Author Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy
From Sweet to Heat
Naughty Reader’s: Hi Lee Ann! We're so glad you could join us this week. Tell us a bit about yourself that our readers might not know.
Lee Ann: I come from a truly American family with a number of cultures and nationalities blended together. I’m third generation American but I also have ancestors who were here before the American Revolution (and those who fought in that war). I have ancestors and family members who are/were Catholic, Jewish, Protestant, witches, Irish, German, English, and Welsh. I’m part Cherokee through one of my great-grandmothers. I have ancestors on both sides of the Civil War and in every branch of the service. And yes, I love family history and I’ve been tracing it since I was twelve.
I have three kids, sixteen year old twin daughters as well as an eleven year old son. Twins run in both sides of my family, also in my husband’s but on one of my family lines, they’re the 17th or 18th set of twins in a century.
Naughty Reader’s: What made you want to become a writer?
Lee Ann: I always loved stories, any story, before I could even read. And it wasn’t long before I realized I wanted to tell stories too. Besides, most of the adults in my life tagged me with an overactive imagination and I figured I really should find a viable use for it!
Naughty Reader’s: Please share a bit about your new release without giving away any spoilers.
Lee Ann: Dust Bowl Dreams is set in the early 1930’s in western Oklahoma. I imagine the easiest way to describe it sans spoilers is with the blurb:
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Life’s never easy for a good-hearted man who decides crime is the answer to his troubles.
No rain in the summer of 1933 is bad news for Oklahoma farmer Henry Mink. The local banker wants the mortgage on the farm paid and unless Henry comes up with the dough, his widowed mother and four young siblings won’t have a home. Jobs are scarce so he decides to rob a bank. His sweetheart, school teacher Mamie Logan, doesn’t like the idea and neither does Henry’s kid brother Eddie but Henry’s out of options.
He leaves home and robs a bank at nearby Ponca City. When he returns home, he pays off the mortgage but new troubles show up. Mamie is his greatest joy and they become engaged but by fall, Henry has no options left but to rob another bank. If he can pull off one another big job, he figures he’ll be set until the hard times are over but few things in life go as planned. His desperate efforts will either secure his future or destroy it forever.
If Henry’s family survives and Mamie’s love endures, he’ll need a miracle
Naughty Reader’s: Do you write under a pen name?
Lee Ann: No, I use my very long real name!
Naughty Reader’s: What types of hero or heroine do you like best?
Naughty Reader’s: What types of hero or heroine do you like best?
Lee Ann: I like everyday people, the kind I hope my readers feel they could meet on the street or sit down with for a cup of coffee.
Naughty Reader’s: Those are the best characters to derive a story around. Tell us about a typical day in your life as a writer.
Lee Ann: Busy! My day begins early, usually before dawn. I get up before my kids to have a little quiet time to check emails, update blogs, and plan my day. Once they’re off to school, I spend blocks of time either writing or doing writing-related tasks (promoting, edits, etc.) The same holds true for the afternoon but I usually break around three p.m. to get things lined out for our evening meal and to spend time with my kids when they get home from school.
Naughty Reader’s: Do your books have a common theme or are they all different?
Lee Ann: If there is a common theme, it’s that the power of love can be amazing. Love makes a different in each of my stories.
Naughty Reader’s: How long does it take you to write and then edit a story?
Lee Ann: It depends on the story. I write full-length novels as well as some shorter works. And my historical romances take a lot longer than contemporary because of the research involved.
Naughty Reader’s: Do you have to be alone to write?
Naughty Reader’s: Do you have to be alone to write?
Lee Ann: No and it’s a good thing. I have three kids, two teens and a middle schooler plus a husband and a Jack Russell terrier. And my kids often have friends over so my house can be noisy so it’s a plus I can ignore them and write anyway!Naughty Reader’s: How do you go about naming characters?
Lee Ann: Sometimes I know their name from the start. I think some characters whisper it in my ear. If I’m writing about a past time period, I often do a little research into what were popular names of the times to keep it historically accurate. That’s why my hero and heroine in Dust Bowl Dreams are named Henry and Mamie. It’s a personal quirk but I couldn’t have called them Tiffany and Brandon and been happy. If I’m really searching for a name, I’ll sometime dust off the baby names books from when I was pregnant.
