Lori Wilde Quotes

Each year, I pick something new to learn. One year, it was learning how to knit, and I got 'The Sweethearts' Knitting Club' out of the experience. Another year, it was to volunteer at the local domestic abuse shelter, and I ended up volunteering there for three years.

Being loved is a good thing. A grand thing. The best damned thing of all.

My husband is the romantic one in our relationship. He's always doing sweet things for me. Each year, we recreate our first date - it was a blind date, and we met at the zoo, followed by a trip to the museum. I'd have to say that's my favorite romantic date.

Stetsons are the ultimate in cowboy headwear.

To be honest, I chose romance because writing a book seemed so dauntingly long. I looked around for something short, discovered Harlequin romances, and decided to read a few to see if I could do it.

Their tongues met, starving, two years without this delicious meal. They kissed and kissed and kissed. The joining of their mouths was more intense than that night on the ferry. This was a kiss of reunion.
Of forgiveness.
Of coming home.

Romance novels have the power to bring love into the lives of readers. Through the characters, we get to fall in love every time we pick up a romance novel. What could be better than that?

For all its ups and downs and challenges, I love writing. We only grow through adversity, so I welcome the difficulties, knowing bumps in the road are my greatest teachers.

Real cowboys wear Wranglers. End of story. Levi's may be chic and trendy, but if you work cattle for a living, you wear Wranglers.

Cowboy!" she hollered.
Every man on the street turned to stare at her."
pg.117

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I was a latecomer to romance, although I did read gothics. My father used to work for the 'Fort Worth Star-Telegram,' and their book reviewer, author Leonard Sanders, would pass on the gothics for my dad to give to me since Leonard didn't review gothics. I gobbled up books by Mary Stewart, Madeleine Brent, Victoria Holt and Phyllis Whitney.

When an author creates a town in her novels, she spends a great deal of time visualizing the streets and buildings, landmarks and topography. And while the town becomes real in her imagination, it's rare for an author to see the place she's created actually spring to life.

Like a battalion of marines at roll call, her neck hairs marshaled to five-alarm status. She stumbled back to her desk, jerked open the botton drawer, retrieved a pair of Nighthawk binoculars, fixed the scopes on him, and fiddled with the focus. Gotcha. Hair the colour of coal. Chocolate brown eyes. A five-o'clock shadow ringing his craggy jawline. Handsome as the day was long ...
He sauntered towards her, oozing charisma from every pore. Charlee forgot to breathe. And then he committed the gravest sin of all, knocking her world helter-skelter. The scoundrel smiled.

I knew from the time I was a young girl that I was destined to be a writer. I'm incredibly stubborn. The more someone tells me I can't do something, the harder I work to prove them wrong. My father's nickname for me when I was growing up was 'Hardhead.'