Good morning 🙂
Speaking of garden pests, we have rabbits.Â They will be back out in force in the spring no doubt.Â They eat EVERYTHING!Â I can’t have pansies anymore because they nip the blooms right off…grumble, grumble.
Okay, I’m done kvetching.
Reviews…they are important to me as a writer because I like getting some validation as do most writers I think.Â Writing is a lonely business and it feels good to have someone say they liked my book.Â Of course, I want my readers to like my books.Â Readers mean everything to me.Â Without them…(shuddering) no, it’s too scary to even contemplate.
One thing I try to remember is that writing is a very subjective business and when your work goes out for review you hope that the reviewer is in a good mood the day they read your book.Â I also try to remember that even books that have gotten bad reviews have appeared on the NYT list.
I would love to have a reader come up to me and tell me how much they enjoyed my book.Â I would be thrilled and delighted.Â That would make my day, no my whole year!
Yes, I have been disillusioned, it happens daily as a matter of fact. I worry constantly that my work isn’t good enough, that readers and my publishers won’t like it. I worry about promotion, if I’m doing everything I can to promote my books, what is working, what is not working.
The thing that keeps me going is the need to tell stories. I love telling stories and I love writing. I’m not saying it’s easy because it isn’t.Â Writing is hard–period. The competition is dog-eat-dog, down and dirty, brutal and ego deflating.Â No question about it.
Plus the chances of me really making a dent in the publishing world are slim to none.Â There are literally thousands of writers out there trying to do the same thing I’m doing, trying to grasp the NYT brass ring, trying to survive in the shark infested waters.Â It’s like a bunch of starving curs fighting over a tiny scrap of meat.
Did I mention that it was hard?
All I can do is keep trying, keep writing, keep surviving.
Here are some brief quotes from some of my reviews followed by another excerpt–this time from Cursed, with Love. 🙂
Cursed, with Love – Romantic Times – 4 Stars
“Gorman pens a novel that expertly combines romance and mystery. The sexual tension between the protagonists is electric and the love scenes are spontaneous and intense…”
Cursed, with Love – Just Erotic Romance Reviews – 4 Stars
“Nick and Hope stepped off the pages and spoke to me and I found myself wanting to speak back!Â The love triangle, including Cullinan, Abel O’Brien, the DA, and Abel’s sister-in-law is almost a story itself…”
The Secret Truth at Dare Ranch – Coffee Time Romance – 4 cups
“I loved how Ms. Gorman gave the hero sensitivity, and although strong, he could still have tears in his eyes.Â These characters have layers that you get to see as they are peeled back one by one.Â An intense, loving, and absorbing read…”
Sheriff in her Stocking – Coffee Time Romance – 5 Cups
“This story is a definite page turner that will have you reading it in one sitting, unable to leave it, even for a minute…”
Wolf Island – Coffee Time Romance 4 Cups
“I found this story to be breath-taking and beguiling all rolled into one. Bravo on a story well done, and one I will recommend to friends…”
CURSED, WITH LOVE
Detective Nick Morelli lost his wife, but he canâ€™t seem to let her go. He buries his heart in work, and tries to avoid emotional entanglements. Now, heâ€™s been assigned to a plum case â€“ tracking down a jewel thief amidst Denverâ€™s posh elite. The only clue is a pristine white feather, signature of an infamous thief known only as â€œThe Dove.â€ His prime suspect is Cullinan Benedict, the owner of a local antique shop.
Assistant District Attorney Hope Benedict and her brother Cullinan are the children of The Dove, who died several years ago. Though Cullinan is innocent, they know the truth about the ancient healing amulet â€“ that is, itâ€™s cursed, with love. Anyone giving the amulet to a wife or a lover will die a violent death. They must protect that secret and others and see the amulet returned to Scotland where the curse will be broken.
From the first minutes of their meeting, Nick and Hope feel a powerful attraction. To get romantically involved would be a severe conflict of interest because of Cullinanâ€™s status as a suspect. Also, protecting Cullinan and the secret must come first. Still, Nick and Hope must work together, and as their passion increases so does the danger â€“ from the real thief, an organized crime lord with a terminal disease who will stop at nothing for the amulet that can cure him.
ISBN# 978-1-59632-293-6Â Cursed, with Love
They put on their coats and stepped outside into the clear, frigid night. As they walked along a shoveled path toward the southwest corner of the back yard, Hope could see the outline of the greenhouse huddled in the darkness. Mysterious shadows danced around the yard.
She looked up at a thin crescent moon hanging in the black velvet sky crammed with stars then glanced over at Nick. Fear for her brother clouded her mind. She had to protect him and the key was turning the tables on Nick Morelli.
From Nickâ€™s pointed questions a few minutes ago, it was obvious that he thought Cullinan had committed the robbery at Abelâ€™s house. Did he suspect her as well? That crack about breaking the law still rankled. She was an honorable attorney now, not the cat burglar she used to be working jobs alongside her father and brother.
To top it off, she was attracted to Nick, the dedicated cop who was going to try to bring her brother down. What was she going to do about her attraction? Absolutely nothing. She had Cullinan to think about, not her own libido.
Hope shivered inside her coat against the cold. She wouldnâ€™t see him again, she vowed silently. Unless he came to her office on official business. Otherwise, no more home-cooked meals for two in the warm, cozy interior of his house or anywhere else for that matter. She should have insisted he come to her office in the first place instead of agreeing to meet him on his own turf.
