Those Warm Fuzzy Feelings

There’s something special about falling in love. As humans, we fall in love over the strangest things. A kitten or puppy wiggles it’s way file0001169088618kitteninto our hearts, but so do other things, inanimate things. We fall in love with the new outdoor grill, a pair of boots, or even a sweater. I have no idea why these things spark something deep inside of us, but they do. Somehow things produce those warm, fuzzy feelings. We like warm and fuzzy.

But what about the warm fuzzy feelings another human produces? Maybe that’s the best sensation of all. We’ve been taught to be monogamous and most of us are. Or are we? Don’t we all want a happily ever after? But reality steps in and the years weigh on us.

We want evenings of wine and roses, moonlit nights, warm sunny days and crystal clear water in which to play. Instead of riding off into the sunset, we get leaky roofs, dirty diapers, bosses who file0001723583245parisact as if we can’t do simple math, flat tires, and mountains made out of molehills. Louboutin heels and Versace dresses become unattainable dreams. Birthdays are heralded with a card and if we are lucky, maybe dinner out. What happened to Parisian candlelight dinners with a violinist to serenade us?

We dream of something better where the grass is always greener and never requires cutting. As our spouse snores lightly beside us, we pick up a book. For a little while, we are no longer ourselves. We can travel to distant planets, run with wolves, chase submarines, fight wars, or fall into the arms of the handsome stranger. I’d rather fall into those arms.

Sometimes his hair is as dark as a moonless night. His eyes are the blue-green color of the turbulent sea. He reaches out to us and we accept his hand. He pulls us close. Our cheek rests against his broad chest. He smells like a man. The aroma of pine and cedar create a woodsy scent. His hand slowly travels our back, sending a wave of heat to our very core.

Our hands have locked behind his neck. His lips have found ours. Soft and warm they slant over our mouth, teasing us. The passion inside us grows. We feel his want and it is mutual. We’ve crossed the line. We’re in love.

I only meant to read a few pages, then turn out the light and sleep. I can’t. I can’t stop reading. I can feel those arms around me, holding me, keeping me safe. Oxytocin is flowing through my system. The feelings are primal. I keep reading. I must read.

He has to save me from the dragon’s jaws of death. Panicked, I read as he wields his sword to save me. He’s handsome and strong. Muscles bulge. The mighty sword has been knocked from his hands, yet his confidence continues. He pulls a small knife from its sheath and buries it into the neck of the great dragon. The roar is deafening as the dragon falls.

I reach the end and I want to cry. I’m not ready to put my dark-haired hero away. He’s too wonderful. For only in a book, can I escape the realities of life. I put the book on the nightstand and turn out the light. The warm fuzzy feeling lingers.

Still cocooned in that love, I snuggle against the man that I really love. I’ve fallen in love again and it feels wonderful. He’s sound asleep but senses my presence. He rolls over and wraps an arm around me. His warm breath flows over my neck and down my back. I bring his fingers to my lips and kiss them. The hair on his forearms is soft and it tickles. It matches the hair on his chest that trails into a thin line that leads to heaven. He makes a low guttural sound. Is he still asleep?

No. He no longer sleeps, although he’s not totally awake. His lips have found mine. In the quiet of the night, he makes his move. He’s not that handsome stranger in the book. He’s that man that I chose so long ago. There are no flowery words or whispered endearments. Just primitive feelings and it is glorious.

Two people who know each other’s moves. There is no need for words, for it’s all in the touch. He is man, taking what is rightfully his and I willingly give it to him for he is my man and I love him. Our hearts race and our breath quickens. For those fleeting seconds our souls meet.

It is late and we are exhausted. He rolls onto his back. I find that soft spot where his arm meets his chest and I rest my head there. One arm is tucked at his side and the other crosses his hip bones. It’s a natural position. He has begun to snore, that soft, muted sound of a satiated male.

I am monogamous, except when reading a book. I’ve sailed to the South Seas with a captain, headed west in a wagon, I’ve been captured by Indians, belly danced for sheikhs, ate grapes while on the Nile, married a Spanish prince and an English lord, and been kidnapped by pirates. But each time, I come back to the man I love.

I close my eyes and my hand drifts over my husband’s lower belly. The skin is soft. I inhale his natural scent. He is mine and I’m in love. That warm fuzzy feeling washes over me. It blankets me. It will get me through another day.

I have another book calling my name. The cover shows a blond Viking male with green eyes on a sailing ship. Yes, please take me away from my dreary life. There’s always more days than budget for a month. My car door has been scratched, and the blouse I intended to wear tomorrow for work needs to be ironed. There’s no grass skirt, palm fronds, rickshaws, pan flutes, diamonds, or dresses trimmed in gold thread. But I am in love. He’s wrapped me in warm, fuzzy feelings, and life doesn’t get much better than that.

Now, I’m left with memories of those wonderful nights. The warm, fuzzy feeling lingers. It’s imprinted on me. I wonder if I will ever find it with another man. It’s a little like the lottery. You have to buy a ticket if you want to win. I’ve never bought a lottery ticket, and I’ve not gone on a date. Some people spend a lifetime looking for the love that I had. The odds of finding it a second time are pretty slim.

