Inspiration And Ideas Behind "A Patient Heart"


Some memories evoke the essence of our childhoods and condense the summer sunshine into something to savor.   During the bleak winter months I often find myself recalling moments from the past and when I do, I often think about the first boy I fell in love with at the age of nine.  Call me an early starter but at the tender age of nine I fell hard for the boy just a little older than me who lived next door to my aunt in my hometown of St. Joseph, Missouri.   His large family filled their home with noise and they had enough team members from their family alone to field an ongoing baseball game in the back yard.  Their mother baked snicker doodle cookies, the first I ever tasted, and I spent as much time as possible trailing after one of her sons.  I dreamed of growing up to marry him and although it never happened, Iā€™m left with a few fond memories, enough for inspiration.



            When A Patient Heart debuted this week from Rebel Ink Press, some of those who knew me best during my childhood may recognize the inspiration behind my hero, Connor Donavan.  Now Joe isnā€™t Connor and Iā€™m certainly not Catherine, my heroine but every idea must begin somewhere and the idea behind my Valentineā€™s Day contemporary romance started in my memories.

            The story itself has little to do with my own past.  The novel is set in our Neosho so it probably owes just as much to my present.  Rather than attempt to describe it, hereā€™s the blurb:

            As a little girl, Catherine dreamed she'd marry Connor Donavan one day and as teenagers, that dream seemed within reach. Until Connor ended their relationshipby leaving town and breaking Catherine's heart. Ten years later, far from the old hometown, Catherine reports for work as a nurse one snowy January evening and learns that her new patient is none other than her old love, Connor. When he recognizes her, all the old feelings stir but a few sparks fly, too. As Connor recovers from an accident, Catherine realizes she loves him more than ever and he seems to love her as well. But after he leaves the hospital and convalesces at her home, his real life intrudes into their quiet time together. Then Connor leaves Catherine behind and she stays until a message sends her speeding to Kansas City, to Connor's club... On Valentine's Day.

            Like most of my novels, it will debut as an eBook.  Readers who prefer a paperback may be glad to know a third novel with my byline is now also available as a trade paperback.  My first time travel romance (first because another is coming Feb 17) A Time To Love is now also available in a paperback you can hold in your hands. 

            Every story begins somewhere.  Although they all evolve from my imagination, some begin here in Neosho, others spring from my memories of another time and place.

            But the common denominator is romance that lives and breathes the power of love.

            Excerpt:

ā€œHi,ā€ he said
ā€œHello, how are things going?ā€
He shot her a scornful look. ā€œIt could be better.ā€
Catherine came around the bed to sit down. ā€œIs something wrong?ā€
ā€œNo,ā€ he said, his voice harsh and deep. ā€œIā€™m just fine except for the leg, the cracked ribs, the concussion, scrapes and bruises. Not to mention Iā€™m bored out of my mind, I missed my first chance at a vacation in about five years and Iā€™ve got a business to run. It wonā€™t do very well without me there.ā€
Without even thinking about it, she picked up his hand and held it. ā€œAre you getting enough pain meds? I can up the dosage if you need it.ā€
Connor shook his head. ā€œPainā€™s not too bad right now and I can deal. Itā€™s the rest of it Iā€™m having trouble with.ā€
ā€œConnor, Iā€™m sorry. Let your club wait until youā€™re better,ā€ Catherine told him. She racked her brain to think of something he might enjoy. ā€œI can hunt down a magazine or a book if you want to read or give you my Kindle.ā€
He turned his hand around and gripped hers tight. ā€œI have just enough of a headache I donā€™t feel like reading.ā€
Heā€™s a tough nut to crack. Maybe, though, beneath his hard shell, heā€™s still worth knowing.