Naughty Reader’s: Is it easier to write about the characters if you find pictures of them before you write or do you write then find character pictures?
Lee Ann: Most of the time, I write them first although I have an idea in my head what they look like. I’ve been working with our Rebel Ink Press cover artist, an amazing guy named Carl J. Franklin, to pick images of cover models so we can try to portray the characters as I see them. I love it – it’s a lot of fun.
Naughty Reader’s: How do you pick locations for your stories?
Naughty Reader’s: How do you pick locations for your stories?
Lee Ann: I write what I know so my locations are either places I’ve lived or places I’ve spent some time. The locations are often places very familiar and also places I love. I’m from St. Joseph, Missouri – and the city shows up in my work from time to time.
Naughty Reader’s: What are you working on now and what should readers be looking forward to from you in the future?
Lee Ann: I just finished a work called “Small Town Love Story” and I’m about to begin work on one about the 1920’s movie industry.
Upcoming I have several more titles this year – Kosovo Tales: Two Hearts, One Love in October from Rebel Ink, two in November from Rebel – Three Encounters of A Close Kind and Devlin’s Grace, a holiday short in November, again from Rebel, The Home Fires of Christmas, and another (my third) Romance on The Go title from Evernight Publishing in November, Movie Star Magic.
In 2013 I have “Three of Hearts” coming in February from Rebel Ink Press, a spin-off story from my first Rebel title, “Love Never Fails”. In March I have two release, one from Rebel and one from Champagne and I hope many more!
Naughty Reader’s: Woo, love that cover - enticing & provocative! Where can readers find out more about you and your books?
Lee Ann: First I'll add I'd like to giveaway ebook copy of Dust Bowl Dreams. Enter through the Rafflecopter below and good luck!
Readers can email and find me on the following sites. My books are on the popular online book sites.
leeannwriter@gmail.com
Twitter: @leeannwriter
Facebook: my personal page is Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy plus I just kicked off an author page – From Sweet to Heat: TheRomance of Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy
Blog: Rebel Writer: Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy
Dust Bowl Dreams
Life’s never easy for a good-hearted man who decides crime is the answer to his troubles.
No rain in the summer of 1933 is bad news for Oklahoma farmer Henry Mink. The local banker wants the mortgage on the farm paid and unless Henry comes up with the dough, his widowed mother and four young siblings won’t have a home. Jobs are scarce so he decides to rob a bank. His sweetheart, school teacher Mamie Logan, doesn’t like the idea and neither does Henry’s kid brother Eddie but Henry’s out of options.
He leaves home and robs a bank at nearby Ponca City. When he returns home, he pays off the mortgage but new troubles show up. Mamie is his greatest joy and they become engaged but by fall, Henry has no options left but to rob another bank. If he can pull off one another big job, he figures he’ll be set until the hard times are over but few things in life go as planned. His desperate efforts will either secure his future or destroy it forever.
If Henry’s family survives and Mamie’s love endures, he’ll need a miracle.
Excerpt:
With any luck he’d hit the farm just after dinner time. There’d be plenty of time for hugs and greetings, a chance for Mama to make over the groceries, and time to take the whole bunch to town for a hamburger out and maybe the picture show. Henry would head over to Mamie’s and invite her along. He spun daydreams about the moment he’d see his girl again and imagined what everyone would do and say when he showed up with full pockets. It’d be like the prodigal son, he figured, but in reverse – they wouldn’t kill a fatted calf for him, but by God, he’d provide something similar.
Sunday morning he’d be proud to escort his family to church and sit in a pew with Mamie at his side. Come Monday he’d be at the bank when it opened and pay the remaining sum on the mortgage. Imagining Richardson’s face when he delivered the cash gave him pleasure and he chuckled out loud. Henry couldn’t recall when he’d been so happy, probably not since before his daddy died, the rain quit, and the economy went to hell in a hand basket.
As he drove, he admired the wide blue sky sweeping from one horizon to the other like a giant bowl and the way the prairies stretched out in every direction. He did his best to ignore the foreclosure signs tacked up on some farms, the dry clouds of dust wafting across the empty fields when the wind blew, and the sad eyed children hanging around broken gates at some farms.
