Saturday, April 14, 2018

FOR LOVE OF BANJO by Sarah J. McNeal #TheWildings

For Love of Banjo 
by Sarah J. McNeal

Deceit stands between Banjo Wilding’s love for Maggie O’Leary and his search for the father he never knew.

Banjo Wilding wears a borrowed name and bears the scars and reputation of a lurid past.  To earn the right to ask for Margaret O’Leary’s hand, he must find his father and make something of himself.

Margaret O’Leary has loved Banjo since she was ten years old but standing between her and Banjo is pride, Banjo’s mysterious father and the Great War.

Excerpt: (The Promise)

In one graceful movement, he dismounted the pinto then stepped to the porch where Maggie stood with unrestrained tears that flowed down her cheeks.  Banjo swept her into his arms and kissed her.  The kiss wasn’t his brotherly, friendly peck on the cheek.  He kissed her with a slow burning need and ran his tongue along the groove of her lips then slipped inside.

He tasted of coffee and mint.  Maggie reached up to weave her arms around his neck.  She stepped on her tiptoes to better reach him and taste him.  Her heart raced and heat rushed hungry waves of yearning into places in her body she never knew existed as she responded to his explorations with her own.  If only she could slip into his pocket and follow him wherever he went.  She wanted to become the marrow in his bones, to always be a part of him.

Just when she thought he would take her to her room and make love to her as she had asked, the kiss ended.  Banjo bent his head his rough cheek rasped against hers.  The fragrance of him, a combination of horse, pine and crisp snow, caressed her senses.  He slipped his hand into her hair and gently rubbed the tender skin of her neck where her blood pulsed beneath his thumb.

His mouth so close to her ear she felt the warm moisture of his breath as he spoke his last words.  She would never forget them, not as long as she lived.  Breathless from the kiss, he said, “Don’t forget me.  Write to me every day and I’ll write back.  You are the star in my sky and my compass home.  I’ll come back, if it’s the last thing I do, I will come back.  I swear it.”

Excerpt 2: (The Battle Field in France)

Once the men had climbed out and headed for safety, Banjo climbed the wall and crawled out onto the flat, barren ground between him and the next trench.  A glance behind him gave Banjo the unfettered view of the huge metal vehicle with treads wrapped around wheels that moved it over impossible terrain.  He heard rumors about these new weapons.  Tanks.  Jesus, nothing could stop the thing.  As curiosity overtook him at the wonder of such an invention, Banjo did the unthinkable and stood to get a better look.

Something hot bit into his flesh, first in his chest and then his leg.  The support of his legs seemed to disappear from beneath him and he fell.  Just before the dark void sucked him under, he saw a face, a familiar face.  He couldn’t quite make it out because he couldn’t see through the blood smeared over the lenses of his glasses.  The lips moved but he couldn’t hear what the face said as if the apparition spoke to him through oceans of turbulent water.  Maggie.  Oh Maggie, darlin’, I’m so sorry.  Then everything went black. 

Saturday, April 07, 2018

A Dinosaur in a Strange World

Sometimes I feel like the dinosaurs...
Can't keep up with technology. Don't understand the millennials. Instagram seems too complicated and Twitter, too. Everyone pulls out their cell phones at dinner and I feel kinda like I'm alone or too boring to talk to. I am a walking anachronism. Anybody else feel like this? Maybe I can find a canoe or something and get to rowing.

Monday, April 02, 2018

THE VIOLIN by Sarah J. McNeal #BlogABookScene

THE VIOLIN by Sarah J. McNeal
 Find us on Twitter with the hashtag #blogabookscene and #PrairieRosePub.
Blog-a-Book-Scene is a monthly themed blogging endeavor from a group of authors who love to share s time?

April’s Theme: April showers
See my springtime excerpt from my time travel novel, The Violin

Genevieve Beaumont dreams of a handsome, unknown man almost every night—and has, for most of her lonely life. Inexplicably compelled, she buys a violin—and finds the remnants of  John Douglas’s life and the mystery of his long-ago death revealed within its case.

Intrigued, she makes a decision—one that will change her life forever.

Is there a way to change the past and save this man who haunts her heart?


