Chihuahua Momma By Amy Jarecki

Monday, August 19, 2013

Chihuahua Momma – A dog show romance:

Several people have asked what inspired me to write a romance with a dog show theme. I’ve given a myriad of witty answers—besides who doesn’t love dogs? But the honest truth is, after winning the State 4H championship, my daughter begged me to buy our first show quality Chihuahua. I did my research, drove to Michigan and bought the best dog I could afford…but then my daughter got her driver’s license, a job and a boyfriend. I ended up in showmanship classes and took the little guy into the ring myself. I earned AKC championships with him and a female, and thus emerged this story.

Back cover copy of Chihuahua Momma:

In the frenetic world of canine pageants like Westminster, where dog hair flies and personalities diverge, Rebecca Lee remains in a cocoon of loneliness. Widowed, with two teenaged kids and a business to run, Rebecca would rather mow through five-hundred poodle cuts than think about dating. But when former quarterback Matt Johnson shows up to buy a Chihuahua, his irresistible grin rocks her world—until Matt’s ex decides she wants him back and Rebecca’s daughter decides she’s against her mom dating. Rebecca now has a choice—crawl back into her realm of dogs or fight for the powerful love that fills her soul.


Like all males, this one was a sucker for a back massage and he leaned into her skilled hands with a blissful moan. He arched his back when she found that “spot” and Rebecca chuckled at the dog’s leg-shaking response. She glanced in the mirror over the stainless steel doggie bath. The steam always made Rebecca’s red hair frizz and it tickled her cheeks as she worked suds into the Powder Puff Chinese Crested.

With her teenaged kids at school, Rebecca sang along to the tune of “Uptown Girl” booming from the light-rock station. She sounded pretty good and blasted out the words she knew, substituting “doggie paws” where her memory failed.

Rebecca took her hand off the Crested to swipe the encroaching frizz out of her eyes. Of course the dog took advantage of the freedom and shook, splattering her with water and suds. “Darn you little rascal.” She twitched as doggie bath water dribbled down her face. Glancing at the mirror, she dabbed her cheeks with her shirt sleeve. The suds in her hair would have to wait.

As she reached for the warm water spray hose, a muffled doorbell rang. Her eyes shot to a plastic black-and-white Chihuahua clock, its tail wagging to the tick of each half-second. Damn, ten minutes early and he’s at the wrong door. Can’t people read the sign? She fastened the grooming loop on the Crested and folded up the side panel of the bath to ensure the dog’s safety.

Dashing from her studio, she opened the door of her Southern New Jersey home. With a sharp jolt, her breath caught as a friendly grin and sky-blue eyes gazed down at her.

“Hi, I’m Matt Johnson.”

Rebecca stood motionless. Her mouth hung open, her mind unable to focus.


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