Wow...it's been a long time since I've written a blog. I don't know why I don't keep up with them. Although, I guess part of it's because I don't get many readers. Also, I'm a fairly private person so writing a daily or even weekly blog is like putting myself out there for scrutiny. But, if I think about it...being a writer does that anyway. Oh, I've just thought of another reason I don't blog often....I tend to babble. 
Anyway...this has been a crazy year so far and has kind of put a damper on my writing. First, I didn't make the deadline I promised another writer I would make for my novel House of Cards. And, being so discouraged with that and the book, I've decided to shelf it for now....who knows I may go back to it...or even work on it at the same time I'm working on my sequel to Dark Obsession (tentatively titled Body & Soul). Hey, that worked when I wrote Forget Me Not...so, why not?? Another reason for my absense if that my daughter got sick unexpectedly. Shortly after New Years she was hospitalized and we found out she now has Type 1 diabetes. She's been on insulin for about a month but her numbers haven't improved much. They doctor thinks she may be insulin resistant so he has her on some pills as well. Her numbers are still off, but not nearly as bad. So....if you're a praying sort, keep her in your prayers.
Anyway....going back to what I mentioned about House of Cards, the author who gave me the deadline is currently promoting his current release so go on out and pick up your copy today! Which brings me to the point of my blog....hence the title Tell Her About It (yeah, that's a song...can you guess who sings it?)
When a writer sells a book the first neuroses that hits is...will anyone like it? Then we think....will anyone buy it?? The first question is a bit superfluous since it someone didn't like it, it wouldn't have sold (but writers are notoriously neurotic, so...there ya go.) But the second statement...will anyone buy it....is a haunting question that never goes away. Even with all the promotions and appearances...it's still a crap shoot. One of the ways an author hopes to make a sale is by word of mouth. If someone reads the book and loves it so much they tell a friend, who tells a friend, who tells a friend....you get the point...then before you know it, you're on the best seller list. I don't expect that to happen for my book, it's an e-publisher and they don't reach those type of eyes...but I'd like to at least see more favorable sales. So...I am planning to give away a free copy of my book to the first five people who promise to blog about it (provided they like the book that is) and help me with promotion. I will even be more than happy to make an appearance at their blogs. So, if you're interested in taking this challenge, please drop me an email at TerriMo2@yahoo.com and let me know if you'd like a copy of the book. It is a comtemporary, sensual, and very romantic romance....so Adults only, please. 
Below is the opening chapter to whet your appetite.
Chapter One
“Are you sure you don’t mind closing up for me?” Anita asked her assistant, Berta, as she scooped her purse from the desk drawer.
The young woman waved her off. “No, not at all. It’s only a couple more hours. Besides, I don’t think we’re going to get a mad rush of people wanting carnations,” she said with a grin. “Now, go on and get ready for your date with Officer Hottie.”
“It isn’t a date. I’m just making him dinner,” Anita said. “He goaded me into it.”
“Yeah, right. And you don’t have the least bit of interest in him,” Berta said with a dubious nod.
“No, I don’t. I can barely even stand the man’s company.” Anita frowned at her friend. “Would you stop with the mmm hmm’s?”
Berta held up her hands and shrugged. “I’m just saying the way he looks at you...you’d have to be blind not to see it.”
“There’s nothing to see. I’ve known Tony for almost twenty years. He’s an arrogant son of a bitch who thinks he knows everything.”
“And you, being so proud, can’t resist proving him wrong. It has absolutely nothing to do with that killer body or those bedroom eyes,” Berta said.
“I’ve never noticed.”
Berta laughed, nodding her head. “Oh, yeah that was convincing.”
Anita grinned and adjusted her purse strap over her shoulder. “I’ll see you Monday.” She made it to the door before stopping. “Oh shoot! I forgot Mr. Jimenez is supposed to drop off some more of his vases.”
Berta stepped forward and placed her hands on Anita’s shoulders, turning her back to face the door. “I can handle Mr. Jimenez. I did work for your grandfather for a couple of years before you took over the place. Now go make yourself sexy for your date. And I want to hear all the horny details Monday.”
“It’s not a date!” Anita said before the door closed behind her. “He tricked me into it. Just like he always does,” she added with a frown.
Damn that Antonio Hernandez! In all the years she’d known him, he’d looked for ways to tease her into some sort of debate, and she would have a determined need to prove him wrong, never realizing until later that he’d been setting her up.