There were so many things sheā€™d like to say, questions she longed to ask but Catherine chickened out and made small talk instead. ā€œTell me about your vacation you missed. Where were you going?ā€
ā€œEureka Springs, Arkansas,ā€ he said after a pause. ā€œHave you ever been there?ā€
ā€œSure, I have.ā€ Catherine adored the Victorian village tucked away in some of the most rugged mountains in the Ozark region. Located just a few hours south in Arkansas, Eureka Springs drew visitors from around the world who adored the steep streets, the antique architecture, the ghosts and the unique flavor the place offered. ā€œHave you?ā€
ā€œNo, it would have been my first time,ā€ Connor said, ā€œI had a room booked at some haunted hotel, the Crescent and everything. If it hadnā€™t snowed, Iā€™d be there now.ā€
ā€œThen I wouldnā€™t have ever got the chance to see you again,ā€ Catherine said, the words out before she considered them.
A faint smile illuminated his face, softening his features. ā€œYeah, thatā€™s true. Well, thereā€™s one small good thing out of this mess. I bet Iā€™ll have to pay for the damn hotel room even though I never set foot in it.ā€
ā€œMaybe not once they know you were in an accident,ā€ Catherine said. ā€œI can try to call them if you want.ā€
His grin increased. ā€œWould you? Iā€™d appreciate that.ā€
ā€œSure. What kind of business do you own?ā€ She pretended not to know anything about it.
For the first time, his smile warmed his eyes, giving his dark brown eyes a sparkle. ā€œItā€™s a club, called ā€˜For My Sinsā€™, in Kansas City, Kansas. Thereā€™s a full bar, tables and restaurant service, a stage and a small dance floor. I have a jukebox, a retro Rock-Ola but I book live bands Friday and Saturday nights. On weekends, I draw a fair enough crowd.ā€
ā€œWhat kind of music?ā€
ā€œRock and roll,ā€ he answered with enthusiasm. ā€œA lot of it is vintage, Fifties, Sixties and Seventies, all the stuff Iā€™ve always liked. Most of it puts todayā€™s music to shame and I get all ages, from aging baby boomers to kids who need to be carded.ā€
ā€œIt sounds awesome,ā€ Catherine said and meant it. If she had time, sheā€™d love to spend a few hours in a place like that. Itā€™d suit Connor, she thought, although sheā€™d never thought of him running a club. She imagined it as just a little bit shabby but not trashy, dark and mysterious. ā€œDo you have one of those silver balls hanging over the dance floor?ā€
ā€œOh, yeah,ā€ Connor said. ā€œI do.ā€
ā€œCool!ā€ Catherine said, as a woman, not his nurse. ā€œDo you sing?ā€
He laughed with a genuine burst of mirth rumbling like a distant night train. ā€œI donā€™t where anyone can hear me. They told me as a little kid I couldnā€™t carry a tune in a bucket. I thought youā€™d remember. Iā€™m no singer although I love music. Do you still sing? You used to be pretty good.ā€
ā€œSometimes,ā€ Catherine admitted. She hadnā€™t sung much in years but he wouldnā€™t know.
ā€œYou could sing to me.ā€ Something flared in his eyes to remind her of heat lightning. She liked the intensity and yet it scared her a little too. Talking about things she wouldnā€™t share with anyone else seemed intimate and if Annette wandered in, sheā€™d have to explain but she didnā€™t know how she could.
ā€œMaybe I could sometime but my breakā€™s almost over.ā€ It ended ten minutes earlier but she wasnā€™t counting and hoped Annette wasnā€™t either. ā€œI need to change your catheter bag because itā€™s full and then I have other patients to check on, too. I should take your blood pressure reading also.ā€
ā€œDo it first,ā€ he said, his gaze steady on her face.
So she did, attached the cuff, pumped it up and listened with the stethoscope she kept around her neck while on duty. His reading came in just below normal, natural enough since he remained prone in bed and she charted it.
ā€œSo will I live?ā€ Connor asked.

ā€œYou will, to at least a hundred,ā€ she quipped.

 

Facebook: Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy
Twitter: @leeannwriter
Rebel Writer: Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy http://leeannsontheimermurphy.blogspot.com
Seanachie Stories ā€“ Tuesday Tales And More http://seanachiestories-tuesdaytalesandmore.blogspot.com
Book trailer:   http://youtu.be/Eo4Ttr_7O8Q

Comments

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    Thanks,
    Pablo from Argentina

    ReplyDelete

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