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Blog Tour & Giveaway: My Heartache Cowboy by Z.A. Maxfield

Jan 30, 2014

My Three Guilty Pleasure Television Shows and Why I Love Them 
This is how I goof off. 

 1. Teen Wolf

 My number one guilty TV pleasure is Teen Wolf. What’s not to love about beautiful young men and women who turn into monsters, who must keep their awful secrets even as they negotiate the murky waters of adolescent emotional turmoil and bodies on hormone overdrive.

There is so much wonderful fanfic about Teen Wolf, so much great fan art, and so many awesome fan made videos. he entire Internet is a Teen Wolf hall of mirrors -- the fun goes on and on and on forever. I got caught up with my daughter and her friends back when they were in high school. Now I sneak a peek every now and again even though she’s not here.

2. Hoarders

I recently found out Hoarders is on its last season and that made me sad. I watch hoarders for two reasons. On is that I find stories of redemption very satisfying, and the other is that it makes me feel guilty enough to clean my house.

As a rule, I don’t watch a ton of television. But there are times when I’m working on a story where I might feel powerless, or where I have a million ideas clamoring in my head and I can’t seem to find the focus to choose the best one. At those time it’s easier if I stop and dosomething else for a while, preferably something that will help me break through the wall I’ve built between me and the answers I need.

There’s such a thing as emotional clutter, and I have an awful lot of that. When I’m watching Hoarders, I guess it helps me put things into perspective. Plus actively focusing on someone else’s problem and cheering them on to their ultimate success can often break a mental logjam for me.

3. Merlin

“In a land of myth and a time of magic…” there was a show where a guy kept making amazing things happen and no one EVER realized he was a sorcerer, not even when his eyes turned red and they saw him making it rain Unicorns. I LOVE this show. I love the absurdly romantic relationship between Merlin and Arthur. I love slashing them as a couple even though the show definitely had a viable Guinevere. I love Morgana, who took every opportunity to chew up the scenery. Whose greed for power and revenge had such a lustful bent I was often embarrassed watching it. I loved the villainous Uther, played by Buffy’s Giles, who did everything but twirl his nonexistent mustachios and laugh bwah, ha, ha…

And I love that every time I hear John Hurt now, I picture Merlin’s chained-up Dragon friend (or Quentin Crisp.)

The Merlin series is done,  but as with Teen Wolf there is such a wonderful fandom out there I can find something new whenever I need a little extra jolt of Merlin’s Magic.

Most of the time I spend my day hard at work writing. But on the days when I’m in trouble, or my mind just isn’t on it, I find a lot of comfort in watching these shows, and others like them. Whether I’m clearing out the mental clutter, or reluctant to write the words that will lead to “The End” it always helps to have a back-up plan.

Thanks so much for inviting me to be here. I am so glad to be able to share my latest release, "My Heartache Cowboy", and some of my quirks, with your readers.

My Heartache Cowboy
(Cowboy Series, Bk #2)
By Z.A. Maxfield

Can love conquer all?

Jimmy Rafferty and Eddie Molina go way back at the J-Bar ranch. They’ve worked together, bunked together, camped out, and drank together. So how has Jimmy failed to notice that Eddie is gay? Eddie has not failed to notice that his friend has a serious drinking problem, and he’s determined to help Jimmy kick the booze cold turkey.

Taking him up to a snowbound cabin to detox, Eddie is confronted with Jimmy’s fierce denial. But the pains of withdrawal are nothing for Jimmy compared with the heartache of denying his true feelings and his deep longing…for the one man who cares for him more than anyone else on earth.

Available for purchase at 



When I woke, I was alone and the truck wasn’t moving.

Who the hell did Eddie think he was, leaving me asleep by myself in a truck outside in the freezing cold? My pa and my older brother, Jonas, used to do that. We’d be on the road, and when I fell asleep, they’d leave me in the parking lot of some dive bar or motel—just leave me asleep outside in the dark. I’d wake up with no clue where I was, no idea if they were coming back or if I should go in and try to find them.

My first useful thought was to look for the keys, because I hadn’t forgotten what Eddie said. I hadn’t forgotten the plans him and boss Malloy made for me behind my back. It would serve them right if I up and hightailed it back to the J-Bar with Eddie’s truck and no Eddie.

