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A lively and youthful new rural romance from an exciting debut Australian author.

They were best friends who were never meant to fall in love – but for one of them, it was already way too late.

Willow ‘Banjo’ Paterson and Tom Forrest were raised on neighbouring cattle stations in the heart of the Kimberley. As young adults, sharing the same life dreams, something came between them that Willow cannot forget. Now ten years have passed since she's even spoken to Tom.

When her father falls ill, Willow is called home to take over the running of the family property, Paterson Downs. Her vision for a sustainable, organic cattle station is proving hard to achieve. She needs Tom’s help, but is it too late, and all too complicated, to make amends?

Tom’s heartfelt, decade-old letters remain unopened and unmentioned between them, and Willow must find the courage to finally read them. Their tattered pages reveal a love story like no other – and one you’ll never forget.

Dear Banjo is a wildly romantic and utterly captivating story about first love and second chances from an exciting new Australian author.

'I'm calling it early - this is one of the best novels of 2017.' AusRom Today

Formats & editions

  • Trade Paperback

    9780143784524

    May 29, 2017

    Michael Joseph (AU Adult)

    400 pages

    RRP $32.99

    Online retailers

    • Abbey's Bookshop
    • Angus & Robertson Bookworld
    • Booktopia
    • Boomerang Books
    • Collins Booksellers
    • Dymocks
    • Books Kinokuniya
    • The Nile
    • QBD
    • Readings
    • Robinsons Bookshop
    Or

    Find your local bookstore at booksellers.org.au

  • EBook

    9780143784531

    May 29, 2017

    Penguin eBooks (AU Adult)

    384 pages

    Online retailers

    • iBooks
    • Amazon Kindle
    • Booktopia
    • eBooks
    • Google Play
    • Kobo
    Or

    Find your local bookstore at booksellers.org.au

Extract

‘Excuse me, Dr Paterson?’

Willow lifted her head and chuckled when she saw the first-year student hovering by her table. ‘Not Doctor.’

He reddened, rubbing a hand through his close-cut hair. ‘Sorry.’

‘No need to apologise – you actually promoted me. I don’t have a PhD, just a masters.’

He scratched his cheek. ‘Er, Miss Paterson . . .’

‘Call me Willow. We’re pretty casual around here.’

‘I was wondering,’ he recommenced, and she had to strain to hear him above the cafeteria clatter. ‘I liked your class but Professor Dale’s lecture was really confusing. Could I ask you a couple of questions about it?’

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