Sasha Cameron

“He moved to her earlobe and breathed, “First, I will blow, then I will lick, last I will bite.” Blake took his time blowing an elaborate pattern on her stomach, and Livia was pretty sure he’d spelled the word torture.”
― Debra Anastasia, Poughkeepsie

“Blake took her face in his hands. “You let me touch you. Kiss you. Your skin? It feels like piano keys. My hands know just where to go.”
― Debra Anastasia, Poughkeepsie

“He kept his head down in what seemed to be a prayer. “He counts. You’ve smiled at him four hundred and forty-six times as of a few minutes ago. He announces the number every time I see him.”
― Debra Anastasia, Poughkeepsie

“Livia held her spatula as Blake whispered in her ear. “I see us just like this a hundred years from now, old and deaf. I’ll be the luckiest man.”
Emotion caught her—this was all she wanted. Simple, beautiful frittata moments with this man.
“Someday, Livia, I’ll be man enough to buy the food,” he continued. “I’ll give you an oven. I’ll try so hard.”
― Debra Anastasia, Poughkeepsie