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.
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