Cobwebs Over the Moon: The Nightcreature Novels

By Lori Handeland

When Manhattanite Carly Kelly finds herself thrust into the icy embrace of the Alaskan wilderness, she seeks refuge in the arms of Dylan Shepard, a rugged soldier haunted by his own secrets. As the moon rises above an icy landscape, Carly and Dylan race against time to find her mother and escape the clutches of relentless werewolves. As the line between friend and foe blurs Carly wonders: can a love forged by fear and desperation last?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lori Handeland
• Release date: May 3, 2024
• ISBN: 9798988002390

Lori Handeland

Lori Handeland is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author with more than 60 published works of fiction to her credit. Her novels, novellas, and short stories span genres from paranormal and urban fantasy to historical romance. After a quarter-century of success and accolades, she began a new chapter in her career. Marking her women’s fiction debut, Just Once (Severn House, January 2019) is a richly layered novel about two women who love the same man, how their lives intertwine, and their journeys of loss, grief, sacrifice, and forgiveness. While student teaching, Lori started reading a life-changing book, How to Write a Romance and Get It Published. Within its pages. the author, Kathryn Falk, mentioned Romance Writers of America. There was a local chapter; Lori joined it, dived into learning all about the craft and business, and got busy writing a romance novel. With only five pages completed, she entered a contest where the prize was having an editor at Harlequin read her first chapter. She won. Lori sold her first novel, a western historical romance, in 1993. In the years since then, she has written eleven novels in the popular Nightcreature series, five installments in the Phoenix Chronicles, six works of spicy contemporary romance about the Luchettis, a duet of Shakespeare Undead novels, and many more books. Her fiction has won critical acclaim and coveted awards, including two RITA Awards from Romance Writers of America for Best Paranormal Romance (Blue Moon) and Best Long Contemporary Category Romance (The Mommy Quest), a Romantic Times Award for Best Harlequin Superromance (A Soldier’s Quest), and a National Reader’s Choice Award for Best Paranormal (Hunter’s Moon). Lori Handeland lives in Southern Wisconsin with her husband. In between writing and reading, she enjoys long walks with their rescue mutt, Arnold, and occasional visits from her two grown sons and her perfectly adorable grandson.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

New York City, 2007

My first clue that everything was about to change came on the night someone tried to kill me.

Hey, they don’t need to hit me over the head with a brick to get my attention. A bullet whizzing past my right ear does the trick just fine.

Roger, my bodyguard, shoved me to the ground behind the limo. Beneath my faux-fur coat, my evening gown tore with a shriek of rending cloth to rival the shrieks of the crowd as they stampeded down Central Park West.

Night had fallen over the city hours ago. The drifting clouds made it seem as if there were cobwebs over the moon.

I’d been on my way to a charity event—the story of my life. I guess they’d just have to do without me. In truth, there was no one to miss me if I were gone. Not even my father, who’d started hiring men like Roger to protect me as soon as I could walk.

I’d never been able to figure out why J. Thomas Kelly IV—J.T. to everyone, including me—spent so many of his pretty green dollars protecting a daughter he’d never seemed to care for.

After having my mother committed, divorcing her, then marrying a succession of younger and younger wives, who gave him blonder and blonder children, Daddy had no time for his dark-haired, dark-eyed, eldest, rudest child.

I’d learned how to handle the neglect; my mother hadn’t. Phoebe killed herself the day the divorce papers arrived.

Keep your head down, Roger snapped, shoving my nose into the pavement in case I didn’t get the concept. Then he dialed 911 on his cell. I assumed the doorman, who’d scurried back into my apartment building at the first sign of trouble, had done the same.

Of course, it was rush hour in Helltown, I mean Manhattan, so it was anyone’s guess when the cavalry would arrive.

Carly. The urgency in Roger’s voice made the world narrow to him and me, even as the danger made me hyper aware of every sound around us.

Someone was coming.

Get behind me. He duck walked past, his broad bulk blotting out the frosty silver light of a nearly full moon.

Nevertheless, I saw the man who stepped around the limo quite clearly. His eyes went straight to me and he smiled. I’d never seen another smile like it. Our attacker not only wanted to kill me, he wanted other things too. Things that would give me nightmares—if I survived them.

Roger fired. Our attacker jerked once, then burst into flames.

I sat back on my rump, hard. The jolt did nothing to dissipate my shock, not only over Roger shooting the man without any warning but . . . since when did bullets cause spontaneous combustion?

Roger stood slowly, keeping his head low as he scanned the street for a second gunman. I didn’t bother to get up. I doubted I could.

Several tenants came out of my building and gathered around the flames, staring into them as if they were at a bonfire. I half expected someone to break out the marshmallows.

A slightly hysterical giggle bubbled up at the thought. What was the matter with me?

A thud drew my attention to Roger, who’d keeled over at my feet. The crisis brought me out of my lethargy as nothing else could. I was queen in a crisis. Give me a hundred members of the Women’s League at a Mother’s Day luncheon, serve Cabernet with the salmon, and watch me shine.

I crawled across the pavement, ignoring the scrape along my palms and the pain in my knees.

Roger? His eyelids fluttered open. What happened?

I asked the question as much about him as about the barbequing assassin.

I guess that first shot didn’t miss after all. Roger touched his chest, and his hand came away covered in blood, which hadn’t been immediately visible in the dim light on his black shirt.

Crap.

I’ll be okay, he said, though his eyes drifted shut.

The wail of what sounded like a hundred sirens came closer. What am I supposed to tell the police?

Nothing. His voice was fading.

People don’t explode when you shoot them, Roger.

I know.

"What is going on?"

You’ll have to ask your father about that, he said, then he passed out.

Daddy. Swell. Just the guy I never wanted to see.

The paramedics arrived, loaded Roger into the ambulance, and drove away. The police tried to take me in for questioning, but J.T.’s weasel-faced attorney showed up, and that was the end of that. I guess it paid to own the mayor.

Josh Branson hustled me into his limo, leaving the one Roger had hired behind. Half the police were already swarming all over it, while the other half stared at the still-burning corpse on the sidewalk.

I need to go to the hospital.

Alarm flared in lawyer-boy’s pale gray eyes. You’re hurt?

Not a scratch. I folded my fingers over my abraded palms and shifted so my dress did not reveal my skinned knees. I’m worried about Roger.

Who?

Branson rarely bothered to learn the names of underlings; he’d no doubt learned that from J.T.

My bodyguard.

He’ll be fine.

I’d like to find that out for myself.

No.

I narrowed my eyes, but Branson wasn’t scared of me. Despite his fresh face and youthful appearance, he had an ancient soul, forged in the fires of Hell. Or maybe just Harvard Law.

You can call the hospital as soon as I get you to your father.

You’re taking me to J.T.?

Of course. He’s worried about you.

I gave an unladylike snort. If he was that worried, he could have come himself.

He had a meeting.

Why I found that funny, I’m not quite sure, but I started laughing, then I couldn’t stop. Branson turned toward the window and ignored me.

I’m sure he thought I was a waste of a good penthouse apartment, and he was probably