Sunday, February 26, 2012
As the world awaits the winners of this year's Oscars, I'm sharing one of my own video efforts, the newest in my series of book trailers featuring my novels. "In Love's Own Time" is a different kind of read - it combines elements of contemporary romance with time travel, historical romance, paranormal, and more.
Here's all the details:
“In Love’s Own Time”
Ann Sontheimer Murphy
Ink Press Feb 17 2012
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
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.
aggravation would kill her if the suspense didn’t. Love relationships were hard enough with a
flesh and blood partner but Howard’s disappearing act was beyond
difficult. There must be some way, she
thought, to cross the boundaries of time so she and Howard could be together
and Lillian resolved to figure out how.
she would rather bawl with frustration, she took action. The local library was the only place which
might have the materials she sought so she Googled Einstein’s theories on one
of the public computers. What she read
led to her read about Goedal, the other Princeton scientist she mentioned to
Howard and to others, everyone from Stephen Hawking to Igor D. Novikov. A search of simply “time travel” linked to
Washington Irving’s legend of Rip Van Winkle, King Arthur’s daughter Gwenth, to
Carroll’s Alice, and even to Sleeping Beauty.
The mish-mash of information was confusing but as she sorted through it,
reading and considering it all, a sense of excitement crept over her. Repeatedly from very diverse sources, she
read time travel might be possible, not from crackpots or harebrained pseudo
scientists but from people at the top of their field.
one explained how it worked but most acknowledged the possibility. As she surfed the World Wide Web, she jotted
down books to read and movies to watch.
Dean Koontz wrote a novel about time travel called Lightning and a woman named Diana Gabaldon penned an entire series
of novels based on time travel. Movies
like Kate and Leopold and Somewhere in Time, the last based on a
novel by Richard Matheson, intrigued her.
in research, Lillian didn’t realize how long she’d been there until the
librarian tapped her shoulder.
sorry but we close in fifteen minutes.”
aching with fatigue, mind whirling with information, she gathered up her
copious notes and walked out to the parking lot. Her car was alone beneath the vapor lights
and although she was weary, Lillian was too restless to go home. Instead, she drove across town and up the
business highway to where Howard’s farm once existed.
The neat orchards she hoped to find were gone
and instead a housing subdivision sprawled over the fertile ground, the
foundation of Howard’s fortune. Most of
the ranch style homes dated to the late 1950’s or early 1960’s but on the far
edges, newer homes ringed the original neighborhood. The railroad track she recalled from her
dream and the hills with a few gnarled old apple and peach trees were all
remaining of the former fruit farm. The
idea brought sadness and Lillian knew Howard’d feel the same. As her headlights
swept through the subdivision, she searched for any other signs of Speakman’s
Farm but found none so she retreated to Seven Oaks.
the humid summer night, her fatigue felt like a heavy blanket and Lillian was
almost too tired to drag herself up the stairs.
As she wandered through the dark downstairs rooms, she called his name
but Howard didn’t answer. Missing him was
an ache and so weary, emotions drained, she lay down across the bed, too tired
to even undress and fell asleep.
of the tree branches made lacy silhouettes across the ceiling of the bedroom
when she woke, moving shadows dancing with the wind. Although she’d no clue what time of day it
might be, Lillian felt too somnolent to rise so she lay, tangled in the
bedspread and tried to sort her myriad emotions. Joy at Howard’s declaration of love dimmed
when she considered the difficulties of their unique relationship and a strange
prickling delight came as she remembered visiting 1904. As the wind rushed through the trees like
whispers, she struggled to make sense of time travel, to figure out a way to
make it possible on a permanent basis.
theories, and thoughts warred until she sat up, limbs protesting the motion after
too many hours of deep sleep, with a revelation. They didn’t need the books, she wouldn’t
have to know the properties of relativity after all, and there was no set
format certain to succeed. It didn’t matter because she’d done it. If they managed once to travel to the past
without trying, they could and would by design.
my dear Watson,” Lillian murmured, stretching as she swung her legs to the
floor. “It’s simple, really.”
one ear cocked for any sound to indicate Howard’s return, Lillian bathed and
dressed, brushing her teeth to rid her mouth of an unpleasant film coating both
teeth and gums. She picked up her watch
from the dresser and nodded. It was
just now noon; she’d not slept away as much of the day as she’d guessed, a good
thing since she needed to handle many details.
Singing, she floated with elation downstairs to make coffee and a
list. Time travel was possible and
she’d do it or die. Either way, she’d
end up with Howard.
the time, he appeared, dapper in a blue and white checked Madras shirt worn
over dark brown trousers held up with suspenders striped the same colors as the
shirt, she’d scribbled half a notebook full of things to do or buy or look
up. Intent on the next item, she didn’t
realize he was with her until she felt his spirit caress, light as a breath,
across the back of her neck.
are you plotting, my dear heart?” He asked, sitting down across the kitchen
can do it, Howard.” She put down her pen to reach out for his hand and then remembered
she couldn’t hold it. “Time travel, I mean.
All we have to do is believe it and live it. If we could do it when we were just
pretending, we can do it. Every
thing has to be just right and I’ve
so many things to get and things to do but we can. Isn’t it wonderful?”
The Romance Studios