A friend said the only way she’s ever get serious with a guy was if he had a certificate from God and it was notarized by Michael. I know that feeling. But until I get such luck, I’ll continue to write about those warm, fuzzy feelings and falling in love, because it’s the best feeling in the world. Besides it’s safe. Where else but in a book, do you get to do all sorts of wonderful things?

I have two books coming this month. A brand new River City, A Child’s Heart (Trent and Cassie’s Story), and a new western, A Calling in Wyoming..

A Child’s Heart. At eighteen, Trent married as soon as he graduated high school, and a few months later his young wife went into labor. She died giving birth to Shawn. Fast forward four years: Shawn has the same heart defect as his mother and needs surgery, but it’s dangerous, experimental, and the insurance company doesn’t want to pay for it. Trent has given up everything for his son and is now facing his son’s surgery. What he doesn’t expect is to meet the woman of his dreams when he takes his son to see a dinosaur exhibit at the River City Museum. She’s older, a PhD, and she’s fallen madly in love with Shawn and his daddy. She’s got her hands full because the city manager is intent on trading sexual favors for funding for the museum. Trent’s mom has forced Trent to grow up and be a good father to his son. But she’s not thrilled when she discovers that Trent and Cassie are more than just friends. Besides, she needs Trent if she wants to stay in her house. Cassie is more than a minor threat. This is a sexy romance.

A Calling in WyomiWY4b 200 x 300ng will be out this week. Adam Kavika (half Samoan/half Dutch) is on the fast track with a large international beer company. He grew up on a ranch but went east with his parents as a young teen. He was on his way to visit his grandmother’s ranch when he stopped in Creed’s Crossing to visit Neil Jones, the pastor of the small church in town. Except when he arrives, Neil has died, and the community is looking to Adam to fill Neil’s position. Adam likes Creed’s Crossing and enjoys his stay, but he’s got another problem. He’s planning on marrying Lindie Roust and she’s a city girl with a great job. He doesn’t want to give up Lindie. This is a sweet romance.

A Calling in Wyoming was written for my friend’s son. He’s about 27. He looked at me a few months ago and asked me to write a romance for him. I realized he was serious. So the story is not the real Adam, although the real Adam is very handsome, half Samoan, and has strong Christian beliefs. He’s also funny, loves martial arts, works for a beer company, volunteers at his church. So with that in mind, I decided to put his beliefs to the test in my story. I wish I could find him a real Lindie. He deserves a nice girl. No, he hasn’t read it. (He’s waiting for me to release it.) But he does know that I’ve made him a cowboy. Well, not exactly a calf roping cowboy, but a cowboy.

The real Adam thought that was great. He only wanted to know why I put him in Wyoming because he swears there’s nothing there – absolutely nothing for miles and miles and miles and miles. But he was happy when he heard that he got to ride a horse. It was tons of fun writing this western because I had a real life hero to base it on. And I promise, he’s a cutie.

Here’s a snippet from  A Calling in Wyoming:

“Hi, I’m Hope McLean.” She put his beer down in front of him. “You really going to drink this?”

“I work for them.” He stuck his hand out. “Pleased to meet you, Hope McLean.”

She took his hand and then slipped onto the bench across from him. “You work for them? But I thought you were a preacher.”

“I’m the assistant youth pastor at my church. Several members of this community want me to take the reverend’s place.”

“You gonna do it?”

He took a sip of the cold liquid. “Let’s say you are living your dream right now. What would happen if someone offered you a very interesting job, far away from here, that was completely different from what you do, with very little pay. Would you take it?”

“Well, this is no dream job, and getting out of here sounds like fun.”

“Okay, try this. Where you would be going would make Creed’s Crossing look like the big city, and you’d have to take care of a bunch of orphaned children. You’d get paid a stipend and would be given a place to live and food.”

She scrunched up her nose. “What’s a stipend?”

He bit the insides of his cheeks. “Just enough money to cover your personal expenses.” He looked at her perfectly manicured nails with fancy designs on them. “And not enough to have your nails done on a regular basis.”

“No way!”

“But what if that job is what God wants you to do?”

She shook her head.

“Well, God put me here and I’ve got to figure out what He wants me to do.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Good luck.”


She slipped out of the booth and scurried over to her sister.

A minute later, he was served his burger. Yeah, good luck, good karma, God’s Grace. It’s still my decision.

Elizabeth Ayers

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6 Responses to Those Warm Fuzzy Feelings

  1. susanrhughes says:

    Wow, what an evocative post! I think you were born to write romance novels.


  2. leighmorgan1 says:

    Wonderful post. Love the bit about being monogamous except in books. You got me giddy this morning, thanks!


  3. E. Ayers says:

    Find a book and curl up with that hero. It’s really quite safe! And it’s loads of fun.


  4. monarisk says:

    What a wonderful post, E. So well written. I hope you add that fuzzy feeling to one of your novels.


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