She felt him walking next to her, the warmth and scent of his body reaching out, surrounding her. Their breath mingled and dissipated into the night. Her pulse tumbled. The man was definitely hot. God help her, she was starting to forget the reason she was here in the first place.
Nick had raised the stakes considerably by focusing his attention on Cullinan. She had to get a firm grip on her hormones and find out everything she could about his investigation if she was going to keep her brother safe. The insane attraction she felt for Nick had disaster written all over it.
When they reached the small lean-to greenhouse, Nick opened the door and they stepped inside the warm, humid interior. He flipped a switch and light washed through the space. The air smelled of healthy plants, soil and fertilizer. Nick pressed a button on a CD player sitting on a shelf by the door and the sound of a saxophone, deep and sensual, permeated the room.
Interesting, a man who nurtures plants with music. Hope looked around at the snug interior about the size of her office. There were three planting benches along a wall lined with glass shelving that made an efficient use of the small space. Plastic flats marked with the name and planting date of new seedlings that appeared green and healthy filled the shelvesÂ …Â â€œLovely.â€
â€œThanks.â€ There was a hint of pride in his voice. â€œItâ€™s got everything I need, a water supply, work benches, a heater for controlling the temperature and shades to diffuse the sunlight when I need to.â€
She had a sudden image of her mother patting the soil around a newly planted rose bush. â€œMy mother would have loved it here. She had quite a green thumb.â€ Hope sighed. â€œIâ€™m not very good with plants Iâ€™m afraid, so youâ€™ll have to educate me.â€
As they strolled around the room, Hope grew warm and took off her coat. She wasnâ€™t sure if it was because of the temperature of the greenhouse, the spicy jazz playing, or Nickâ€™s presence by her side. Hope stopped now and then to study the pots of flowers and herbs. Along the far end, she spied a rather sickly looking geranium. â€œThis one doesnâ€™t look so goodÂ …â€
Nick moved up behind her and looked over her shoulder. Hope smelled his soap and the light tangy hint of aftershave. She closed her eyes, took a long, slow breath and just breathed him in. Hope wanted to lean against him and see if his chest was as solid as it looked. Her eyes popped open in shock at how quickly she brushed aside her vow to control her attraction.
â€œMy mother had it in her kitchenÂ …â€ He stood so close that his breath blew against Hopeâ€™s ear. She swallowed hard as desire made her skin grow warm and tight. The only reason she felt this attraction, she reminded herself, was that it had been too damn long since sheâ€™d had sex. Yes, that was it. Nothing more.
â€œI should have known better than to give her a plant.â€ Nickâ€™s voice rang with affection, seemingly completely oblivious to her growing desire. â€œIn a few more weeks, youâ€™ll never know it had been neglected.â€
Hope had begun to feel neglected herself. Sexually speaking, that is. Her own fault, she supposed. Sheâ€™d been focusing solely on work for the past several months. If she had been going out on a regular basis, she wouldnâ€™t feel this intense attraction for Nick. Maybe if she told herself that a few hundred times sheâ€™d start to believe it. The music changed to a familiar song, and Hope couldnâ€™t help but smile at the memory it evoked.
â€œWhy are you smiling?â€ Nick asked, still looking over her shoulder.
Startled out of her thoughts, Hope turned. He was close, much too close but she couldnâ€™t bring herself to step away from his enticing maleness. â€œI was just thinking that I havenâ€™t heard that song since the night of my prom.â€
His blue gaze slid to her mouth. What if he tried to kiss her? Would she let him? Yes, a voice said in her mind. No, her more rational side answered.
â€œWant to dance?â€
Not a good idea. Her pheromones were already running amok. â€œI donâ€™t think I remember how.â€ Darn it, her voice had a breathless quality she was unable to control.
Nick moved closer and slid one arm around her waist. Only a dizzying current of lustful awareness separated their bodies. â€œSure you do.â€ His soft statement stirred her desire. â€œItâ€™s just like making love. Once you get busyÂ …Â all the moves come rushing back.â€
Heat curled through her belly at the sound of his deep, sexy voice and the way he wrapped his tongue around the words â€œmaking love.â€ A sudden vision of what he might look like naked popped into her brain and her heart rate kicked into overdrive. She shook away the image, trying desperately to shift her emotions back to solid ground again. Just because the guy was a definite turn-on didnâ€™t mean she had to do anything about it, right?
Nick locked eyes with her and seemed to probe to her very soul. The air between them grew thick with tension. Her pulse throbbed and her heart shuddered with desire. He was getting to her. His eyes, his mouth, everything about him tempted her senses. She needed to get away from his irresistible male attraction before she did something they would both regret.
Before she could pull out of his embrace, Nick grasped her right hand and lifted her arm before easing her into a slow dance. Little wings of sexual need beat steadily in her stomach. Warmth from his hand burned through hers and into her body. Her breath grew shallow and her knees felt weak as Nick kept his gaze directly on hers. The music slowed as the song ended. He crowded her next to a table and stopped. When he removed his arm from around her waist, she suddenly felt cold.
With delicate precision, he traced around her mouth with his finger. His breath fanned over her lips. Hopeâ€™s throat grew tight and her mouth tingled. For a minute, she imagined him caressing her not just with his finger, but his whole handÂ –Â no, make that body. What was she thinking?
Slowly, he lifted the hand he still held gently in his and kissed her palm with just a hint of tongue. Her stomach slid to her toes.
â€œThanks for the dance.â€