Until Henry rolled down the lane to his home, he’d forgotten how stark the farm looked. What paint once covered the boards of the farmhouse vanished long ago under the relentless assault of Oklahoma weather and he noticed the barn seemed to lean left as if it might collapse into a heap. Dobbin stood in the makeshift corral, head down as if he hadn’t been fed or wanted water. He expected the kids to run outside when they heard the car, but no one came and when he parked in the bare yard, he heard nothing but the whir of the windmill, the grinding of the worn blades.
Henry stepped out and called out, but no answer came. He reached into the car and honked the horn several times, sharp and loud. Although he waited, Mama didn’t emerge from the back door drying her hands on her worn apron, Eddie didn’t bolt out of the barn, and the gals didn’t come from the shade at the far edges of the yard. Unease crept into his pleasant mood and he wondered where his family might have gone. Henry couldn’t figure out how they left either, not with the horse present and the car in his possession.
He carried the wooden boxes of groceries into the house and left them on the kitchen table. Henry removed his bandanas from the inside of his overall legs and reached up for the old Eight O’Clock coffee can Mama kept on a high shelf. When there was money in the house, she stashed it there so he put some money into it. The remainder he carried into the bedroom and stuck beneath the worn mattress. He made sure his wallet had plenty and went outside.
“Hello?” he shouted again.
Even if they were down at the river, they should’ve heard the car horn. He smoked a tailor made cigarette, the tobacco smooth and rich against his tongue. He’d been certain something must be wrong, but he refused to believe it. They’d gone off to visit Uncle Ed or something, he decided. There’d be a reason and it wouldn’t be anything bad. When he finished the smoke, he decided he’d head over to the Logan farm. Maybe Mamie would know where his folks were and he wanted to see her anyway.
Before he could bring the Ford to a full stop, Mamie flew out of the house and ran toward him, black curls flying. Her beauty smote him until he forgot everything else but Mamie. Henry stopped and got out to meet her. He swept her into his arms, marveling at the sweet line of her pink lips, the way her small snub nose wrinkled with joy, and how her eyes sparkled like morning dew.
“Henry, you came home, you’re back,” Mamie cried as she hugged him tight.
He inhaled the sweet fragrance of some simple sachet powder she wore. Her body against his evoked both a tenderness and a sensual interest so strong he couldn’t even put it into words. All Henry knew was how much he desired her. Her starched blue calico dress rustled against him, the full skirt sweeping against his legs and manhood. He couldn’t have resisted if he tried, so he kissed her, tempted to pull the pins from her hair to set it free.
Her mouth tasted sweet and full, more intoxicating than Muscat wine. Sensation flooded his senses, a physical delight making every nerve ending in his body light up with electricity and emotional connection. The heady mix flared up until he all but lost his head, kissing his girl until they both gasped for air. When they broke apart, Mamie hugged him again and he put an arm around her shoulders as they strolled toward the house. Maybe she’d have some fresh lemonade, Henry hoped, or maybe a tasty little biscuit or something. He didn’t bother stopping for lunch and now his stomach ached with hunger.
He’d meant to eat something at home because he figured Mama would have something around to eat even if it wasn’t any more than cold cornbread. But he didn’t get to eat because no one’d been home and reminded, he turned to Mamie.
“Say, honey, you wouldn’t happen to know where my folks went, would you?” he asked.
Her brilliant smile wilted and some of the sparkle faded out of her eyes. Anxiety replaced joy and Henry held his breath. His first impression nailed it – something must be wrong, some awful thing must’ve happened.
“I forgot you wouldn’t know,” Mamie said, her voice dropping lower the way people did when they delivered bad news. He remembered the tone too well from when his daddy died back three years ago.
“What is it?” he demanded. “What happened? Just tell me.”
She looked down, eyelashes brushing her cheek. “It’s Eddie.”
With any luck he’d hit the farm just after dinner time. There’d be plenty of time for hugs and greetings, a chance for Mama to make over the groceries, and time to take the whole bunch to town for a hamburger out and maybe the picture show. Henry would head over to Mamie’s and invite her along. He spun daydreams about the moment he’d see his girl again and imagined what everyone would do and say when he showed up with full pockets. It’d be like the prodigal son, he figured, but in reverse – they wouldn’t kill a fatted calf for him, but by God, he’d provide something similar.
Sunday morning he’d be proud to escort his family to church and sit in a pew with Mamie at his side. Come Monday he’d be at the bank when it opened and pay the remaining sum on the mortgage. Imagining Richardson’s face when he delivered the cash gave him pleasure and he chuckled out loud. Henry couldn’t recall when he’d been so happy, probably not since before his daddy died, the rain quit, and the economy went to hell in a hand basket.
