Hi, my name is Janice Seagraves, one of the authors in the anthology, Roping the Cowboy.
It is now on preorder at Amazon.
My story is called Follow Your Cowboy Heart.
Its a sweet, one pepper.
This story is inspired by some of the Ag students I knew in HS, and my husband who handed over his paycheck to help his family.
Max the hero is based loosely on a good looking senior (when I was a sophomore) who lost his mom, but in my story he had lost his dad. He wore nice western wear and a cowboy hat. He had black hair he kept short. In my story Max can't afford a hair cut and wears his black hair long and in a ponytail. He doesn't have a lot of nice clothes, but wears his one nice outfit to look for work.
The story is told through Max's POV.
Linda the heroine is based loosely on someone I knew who had became the Barn Queen, but in my story she had been the Homecoming Queen. Her father owns a dairy.
Both Linda and Max are twenty years old in my story, and bump into each other two years after graduation, when Max is looking for a full time job.
Max is from a family of psychics, each with their own particular talent, and Max's talent is animals.
Blurb:Max struggles daily to hide his psychic gift with animals. Being a hired hand at a local dairy probably wasn't his best idea, but his mom needs the money he brings in. And there's the dairy owner's sexy daughter he can't stop thinking about. Will he ever have anything other than himself to offer her?
Linda pressed him against the fence and kissed him, hard. Surprise had him opening his mouth, but it also gave her entrance. Her tongue skimmed across his, and he was lost. He invaded her mouth, pursuing her. His placed his arms around her and pulled her against him, flattening her breasts against his chest. Desire spiraled through him.
She slowly pulled back and snuggled against his chest. “Wow. I always wondered what kissing you would be like.”
Rubbing her back, he noticed a little black bird in the tree limb above them. He whistled, and it cocked its head. He continued to mimic bird song, until the starling flew down and perched on his extended finger.
“How did you do that?” whispered Linda.
“It must be used to humans,” he lied. “Did you know starlings are better mimics then mocking birds?”
“No, I didn’t.” She smiled.
“What do you think of Linda?” he asked the bird. Forming what he wanted the starling to do in his mind.
It did a wolf whistle. Linda giggled.