Thursday, September 24, 2009

Excerpt - Sarah's Brass Token by Ciara Gold

Sarah’s Brass Token

(Nominated for a CAPA award in 2006)

Available from

Matilda from Coffeetime posted a wonderful review. Here's a snippet:
I cannot say enough good things about this book. It just blew me away. Such heartache turned into such promise. The three-dimensional secondary characters tell more than just the story of Sarah and Tabor. I can only hope for a chance to see some of them in their own story. The Brass Token in this story means one thing, but becomes a symbol of something else. You must read this story. It will touch you to the core. Kudos Ms. Gold on a riveting good book!
Striving to make ends meet after her brother is hung for murder, Sarah Jones is determined to make it on her own. After losing everything to war, Tabor Nolan yearns for family and a home. Can two lost souls discover love on a rural farm in Banjo, Texas?


“You low down, conniving, wagon-flattened, slimy snake. You stole my place, didn’t you?”

Tabor should have been upset by her tirade, but instead, he was amused and chuckled. “Wagon-flattened?”

Sarah’s fist flew at his face, catching him just under the left jaw. He stumbled. Reeling from the blow, he straightened slowly, just in time to duck when she threw another punch his way. He caught her about the waist and held her tight. She rewarded him with a kick to the shin. Instead of releasing her, he pulled her closer.

“All right. That’s enough. Granted, you’ve got a right to be a little miffed, but . . . ”

“Miffed? Oh, I’m miffed, all right. I’m raging miffed. That’s what I am, mister.”

For having just recovered from being ill, Sarah put up one heck of a struggle. He had seriously underestimated her strength and her ability to recuperate quickly. She swung again and missed.

He pinned her arms to her sides and backed her against the sideboard. “No more, Sarah. I mean it.”

“Or what? You’ll hit back?”

Where had that idea come from? He would never hit a woman. His mother had ingrained a knightly attitude where women were concerned.

He stroked her back, calming her as he might a green horse. Her chest heaved with her exertions. She stood stiff and unyielding within his arms, yet his passion stirred. She’d been magnificent in her anger. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her, to bury himself in her warmth.

He took a deep breath and fought to control his budding desire. “Okay, you’re spitting mad. I made you an offer the other day. I’d like you to reconsider my proposal.”

“You expect me to trust you, after you went and bought the farm behind my back?”

The rise and fall of her breasts grazed his chest as she struggled to breathe normally. Closing his eyes, he continued to relish the feel of her body close to his. He, too, had difficulty controlling his breathing. Opening his eyes, he gazed at the top of her head.

“Circumstances forced me to act fast without consulting you. I apologize, but I didn’t have much choice. If I hadn’t bought it when I did, Scratch Davis would now be the new owner.”

Her struggles ebbed, and he loosened his hold. He could see she struggled with inner demons. On the one hand, she wanted to strike out at him, not because he bought the farm, but because she needed an easy scapegoat to vent all her frustrations on. On the other hand, she was a woman, and women were naturally curious creatures. Her curiosity was roused. She wanted to know what had made him buy the farm. She finally pulled out of his arms and sat down in one of the wooden slat chairs at the table.

He leaned back against the sideboard and studied her. She had fire, he’d give her that. If she agreed to his proposal, his life would never be the same again.

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