As he drove, he admired the wide blue sky sweeping from one horizon to the other like a giant bowl and the way the prairies stretched out in every direction. He did his best to ignore the foreclosure signs tacked up on some farms, the dry clouds of dust wafting across the empty fields when the wind blew, and the sad eyed children hanging around broken gates at some farms.
Until Henry rolled down the lane to his home, he’d forgotten how stark the farm looked. What paint once covered the boards of the farmhouse vanished long ago under the relentless assault of Oklahoma weather and he noticed the barn seemed to lean left as if it might collapse into a heap. Dobbin stood in the makeshift corral, head down as if he hadn’t been fed or wanted water. He expected the kids to run outside when they heard the car, but no one came and when he parked in the bare yard, he heard nothing but the whir of the windmill, the grinding of the worn blades.
Henry stepped out and called out, but no answer came. He reached into the car and honked the horn several times, sharp and loud. Although he waited, Mama didn’t emerge from the back door drying her hands on her worn apron, Eddie didn’t bolt out of the barn, and the gals didn’t come from the shade at the far edges of the yard. Unease crept into his pleasant mood and he wondered where his family might have gone. Henry couldn’t figure out how they left either, not with the horse present and the car in his possession.
He carried the wooden boxes of groceries into the house and left them on the kitchen table. Henry removed his bandanas from the inside of his overall legs and reached up for the old Eight O’Clock coffee can Mama kept on a high shelf. When there was money in the house, she stashed it there so he put some money into it. The remainder he carried into the bedroom and stuck beneath the worn mattress. He made sure his wallet had plenty and went outside.
“Hello?” he shouted again.
Even if they were down at the river, they should’ve heard the car horn. He smoked a tailor made cigarette, the tobacco smooth and rich against his tongue. He’d been certain something must be wrong, but he refused to believe it. They’d gone off to visit Uncle Ed or something, he decided. There’d be a reason and it wouldn’t be anything bad. When he finished the smoke, he decided he’d head over to the Logan farm. Maybe Mamie would know where his folks were and he wanted to see her anyway.
Before he could bring the Ford to a full stop, Mamie flew out of the house and ran toward him, black curls flying. Her beauty smote him until he forgot everything else but Mamie. Henry stopped and got out to meet her. He swept her into his arms, marveling at the sweet line of her pink lips, the way her small snub nose wrinkled with joy, and how her eyes sparkled like morning dew.
“Henry, you came home, you’re back,” Mamie cried as she hugged him tight.
He inhaled the sweet fragrance of some simple sachet powder she wore. Her body against his evoked both a tenderness and a sensual interest so strong he couldn’t even put it into words. All Henry knew was how much he desired her. Her starched blue calico dress rustled against him, the full skirt sweeping against his legs and manhood. He couldn’t have resisted if he tried, so he kissed her, tempted to pull the pins from her hair to set it free.
Her mouth tasted sweet and full, more intoxicating than Muscat wine. Sensation flooded his senses, a physical delight making every nerve ending in his body light up with electricity and emotional connection. The heady mix flared up until he all but lost his head, kissing his girl until they both gasped for air. When they broke apart, Mamie hugged him again and he put an arm around her shoulders as they strolled toward the house. Maybe she’d have some fresh lemonade, Henry hoped, or maybe a tasty little biscuit or something. He didn’t bother stopping for lunch and now his stomach ached with hunger.
He’d meant to eat something at home because he figured Mama would have something around to eat even if it wasn’t any more than cold cornbread. But he didn’t get to eat because no one’d been home and reminded, he turned to Mamie.
“Say, honey, you wouldn’t happen to know where my folks went, would you?” he asked.
Her brilliant smile wilted and some of the sparkle faded out of her eyes. Anxiety replaced joy and Henry held his breath. His first impression nailed it – something must be wrong, some awful thing must’ve happened.
“I forgot you wouldn’t know,” Mamie said, her voice dropping lower the way people did when they delivered bad news. He remembered the tone too well from when his daddy died back three years ago.
“What is it?” he demanded. “What happened? Just tell me.”
She looked down, eyelashes brushing her cheek. “It’s Eddie.”
