Greetings from the wilds of the rugged Ozark Mountains. This is my debut post for The Para-Posse so I thought I'd take a few minutes to introduce myself and why I write - among everything else - paranormal romance. Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy is my real name, birth and married. I am a mom of three, a wife, owner of a feisty and spoiled Jack Russell terrier, member of RWA and Missouri Writers Guild, and I do normal daylight things like shopping at the local supermarket despite my interest and writing in the paranormal arena. Why the fascination with things supernatural and paranormal?
I like to say it's because I was born in the lonesome October when the skies were ashen and sober, the leaves they were crisped and sere (okay so I'm borrowing from Edgar Allan Poe and his beautiful poem
Ulalame). I shouted forth from the womb with the umbilical cord wrapped around my neck days before All Hallows Eve and was given a name one scant syllable shy of my grandmother's only daughter's name, a child who was born and died during the birth process in the same hospital. My mother never knew this until I was almost ten. My parents took me home to the brick Victorian house they bought six months earlier where odd things were the stuff of everyday life, a house where my cousin and I dug up bones in the basement. Like my Granny, I'm more than a little bit fey at times and I possess some of the Sight they say my great-grandfather, seventh son of a seventh son, possessed. I grew up in a tough old river town in northern Missouri, a place where history didn't seem so far distant and the past intersected with the present on a daily basis.
The paranormal was my normal so it's no wonder I write paranormal romance, the occasional piece for
Fate magazine, and why supernatural things often show up even in my other works. Add to that a childhood of watching
Dark Shadows, old monster movies with all the lights turned off, and dabbling with a Ouija board when I was still in grade school, it seems inevitable. About the Ouija board - I ditched it, salted and burned it in high school and wouldn't touch one on a bet. I wouldn't advise anyone else to either but that's another story.
The story here is my stories - the paranormal ones, anyway. My debut romance,
Wolfe's Lady (Evernight Publishing, December 2010) dealt with a werewolf and my next release,
Love Tattoo about my truck driving, Shakespeare quoting two hundred year old vampire, Will Brennan, became a series with
Love Scars, Love Knots, and now
Love Shadows out from Evernight Publishing. Two more books,
Love Echoes and
Love Legacy will complete the Love Covenant series.
I debated whether to share an excerpt from
Love Shadows or one from my latest Rebel Ink Press release,
In Love's Own Time but I decided to go with the latter. It's a trippyy novel including elements of contemporary, historical, time travel, paranormal and fantasy. I write from sweet to heat and there's not a lot of heat in this one but there is a multi-layered story. Here's the blurb and an excerpt:
Blurb:
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.
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, Howard.”
“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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Book trailer here:
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Facebook: Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy
Twitter @leeannwriter
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