She slid into her car and thought about how he’d cornered her in her grandmother’s kitchen two days earlier. He’d been mowing the lawn and came in for a drink. When he noticed her at the stove, he started speaking in Spanish, smirking when she didn’t respond.
“It’s a shame you have so little respect for your heritage,” he said, shaking his head.
“Just because I don’t speak Spanish, doesn’t mean I’m any less a Mexican.”
“You can’t even make a simple plate of migas,” he said, gesturing toward the mess of eggs sticking to the skillet.
“I can cook as well as you,” Anita returned.
Tony stepped closer, caging her in against the counter, a mischievous gleam in his dark brown eyes.
“Yeah? Prove it. You can cook me dinner Saturday night.”
Wisps of black hair draped his forehead. The smell of freshly cut grass clung to his skin, mixing with his own musky scent. She silently cursed her libido for reacting as if she’d been hit with a flamethrower.
“I don’t have to prove anything to you,” she said, glaring up at him.
Tony’s smile was crooked and every bit as cocky. “That’s what I thought.” He leaned in, his mouth inches from hers. “You’re afraid to be alone with me,” he said in Spanish. His smile spread when her eyes hardened. “Prove me wrong,” he said, switching back to English. “Saturday night. My place.” He stole a kiss then caught her arm when her hand came up to slap him.
“You only get to do that once,” he said then left her alone in the kitchen.
Jerk!
Anita laid her hand against the quiver in her stomach. It was the second time since she’d known Tony that he’d kissed her. The first time was after he had the nerve to tell her to break off her engagement to Paul.
Arrogant bastard.
It didn’t matter that he’d been right about her ex-husband. Antonio Hernandez had no right to tell her whom she should or should not marry, and she’d told him so with a slap across the face.
She spotted the state trooper’s car and felt the flutter of anticipation settle in her stomach.
So what if Tony is a handsome man, she thought. And so what if the taste of him had stayed in her senses and sent her hormones in an uproar. It didn’t mean she would go against her principles and date a Mexican. It’s not that she’s prejudiced; after all she’s full-blooded Mexican herself. But she had seen how domineering the men in the Valley are to their wives, and she refused to allow a man to tell her what to do. The dinner tonight was to prove a point, not become a couple.
He’d called her a gringa, she thought with disgust. Just because she’d been raised in Chicago and didn’t know Spanish or how to make tamales didn’t make her any less Mexican did it?
Regardless, it was her own pride that had her agreeing to cook him dinner. He told her she had lost all respect for herself by losing respect for her heritage. Maybe it was true, but it wasn’t because she didn’t respect her heritage. She had come back to the valley hadn’t she? Okay, so maybe inheriting her grandfather’s flower shop had been a deciding factor, but it wasn’t the only reason. She’d also come here to take back what was stripped from her when her parents decided to raise her in Chicago.
She’d spent every summer in the Rio Grande Valley from the time she turned twelve until she married at twenty-one. It was only natural that she would return when her life was such a mess.
And it had nothing to do with Antonio Hernandez!
* * * * *
Antonio watched the little Ford Escort pull away from the curb in front of the flower shop and considered switching on his lights just to give Anita a fright. If they weren’t already set to have dinner later, he would have stopped her for some sort of traffic violation just to steal a few minutes alone.
They’d first met nearly twenty years ago when she’d spent her first summer with her grandparents. He’d never really paid much attention to her until a couple of summers later when she’d spent the day helping his mother make tamales to sell to the migrant workers.
Anita had argued with him about something ridiculous and, after several more debates, he’d suddenly found himself falling madly in love with her. Although she was only fourteen at the time and he had just graduated high school. He would never have lived it down if his buddies had found out he’d had fallen for a girl barely on the cusp of womanhood. But he didn’t want to chance losing her, so when she came to town he spent whatever time he could at her grandparents’ house doing odd jobs for the elderly couple and finding ways to irritate Anita so she would notice him.
A smile curved his lips. He wondered if she were still pouting about making him dinner tonight. After all, he did trick her into it by inferring she had no respect for her Mexican heritage, not that he really believed it. But that was the fun of dealing with Anita; she would take whatever criticisms he threw at her and try to prove him wrong.
The Escort slowed at the stop sign and continued through the intersection.
Antonio shook his head with a laugh. He’d let that one go this time. After all, giving Anita a ticket would ruin his plan to have her fall in love with him.