Do you remember when you were young and foolish and first fell in love? There was no feeling quite like it. Ah, the exhilieration, the pitter patter of your heart, the blush on your cheeks when that certain some passed by. The hours of waiting for the telephone call, or the letter. The anxiety, the pleasure, all those wonderful adrenalin rushing feelings that are a blessing and a curse...if he turns you down, they definitely are the latter.
Ah well, all gone now. I am not likely to fall in love again like that - but I do go half way with the men in fiction. I love Harry Bosch (Michael Connolly's detective). I know I am the woman he is waiting for if only he knew. He chooses the most unsuitable women, I can see it going wrong before it even starts. Also I have a thing for Kathy Reich's Andrew Ryan, that Temp woman just does not deserve him. Always wondering whether she wants to be with him or not, stupid woman! Kathy O Connor's underwear modeling detective Sunny Cloud gives me goose bumps too, just the kind of guy I could really fall for. Look, Sunny I am waving at you, can't you see me?
Are the men in literature actually better than those in reality? Ha ha, I aint saying.
As to that certain thrill, well I get it sometimes, especially when I have written a book and it has been accepted, but the bigger thrill comes with receiving that book. Opening the first page, pressing it to my nose and smelling that unique and fresh, tantalizing scent. Bliss!