He was home | Read Chapter One: Part 1 of Forest Girl #ComingSoon #Excerpt #AAromance

The countdown continues: 4 Weeks to release day. Are you getting as excited as I am? You're here, so I'm going to take that as a yes!

Thanks to all who left me a comment last week. I hope you enjoy this week's excerpt even more. If you missed last week's post, read it here.

Here's the beginning of Chapter one where we meet the hero, Michael Badu.

Genre: Multicultural Romance, Africa

Length: Full-length novel

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Esi Afriyie has been in love with Michael Yaw Badu since childhood. When he receives a scholarship to study in America, all hope seems lost ... until he returns to Ghana ten years later. An arranged marriage contracted by their families makes her dreams come true, but does the reality of being Mrs. Michael Badu live up to the fantasy?

Michael may have married Esi, but he is in love with someone else—Forest Girl, a mystery woman he encountered just once in the forest. His heart belongs to her, and he doesn't need his beautiful wife awakening his carnal desires. He is even willing to sacrifice his marriage for another encounter with Forest Girl.

Reality is not what either Esi or Michael imagined. Esi is disillusioned; Michael feels trapped.

Will Michael give in and allow his heart to discover a love that was always meant to be, before it's too late?

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(more outlets coming soon)

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(PS. written in UK English)

   Michael Yaw Badu took a deep breath, hoping to curb his restlessness as the Jeep entered the village of Ebinom, his hometown. Staring outside the window, though, he couldn’t help the thread of excitement rippling up his spine. It had been ten years since he’d left to go to college in America, and not one day had gone by that he hadn’t missed his home or his family. He couldn’t wait to see his mother, whose love had shaped him into the man he’d become.

A group of men gathered under the shade of a mango tree caught his attention. The sight thrust him into a memory of a hot, sunny Saturday just like this one; the kind that made people want to stretch out in the shade and have long siestas, and when even animals stayed in their pens, eating and sleeping.

As a boy of ten, house chores had been the least of his likes, so he’d snuck out of the house in search of his father. He’d found Opanyin Badu under the shed of an old man who brewed some of the best akpԑtԑshie, the locally distilled spirit brewed from palm wine.

Knowing his father would disapprove of him being in such a place, Michael had hidden behind a tree listening to their conversation.

“If either of my wives ever did anything like that,” one of them said, “I would discipline her, and she would know who is boss. Luckily, they already know who rules the house.”

His father’s laugh drifted over. “My friend, look. You may sit here trying to prove to us that you are a tough man, but I tell you, our women are not second-class to us.”

“I didn’t know you were afraid of your wife,” the first man said as the others egged him on.

“Let me tell you one thing. I’m not afraid of my wife.” He took a swig of his drink. “I respect her.”

    The others burst out laughing as though he’d gone out of his mind.

“Listen,” he went on after the noise had subsided. “Have you ever seen Akyaa misbehave in public before?”

Reluctantly, they admitted they hadn’t, and his father concluded triumphantly, “I think of her and treat her with the same respect I would give a man.”

Dead silence followed his statement. It lasted only a moment until one of the others, who was quite drunk by now, fell into a convulsive laughter. “If you don’t fear your wife, why did you never marry another woman?”

The others joined in the laughter, and thus went their discussion. That was the man his father had been, and he’d instilled the same mutual respect for women in his sons.

He refocused his attention as his childhood home came into view. Some children played football in the street, reminding him of days when he and his friends used to do the same. A smile came to his lips as a wave of nostalgia enveloped him.

The driver sounded the horn, causing the children to scamper out of the way, abandoning their ball behind. Most people in the vicinity paused in their actions, watching the scene unfolding as if expecting some government representative.

“Right here,” he instructed the driver.

The Jeep came to a smooth halt in front of the Badu house, leaving behind it a thick field of rising dust. Michael opened the door and stepped out. He slipped on his sunglasses as he cast a broad gaze around.

An almost terrifying scream tore right through the dust, causing him to rear back. Then he noticed where the scream came from as his sister ran towards him.

“Yaw nie oo, Yaw nie!” she screamed, announcing his arrival.

“Serwaa,” he said.

Then she was in his arms. Her shrieks had garnered attention, and by the time he released her, a crowd had begun forming around them, some merely watching while others also shouted joyously as they pushed forward to hug him and help carry his luggage. Soon, the shouting became singing.

He watched as the mob took shape around him, singing and dancing to welcome him home; tugging at his clothes from all direction as if hoping some of the foreign air he’d breathed would rub off on them. Fascinated and humbled by their reception, he realised how much he had missed his hometown.

It had been such a long time since he had seen this many people jubilating with a kind of unity that could move mountains.

As he entered the compound of his father’s house, the noise from the crowd seemed to diminish. He raised his gaze and saw his mother emerge from the house. Everything in him stilled, the sounds of singing fading to the rear. She looked much older and leant towards her right where she held a walking stick. Her hair was black, cut and dyed in the royal densinkran fashion he had always known her to wear.

Maame. The woman who’d loved him with all her heart, who hadn’t stopped him from becoming all he could be, even when it had meant letting him go for a while; the woman to whom he owed his very breath. A sense of peace settled upon him as their eyes met. He was home.

“Me piesie, Yaw,” she said in her gentle voice.

He released a breath, and his heart expanded with love.

“Yes, Maame, it’s me, your first born,” he responded and embraced her.

   Finally, when the crowd had dispersed and his luggage had been taken into his room, he dismissed the driver who needed to return to Accra. Later, he found himself seated in the sitting room of his father’s house where, as custom demanded, his mother formally welcomed him home and asked about his journey.

Did you enjoy this excerpt? Please, leave me a comment, and don't forget to come back next week for the continuation. (Read: Chapter 1: part 2)

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