
Lori L. was born on November 14. She did not attend college and married with Allen Foster, her High School sweetheart. The marriage settled in Ohio. She held various jobs as a saleslady, a grocery store clerk, and a Proctor and Gamble material handler before having the first of her three sons in 1981, after that she stayed at home to raise them. Unlike many writers, Lori Foster never considered a writing career until she was in her early 30s. In fact, she'd never even read romances until her sister once forced a load of them on her while she was down sick and unable to fight back. But it was a blessing she quickly took to, and before long, she was thoroughly hooked. It seemed a natural progression for the reader to want to write, so Lori penned a romance novel in longhand, strictly for her own entertainment. Once that was done, she borrowed a typewriter and started another. When she attended a local writers' conference and discovered that not many people had ever completed a book, Lori began to realize she might actually have a talent for something that she absolutely loved doing. It was only after writing 10 complete manuscripts that Lori made her first sale to Harlequin in 1996. Her second book launched the Temptation Blaze subseries and since then she's continued writing at a prolific pace. Her books have appeared on the New York Times Extended, Waldenbooks, and USA Today bestseller lists. Lori also contributes to Writer's Digest Magazine and the Romance Writers Report. She regularly presents workshops to her local chapter and at various conferences, including RWA National. Though Lori loves writing, her first priority will always be her family. She, her husband, and their three sons, all humorous, handsome, and honorable fellows, are quickly following in their father's footsteps.
“The so-called ‘psychotically depressed’ person who tries to kill herself doesn’t do so out of quote ‘hopelessness’ or any abstract conviction that life’s assets and debits do not square. And surely not because death seems suddenly appealing. The person in whom Its invisible agony reaches a certain unendurable level will kill herself the same way a trapped person will eventually jump from the window of a burning high-rise. Make no mistake about people who leap from burning windows. Their terror of falling from a great height is still just as great as it would be for you or me standing speculatively at the same window just checking out the view; i.e. the fear of falling remains a constant. The variable here is the other terror, the fire’s flames: when the flames get close enough, falling to death becomes the slightly less terrible of two terrors. It’s not desiring the fall; it’s terror of the flames. And yet nobody down on the sidewalk, looking up and yelling ‘Don’t!’ and ‘Hang on!’, can understand the jump. Not really. You’d have to have personally been trapped and felt flames to really understand a terror way beyond falling.””
“Everybody is identical in their secret unspoken belief that way deep down they are different from everyone else.””
“I do things like get in a taxi and say, "The library, and step on it.””
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