Three years ago, television reporter Deirdre King witnessed an organized crime hit and testified against the perpetrator. When he threatened her and the love of her life, Quinn Sullivan, she accepted the WITSEC offer for protection and allowed them to fake her death.
Now she’s cast aside her new persona and come back to Quinn. Her resurrection is a surprise, to say the least, but once he realizes she’s alive, the lovers reunite. Deirdre slips back into the life at Quinn’s Kansas City pub, County Tyrone, and works alongside him and his uncle Desmond. Quinn’s sister and family arrive from Ireland to celebrate a holiday but when the threat hits close to home, they leave.
It’s up to Deirdre, Quinn, and Desmond to face the danger—and survive.
Q & A
Did you plot this book out or write wherever an idea took you?
Most of my novels begin with wondering what if – in the case of Quinn’s Deirdre, a wild, windy day made me restless and I began to visualize a character in the WITSEC program who felt the same, enough that she decided to return to the man she loves – who thinks she’s dead. Once that idea formed, then I know how the story will begin and how it will end, then I fill in the rest, flying by the seat of my pants. What was your hardest (or easiest) scene to write in this book? The hardest scene was one of the first – the moment that Deirdre walks into Quinn’s pub in Kansas City to return from the dead. I had to imagine the wide range of emotions that would come into play – how would a man react to the woman he believed dead walking back into his life? Would he be glad or angry? I ended up writing his response as some of both but it was a volatile moment and difficult to capture the way I wanted it to read.
Since the publication, what would you say has improved in your writing?
I would like to believe so, yes. I strive to improve with each new work that I write, learning from the mistakes made in the previous works, learning from every edit and moving forward. I think – and hope – that my writing on my upcoming May release from Evernight Publishing, A Cure For Love, is tighter and stronger. It features another Irish main male character – Finn.
FAN READER QUESTIONS: How did you decide on your genre?
I had always wanted to write novels. I worked in radio and newspaper for years, selling the occasional short story or article until one day, in my early thirties, with twin toddler daughters, I realized if I was ever going to write a book, it needed to be now or I might never try. All my friends and some of my family thought I was crazy – write a book with two toddlers underfoot, blending potty training with prose. I didn’t really choose the genre – it chose me because I realized I was writing romance – something I had always loved to read.
Where do you find your inspiration?
I find inspiration in everyday life, in the lives I see unfolding around me, and in the past. I’m a sucker for love stories and I believe in the power of love.
He took the hint and kissed her. The moment his mouth touched hers, she knew it wasn’t the kind of sweet, tender kiss he’d shared since her return. His lips burned with heat as he shared a blazing passion. Combined with wild desperation and overwhelming love, the kiss proved more potent than Jameson’s best and caught her in thrall as if Quinn possessed supernatural gifts. His mouth devoured hers, seeking and taking with the frenzy of a starving man. Deidre answered him back, lips locked with his, game for whatever he sought.
She inhaled his heady man scent, so familiar and long denied. Quinn smelled of the same soap he’d always used, a hint of the men’s cologne he favored, and of the pub. A rich, delicious hint of alcohol lingered about him combined with cooking aromas from Des’ kitchen and added another layer to the pleasant smell. Deirdre recalled it well, and it kindled her desires into open flame. She raked her fingers through his thick, dark curly hair and clung tight to him.
His hot mouth strayed from her lips to deliver kisses and nibbles on both sides of her throat. Quinn paused at the base to drop a tender, sweet kiss then moved lower. He thrust his hands beneath her sweatshirt and undid her bra with finesse, a particular talent he hadn’t lost. Quinn fondled her breasts with his hands, his thumb tweaking the nipples until they awakened into taut, hard pink blossoms. “Ah, yer roses are bloomin’, love,” he whispered, his breath ticklish against her skin. He kissed each nipple, which sent erotic shivers through her body. The pure pleasure became almost too much to stand, and she whimpered aloud.
In response, Quinn took each, one at a time, into his mouth and suckled with slow tenderness. Deirdre arched her back as every nerve ending in her body went on high alert. She twined her fingers tighter in his hair until he undid her jeans. “I think ‘tis time to hit the sack, mo ghra, mo chroide.”
She agreed and they managed to shuck their remaining clothing. With hands fondling, fingers caressing, mouths connecting, they made their way to his bed and collapsed on it, face to face. Quinn traced the edge of her face, then used his finger to trail down her body to her feet. He tickled the bottoms and made his way upward as Deirdre sprawled back with legs spread wide in invitation.
Dear god, his hands are as hot as a demon’s straight from hell. She gloried in the way his feverish fingers stroked her with appreciation and reverence. “Ye’re so lovely,” he whispered. “God, I’d forgotten how much, though I dreamed of this near every night.”
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From an early age, Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy scribbled stories, inspired by the books she read, the family tales she heard, and even the conversations she overheard at the beauty shop where her grandmother had a weekly standing appointment.
As an author, she has published more than two dozen novels and novellas writing as both Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy and as Patrice Wayne for historical fiction.
She spent her early career in broadcast radio, interviewing everyone from politicians to major league baseball players and writing ad copy. In those radio years she began to write short stories and articles, some of which found publication. In 1994 she married Roy Murphy and they had three children, all now grown-up. Lee Ann spent years in the newspaper field as both a journalist and editor and was widowed in 2019.
In late 2020, she hung up her editor’s hat to return to writing fiction. A native of St. Joseph, Missouri, she lives and works in the rugged, mysterious, and beautiful Missouri Ozarks.