No keys.

Not like that was going to stop me. Where the hell did Eddie get the idea I’d go quietly? I slid over and tore the wiring out from under the dash. Found what I needed without hardly even looking.

I hated waking up alone like that. Unwanted. Abandoned.

One twist. Two. Touch the wires together and the engine should . . .



What the hell? I checked I got the proper color-coated strands and tried again. I was frowning down at the mess of tangled wire when someone tapped on the window behind me.

I glanced up and saw Eddie frowning down, no doubt pissed at what I’d done to his truck. Serves you right for leaving me like that, you prick.

“You need a working engine for that,” he told me as he opened the door. “One that has a battery.”

“Fuck you.” I spilled out of the car ready for a fistfight.

“What?” Eddie jumped back.

“Why did you have to leave me like that? What did I ever do to you?”

Eddie shook his head at me. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. You were sound asleep and I thought maybe you needed it.”

I took a swing at him. “I hate waking up alone in a car like that.”

Ed plucked my fist from the air and peered at me like he was trying to see through my skin. “I didn’t know.”

“I hate that. Left behind in the car like a damn dog. Like a fucking duffel bag. You can’t be bothered to even wake me up and take me in out of the fucking snow.”

Now Eddie frowned like he was thinking about it. Now, after the fact. “I’m sorry, Jimmy. I didn’t think how you’d feel waking up alone like that. I won’t do it again.”

“Would have served you right if I took your truck and left you up here to walk back to civilization, wherever the hell that is. Would have served you right if I’d died out here.”

“All right, all right. Simmer down now.”

I glared at him. “Fuck you.”

“It’s pretty civilized inside. How about you come in with me.”

“How about you suck my fucking—”

“That’s enough.” He turned and headed toward the cabin’s welcoming front door. “I almost didn’t bother to disable the damn thing, but I thought on the off chance you knew what you were doing and could—”

“Which I did,” I pointed out.

“Come inside.” He jerked his chin toward the cabin like I was a dog and I was supposed to just follow along and yip around at his heels.

I debated making a run at him, but frankly, Eddie was a tough buzzard. He wasn’t too much older than me, just forty-two compared to my thirty-eight. But I was a lover, not a fighter, or at least that’s how I thought of myself. Back there on the road, Eddie had proved he wasn’t above using violence to get his way in this, so I went along.

You’re going to have to sleep sometime.

Eddie led me into a rustic-looking cabin that seemed awful nice for the middle of nowhere. There was a place for us to hang our hats just inside the door, over a table with a passel of pictures on it. There were old time black-and-whites of families and framed pictures of a good-looking man, a pretty woman, and some kids. There were some of the kids alone, and holy cow, there were probably a dozen pictures of Ed. He looked so young in a couple of them, they must have been from before we met.

One of Ed and the unknown man caught my eye. Something about the difference in height, the casual way they leaned together, the way they looked at each other, made me think this was Ed’s friend from the road, Don. Even though they’d both aged some since it was taken, I was almost sure of it.

No knobby hands, no weathered angel, this Don was good looking, without a doubt. He was lanky and chiseled. He had an intelligent face and a smile that drew the eye. He seemed sure of himself and charming. Whatever I’d seen in the darkness outside the car had to be a trick of the light.

Ed looked so young and earnest next to him it took my breath away. Brawny and tan, he wore a yoked Western shirt with the sleeves rolled up past well-muscled forearms and he eyed Don like he would follow him anywhere.

And that Don, he looked like he could appreciate a guy like Ed, as well.

Hadn't I seen firsthand how much he did appreciate him?

About the Author

Z. A. Maxfield started writing in 2007 on a dare from her children and never looked back.  Pathologically disorganized, and perennially optimistic, she writes as much as she can, reads as much as she dares, and enjoys her time with family and friends. Three things reverberate throughout all her stories: Unconditional love, redemption, and the belief that miracles happen when we least expect them.

If anyone asks her how a wife and mother of four can find time for a writing career, she’ll answer, “It’s amazing what you can accomplish if you give up housework.”

You can find ZA Maxfield at 



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