Lori Handeland
Lori Handeland is a five-time nominee and two-time winner of the prestigious RITA Award from Romance Writers of America, as well as the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over sixty novels spanning the genres of paranormal romance, urban fantasy, contemporary romance, historical romance and historical fantasy.
After a quarter-century of success and accolades, she began a new chapter in her career with her women’s fiction debut, Just Once (Severn House, January 2019), which received a coveted, starred review from Library Journal and was optioned as a feature film by Catalyst Global Media.
Lori lives in Southern Wisconsin with her husband of over thirty-five years. In between writing and reading, she enjoys long walks with their rescue mutt, Arnold, and visits from her two grown sons, awesome daughter-in-law and perfectly adorable grandchildren.
“I could not be a zombie. They had no thoughts. Their brains were gruel. They said little beyond "Brrr!" unable, even, to articulate completely what they sought."Brains,"I said distinctly. "And I feel no burning urge to partake of any." Forsooth, the idea sent a wave of nausea through me. Therefore I was not a zombie.”
“The sun glanced off a long, wicked looking knife in the Comanche's grip. At least Cash wouldn't have long to mourn. The other Indians held similar weapons, but they hung back as their leader knelt next to Sullivan. He muttered something, low and guttural, a single syllable that sounded like an insult, then picked up a lock of Sullivan's hair. The knife descended toward his scalp. "No!" Reese shouted. "Me." The Comanche paused and stared at him with a spark of interest, almost admiration. But that couldn't be since the Indian had no idea what Reese was saying. He continued to try anyway. "Me first." He struggled, wishing he could use his hands to point at himself. "Shut the hell up, Reese," Sullivan said. "What possible difference does it make who they kill first?" "Who knows what might happen. While they're working on me, anyone could show up and save the rest of you." "In that case, me first," Cash drawled. "Me." "No. Yo primero!""Kid, I'm the only one without a wife and far too many children. No one would miss me." "I would." The words were punctuated by the distinct sound of a rifle being cocked. All eyes turned toward the man who had appeared at the edge of the clearing. Cash's sigh of relief was in direct contrast to the sneer in his voice. "About damn time, Rev. We've been waitin' on you.”
“Son of a bitch!" Cash erupted. "He's wearing Nate's guns." Reese had been too occupied gazing into those eyes to notice the oddity of a gun belt strapped around a naked waist. Cash was right. Those were Nate's pretty pearl pistols. Reese had never liked those guns. He liked them even less now. "Sullivan, ask him where he got those," Cash demanded. "What gave you the idea I can speak Comanche?" "Because you are one?" "You're a jackass, but I don't expect you to talk to a donkey." "This is no time to be funny, breed." "Then quit trying so hard.”
“I couldn't help but see; I wasn't blind. I couldn't help but admire; I wasn't dead”
“Words have power," Isaac answered. Words begin and end wars. They create and destroy families. They break hearts. They heal them. If you have the right words, there's nothin on earth you can't do."- Crave the Moon”
“If Eric's a demon," I said slowly, "that makes you a...""Rogue demon hunter."I blinked. "Lost in the Buffyverse, are we?""That show was a real pain in my ass," he muttered.”
“I'm not exactly certain what got into me, besides him.”