Monday, March 5, 2012

Guest Post: In Love’s Own Time

Call it faith, kismet, fate, karma or just luck, I like to believe there’s some plan for our lives. I want to think we’re born with some basic framework, a few skills or talents to equip us for a particular path in life. Whether we choose it ourselves to work toward karma or a deity lays the groundwork isn’t important. An old proverb I happen to like says we must know where we’ve been before we can see where we’re going. I believe the course of our life is very flexible and we can make decisions which change directions and make differences in what might have been.

The question of a life plan leads to the often heated debate whether writers are born or made. I’ve watched some wild quarrels erupt on internet sites on the topic and my personal views fall in the middle somewhere. But I believe I was born to become a writer, to tell stories and tales, to use words in a way to touch others. I look back over my life thus far and it seems to me, knowing it better than anyone else, each step of the way was another building block toward a writing career. I may have been born with a flair for words, some gift for writing but I’m also the first to admit I’ve worked hard to hone the skill, to improve the talent. Any musician will confess how much practice is required to master an instrument and to maintain a level of expertise. The same applies to writing. No one and I repeat no one is such an outstanding writer he or she doesn’t need practice, to continue learning, and to face editing.

In writing In Love’s Own Time I drew on my own background, growing up in a vintage house in a small city filled with history. My grandparents were my earliest caregivers because both my parents worked and so I spent most of my waking hours in their company until I began school. Their home, although not as old as my own, offered its’ own peek into the past. I listened to their stories and grew up believing the past was almost close enough to touch. It’s no wonder I embraced the idea of time travel or speculated how amazing it would be if it were possible. In Love’s Own Time isn’t my first time travel romance and given my interest in the possibility it could be real I doubt it will be my last.

Although I call it my time travel/contemporary/historical/paranormal/fantasy romance, the novel demonstrates a little of what I’ve speculated. There’s a framework to every life and as we build it, we make choices. I’m no carpenter but I know when building a house, changes can be made as it’s constructed which alter the end result. So can our decisions. In my novel, Lillian makes decisions which impact her life and change it forever. With stubborn will and a strong love for Howard, she manages to shift the course of his life as well.

Curious? You can always read the novel to get all the details!

  • Title: In Love's Own Time
  • Author: Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy
  • Publisher: Rebel Ink Press
  • Length: 71,000 Words
  • Sub-Genres: Contemporary, Historical, Paranormal, Time-Travel
  • Available to purchase at: AmazonAll Romance, & Barnes & Noble

There may be no place like home and nothing like love…..when history teacher Lillian Dorsey inherits a
three story Edwardian brick mansion from the grandfather who banished her pregnant mother decades before, it’s a no brainer. She’ll visit the place, see it and sell it. Instead Lillian’s captivated by the beautiful home and intrigued by the ghost of the original owner, Howard Speakman. Soon she’s flirting with the charming, witty gentleman who’s been dead for more than a century and before long, they admit it’s a mutual attraction. Still, when she’s alive and he’s dead, any shot at being together seems impossible.

But where there’s a will, there’s a way….one afternoon while pretending to visit the past the impossible
becomes a brief reality. If they visited 1904 before, Lillian knows they can do it again and if so, she
can prevent Howard’s untimely death. With a combination of love, powerful hope, and stubborn will,
Lillian bends time to her will and returns to the summer of 1904. But Howard’s death looms ahead and
if she’s to find a happy ending, she must save him from his original death.


Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy is a full-time romance author. A native of the old historic city of St. Joseph, Missouri, one time home to both Jesse James and the Pony Express, she now lives and writes in the beautiful Missouri Ozark region. Her romance novels include Wolfe’s Lady (December 2010 Evernight Publishing), Love Tattoo, (March 2011, Evernight), Love Scars (June 2011, Evernight), Love Never Fails (May 2011, Rebel Ink Press), Kinfolk (July 2011, Champagne Books), The Marriage Cure (Astraea Press, July 2011), Love Scars, July 2011 (Evernight Publishing). Love Tattoo, Love Scars, and Love Knots, Love Shadows are the first four books of the six book Love Covenant series. Other novels include Witness Protection Program (Rebel Ink Press, A Time To Love (Champagne Books. Sing We Now of Christmas (Rebel Ink Press, December 2011). 2012 is already kicking off with more novel releases including A Patient Heart, Miss Good Samaritan, Guy’s Angel, In Love’s Own Time, Heart of the Ozarks) In The Shadow of War, and a novella, Long Live The King (Champagne Books). Her work also appears in more than twenty anthologies and she has multiple short story/non-fiction credits.

She is a member of RWA, Missouri Writers Guild, EPIC, and the Ozarks Writers League.

Her work also appears in multiple anthologies. She earned a BA degree in both English and History from Missouri Southern State University as well as an AA Degree in Journalism from Crowder College. She worked in broadcast media for a decade and also has a background in education. Her weekly column “Hindsight” appears each week in the Neosho Daily News.

She is married to Roy W. Murphy and the couple has three children, Emily, Megan, and Patrick

If Lee Ann – or Lee as many of her writing friends know her – isn’t writing, she’s reading or spending time outdoors.

In Neosho, Missouri, the small town she now calls home, she serves on the local library board, is active in the annual Relay For Life fight against cancer, has worked with the local Arts Council, and is active in her parish.

Here’s a little taste from the day they inadvertently return to 1904 and realize just what may be possible:

“Lillian.” Howard sounded hoarse, his voice cracking with emotion although she wasn’t sure which one, fear,
elation, or sorrow. “This is 1904.”

“How could it be?” Even as she protested, she knew it was true. The old house was new. The smell of fresh
paint mingled with the Dutch cake aroma and as she’d noticed earlier, the book covers were bright. Howard’s sheet music pages never yellowed but sparkled unblemished white. It was true and if it was 1904, then Howard was alive. He wasn’t a ghost.

Lillian reached for him, stretched out her hand to touch him, and closed her fingers over his arm. Through the
wool of his sleeve, his skin was warm, so alive, and tears formed in her eyes. Her right hand stroked the curve of his cheek and she clasped his hand with the other. He twined his fingers through hers, tight as if he might never let go, and pulled her right hand to his lips, brushing her skin with a faint, soft kiss.

“Oh, Howard.” Her voice broke. “Howard, you’re real.”

She could touch him now and she could smell him, a rich masculine aroma of soap and leather, and the
outdoors. Before, he’d been a ghost, not tangible, not touchable but for now, he was both and she reveled in him with every sense. She touched his hair with trembling fingers and rubbed her cheek against his suit jacket. When she lifted her face, his eyes blazed with emotion and she knew before he bent down they’d kiss.

In her dream, the kiss’d been sweet but in reality, it was sweeter. His lips heated hers, melted, and moved
against her mouth until she couldn’t breathe. She put her arms around his neck and he held her, one hand flat
against her back. Until now, he’d been unattainable, almost fantasy, but now he was a man, a man who held
her in his arms, and she wanted him. Desire burned like a wavering candle flame but without warning, Howard
released her.

“Lillian, I forgot myself. You must forgive me.”

Her lips, bruised from his mouth, stretched into a smile. “I’ll never forgive you if you don’t kiss me again,

“I shouldn’t.” His voice sounded muffled. “But I’ll, sweet Lillian, though I shouldn’t. However, for the
moment I’m alive. Carpe diem!”
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