve what he has, I know I can handle a pack of snobby Brits.
I wipe my hand over my eyes and hope my nose isn’t snotty like a little girl’s. I have to get back to my room and calm down but I know I’ll be soaked if I run there in this deluge. A few yards away I spot an archway and some steps leading down to what I think are the college cloisters. Maybe I can shelter in there until this downpour eases.
I run towards them and I skitter under the arch, but my heel slips on the wet steps and I miss my footing. Tumbling through the air, I let out a shriek before my breath is knocked from me as I slam into a solid object.
Curses echo around the cloister, mine and another’s, and by some miracle I’m not splattered over the flagstones yet, thanks to two hands gripping my upper arms like a vice.
‘Christ! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’
I have no breath left after hitting that chest. It’s as solid as the stone walls around me.
‘Getting . . . the hell . . . out of this . . . place.’
My chest still heaves as I look up into two ice-blue eyes glaring down at me under eyebrows bunched together in a frown.
‘Fine, but could you possibly manage to get the hell out of it without breaking other people’s necks?’
My breath leaves my body again as that voice curls round me like silk and resonates in my chest like the deepest note of the piano. His voice alone is enough to turn my mind to mush. My smart, Ivy League educated, supposedly critical mind . . . ‘Get over it. You look fine to me,’ I say, pushing away his arms.
In spite of my words, my pulse rate spikes as I take in the dark brown hair and those quarterback shoulders. I know him. He’s the guy from the Range Rover.”
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