Follow Your Cowboy Heart by Janice Seagraves

I had fun writing this short story. The Character of Max was actually based on my husband. He's dark headed (or used to be) and worked hard for his family growing up. Giving all his money to his sister to help run the household. My husband's story differs in that he left to join the Navy and later on married me.

In my story, Max is grown, still lives at home and works hard, giving all his money to his mom to keep the farm and home running. After his father passed away, his mom had been managing things--badly.  Max finds out exactly how badly as the story progresses. He wonders if he'll have to stay forever and keep his family from losing the farm.

And what about his future?


FOLLOW YOUR COWBOY HEART by Janice Seagraves
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Chili Peppers Rating: 1

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?

Except:
“Max. I’ve been looking for you.” Linda took his hand, and an electrical sensation flowed up his arm. “Let’s step over here.”
“But I…”
“Only for a couple minutes. Your sisters can spare you that long.” She dragged him away to the Galloway’s backyard. The tall fence blocked off some of the noise from the party, giving them the illusion of privacy.
She 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. He 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.
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