When she finished eating what she could choke down, Genevieve decided to sit in a rocker on the porch and get hold of her nerves before she went down the road to meet John. The very thought of his name sent a little buzz of excitement to the pit of her stomach. Her skin tingled as if an electric breeze had blown over her.
She chose a rocker near the climbing roses That twisted their fragrant way up the balustrade onto the roof. Once she set her bag down beside the rocker, she sat there for a few moments with her eyes closed.
Genevieve took slow deep breaths of perfumed air and set the rocker into a slow, easy motion. For an actual minute, she was able to get hold of her run away emotions. Just be in the moment. There's nothing happening at this moment. I'm just sitting here, rocking on a porch with the smell of roses in the air.
She relaxed her back against the chair, loosened the muscles at the base of her spine and began to hum. Ah, that’s much better now.
After a few minutes of relaxation, Genevieve realized the time to leave had arrived. She tried to maintain her serenity, but it evaporated completely in the face of her excitement but the fear remained that she might lose her nerve. In an attempt to outrun panic, Genevieve bolted from the chair, picked up the brown paper bag, and almost ran down the stairs. She rushed across the gravel parking lot and down the narrow road that led to another time, and John.

Buy Link:   AMAZON

Sunday, April 01, 2018

Happy Easter! Pleaceful Passover!

I'm sending out some sunshine and love...

Saturday, March 24, 2018

Pop's Microscope #Pop'sMicroscope #ChildhoodMemories

My sister, Mary, asked me to post something about Pop and his microscope, so here goes.

Pop had many hobbies. Among them he liked to study things under the microscope. I must preface here that his microscope was as basic as it gets just above a magnifying glass. A mirror reflecting light from the sun or some other external light source is all his microscope possessed in the way of illumination to view whatever was on the slide. That being said, it certainly made it a mobile device that could be used in the house or out on the picnic table.

He taught my sister and me how to use the microscope and how to prepare slides. He showed us the wonders and diversity of life along with objects of interest from nature like the difference between sugar crystals and salt.
One of the things we did that I found fascinating was to put straw in water in an old mason jar and let it stand for a few days. He placed a drop of the “matured” water on a glass slide and placed a slide cover (a thin square of glass) over the drop without a fixative to spread the drop thin enough to look at what was in it. Inside that single drop of water life had sprung up in the form of tiny creatures. They were busy creatures, too. They moved around eating microscopic bits of algae and such. As days passed we checked on the tiny world of creatures in that jar of straw water and things were rapidly changing in there. New creatures would arrive and older ones disappeared. I could only assume new creatures hunted down the older ones and ate them. After some time had passed watching the evolution of life in the jar, we found that all the creatures were gone having, I imagine, reached the end of life in their world with nothing further to eat.
Our parents gave us each a new microscope one Christmas and I loved that mine had its own little light I could plug in and see things more clearly. After I left home to go to college and then out into the world, Pop found ways to use my microscope and the wooden box it came in to improve his microscope. I don’t know what became of my microscope, but years later, Pop gave me his (in the wooden box mine had come in, but transformed to accommodate his microscope.) I still have some of the slides we made together and some pipettes and other tools left from my days at Career Academy. Pop’s microscope is one of my favorite treasures. It warms my heart to have these things that my parents held dear. And I like sharing these childhood stories with all of you.

Sunday, March 18, 2018

In Memory of Our Shared Birthday #HappyMemories

Pop looking cool like all he needs is a Panama hat

I was born on my father’s birthday. As a kid I didn’t like it much because I didn’t get to have my special day all to myself. There were times when Mom made two cakes just to make me happy. Over time though, I began to like that Pop and I had the same birthday. We began to plan what we wanted for dinner and agreed on the same kind of cake. Pop was more interested in the icing than the cake so that was easy.
Pop at work in the U.S. Weather Bureau at the Airport 

Our driver’s licenses came due on the same year, so we used to plan what “costume” we would wear for out license picture. It became fun doing these and other things on our birthday as the years went by. Mine was the one birthday he never forgot.
Pop and me

Sharing a birthday with a parent is a mighty wonderful thing…until you can’t share it anymore. In honor of Pop I play his favorite bagpipe music and, while I’m listening to it, I am sharing my birthday with him again.

Happy Birthday, Pop!

Saturday, March 17, 2018

Happy Saint Patrick's Day! #KeepItGreen

While we're enjoying all the parades and food celebrating Saint Patrick's Day, let's think about keeping our planet green, not for just today, but all the days and years to come. Mother Earth is our home. So here is a "Green Tree" loaded with all the things we can each do keep our home safe, happy, and thriving for us and all living things that depend on her.

And, in the spirit of Saint Patrick, here is an Irish Blessing for you.

Bless you all!