Saturday, June 16, 2012

Hello From Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy!!

Hello - let me introduce myself since I'm not wearing one of those "Hi, I'm Lee Ann" badges today! My name is Lee Amn Sontheimer Murphy and I'm a Rebel Ink Press author.  In fact, my eighth Rebel Ink Press title just came out last week!

How about a little about me?

It surprises some people to learn that I majored in history and well as English.  My bachelor’s degree from Missouri Southern State University is in both and I managed to qualify for honor societies in both areas of study.  My two recent releases from Rebel Ink Press are both historical romances so maybe I was fated to combine the two.  I have both contemporary and historical releases upcoming in the future from Rebel Ink.  My current WIP is contemporary but I’m incubating what I consider an absolutely awesome idea for my next historical romance.  But for this post, I’m talking about the second of my two historical romances from Rebel, Guy’s Angel.

I grew up on stories of the past.  Living in an old river town, St. Joseph, Missouri, surrounded by history, the past intrigued me.  St. Joe is famous for everything from the Pony Express to Jesse James. Wagon trains launched from there and I grew up in an old neighborhood, in a Victorian era house.  Everyone I knew, all my many relatives dwelled in vintage houses.  So I was immersed in history from an early age.

Guy’s Angel is born out of the old stories, birthed out of the vintage streets of the old’ hood, and inspired by my own love of flight.  The story is fiction but the setting is very real or was.  My grandparents brought it to life for me in their tales and I hope I did the same for readers.

            Here’s the blurb:

            When a young woman really believes the sky is the limit, amazing things can happen…

Lorraine Ryan wants to fly airplanes so she heads for the local airstrip in 1925 to make her dream come true.  Most of the flyboys think she’s cute but a woman’s place is in the home, not the cockpit.   When Guy Richter steps up and offers to teach her to fly, she’s captivated with both Guy and flight.  He nicknames her “Angel” and takes her up into that wild blue yonder.  Before long, they’re deep in love.

Love, however, isn’t always enough……

Guy, a former World War I flying ace, is haunted by his past. His demons include his war service, the death of his only brother in an accident the previous year, and the Valkyries that he evaded in France who trail him in the hopes that they can complete his destiny.  But his dreams lie with Angel and as they grow closer and closer, he soon realizes that if anyone can save him, it’s his Angel.


“How long do you think it might take me to learn to fly?” she asked as they motored back toward home.

“It’s going to take awhile, six or eight weeks anyway,” Guy told her, laughing when she pouted. “Angel, all the flyers in the war took that long and up to fifty hours in the air before soloing.  You’ll get it, don’t worry.  You got a knack for it now.”

She felt a little warm ball of joy somewhere in her chest. “Yeah? So I did good?”

“Yeah, doll, you’re doing swell.  Let’s get you home before I have to sweet talk your ma again.”

Her mother stood on the porch again when they pulled up, arms crossed and Angel’s heart dropped to her patent leathers. As Guy stepped out of the flivver, though, to help her out, her mama called to him,

“Hello,” Irene Ryan said in a cheerful voice.

“Hi, Mrs. Ryan,” Guy said. “I brought Angel back in time for Sunday dinner.”

“Thank you,” she replied. “Why don’t you join us? There’s plenty of food.”

Guy’s eyes met Angel’s, asking if he should accept the invitation and she nodded.

“Sure, I’d like that.  Thanks.”

So when they gathered around the table to eat roast chicken with her mother’s homemade bread stuffing, hot rolls, and green beans, Guy sat at her side. Although she ate, Angel hardly tasted the food because her skin prickled at his proximity.  He liked her more all the time. She felt his man-energy filling the space between them with electricity. She liked him, too, a lot more than she let him see so far.

“Mamie Stafford told me all about you,” her mother prattled over dinner.  “You should have told me you’d been to France and made ace.  I thought you were just another kid eager to fly.  She said you came home decorated and that you were shot down, at least once.  Is that right?’

“Yes, m’am,” Guy said, between bites of chicken.  Her mother’s praise and mention of his service seemed to make him uncomfortable. Angel slid her right hand under the table in a very daring move and put it on his leg to offer a bit of comfort. His hand holding his napkin moved to cover it and he offered a slight nod in acknowledgement. “That was a long time ago, now, though.”

“What kind of planes did you fly?” Frank wanted to know. “Was it Sopwith Camels or Spads?”

“I flew mostly Spads,” Guy replied. “And trained on the Curtiss JN 4, the one they call the Jenny.”

After dinner, Guy lingered, relaxing on the front porch with both Angel and Frank.  Frank peppered him with multiple questions, all of which he answered but kept most of his replies short.  Even Frank figured out he didn’t want to discuss his wartime experiences and so the subject shifted to other topics.

Angel thought he might stay till supper but he excused himself around four-thirty and she walked him to his car.

“I hafta work all week,” she confided. “I guess I’ll see you Saturday morning, then, if not before.”

Guy smiled as he brushed a stray curl back from her face.  “I might come by the dime store if I get a chance but otherwise, yeah, I’ll see you Saturday.  Meet me at the field, okay?”

“Sure.” She’d have to beg off work again but she would dream up some excuse, because she’d be there, no question.

“I’m glad your ma decided I’m on the level,” he said, quiet and serious.

If it meant she could go with Guy more often without facing her mother’s temper, she agreed.  “Me, too.”

He looked into her eyes as if he wanted to tell her something vital and important but after a few moments, he turned to leave.

Her need to make the moment last, to somehow give it significance trumped any remaining shyness she might have had so she quipped, “Cash or check?”

Guy grinned. He got her drift.

“So it’s like that, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s like that, ace.”

Tenderness softened his face as he bent toward her,

“Then cash, Angel, cash all the way.”

His mouth fastened over hers like it was made to fit. She arched her body toward him until he put his arms around her. Angel snuggled into his embrace as her lips melted beneath his.  He kissed her slow, with enough heat  she thought she should hear a sizzle, like bacon frying, but the warmth expanded from her mouth to travel through her body.  His lips made her feel very wicked and yet delicious as she craved more of the same. Beneath his obvious passion, sweet affection lurked and caring resonated within her heart, just as her body sang to his kiss.

When he pulled back, he held her in his arms for a few more moments like she mattered and she enjoyed it.

“That was copasetic,” she murmured as he released her.

“And how, baby,” Guy replied in the softest voice she’d heard from him yet. “I gotta scram so be good and I’ll see you.”

 “So long, Guy,” she whispered. “You take care, now, you hear?”

 His eyes met hers and he nodded.

“I hear, Angel.”

 She stood on the sidewalk, not caring if her mother or the neighbors or even Frank saw, and watched as he drove away, lingering until she couldn’t even hear the rattletrap old car any longer. His taste lingered on her mouth and Angel noticed for the first time he tasted like peppermint, not hooch. For whatever reason, her flyboy hadn’t been drinking today and she thought it must be a good thing, even better if it might be because of her.


Rebel Writer: Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy: http://leeannsontheimermurphy.blogspot

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1 comment:

Molly said...

I'm excited to follow this party today! It's my birthday today and this is a fun way to spend it...partying with a great website, publisher and fabulous authors! Thanks for sharing the fun with readers like me :)

Molly (at)reviewsbymolly (dot)com