Amanda Vodicka

“Oscar pushed a strand of her loose raven hair behind her ear, and Camille knew she hadn’t completely failed. The man she loved, and who loved her, was alive when, under all normal circumstance, he shouldn’t be. How could that be seen as failure?
“You know, and I know.” Oscar paused to take a breath. “William would never have approved of us being together.”
He held his eyes level with hers, as if trying to detect any flicker of doubt or apprehension in her.
“We won’t be tying bait bags for a living, will we?” she asked, willing to give up her wealth, her good name, but never her dignity.
Oscar laughed. “No bait bags.”
“Well, of that my father would at least approve. And even if he didn’t,” she said with a sly grin, “I do.”
She rose to the tips of her toes and kissed him.
“Oy, lovebirds!” Ira shouted from the ground. He and Samuel had reached the base and now looked into the sunlight, shielding their eyes with the planes of their hands. “Should I build a campfire and start sending smoke signals? Here we are, beasties! Come have lunch!”
Oscar’s familiar sarcasm slipped back into place. “No smoke signals needed, Ira, the shouting will do just fine.”
He released his arms from around her waist, and Camille reluctantly let him go, too. He descended the first boulder. “I’ll go first, in case you slip.”
Oscar’s eyes came level with Camille’s ratty wool stockings. He looked up at her, his dimples as irresistible as the first time she’d seen them.
“Well, at least it’s an improvement from bare feet,” he said.
Camille wiggled her toes, laughing. She started down the mound of boulders toward the world that lay ahead, her footing sure and steady.”
― Angie Frazier, Everlasting

“I’ll need a deposit, of course. I think that’s where your ring comes in handy.” Ira extended his open hand toward Camille. She took off the sapphire and slapped it into his palm.
“And McGreenery?” Oscar asked. Ira nodded and threw his hat back on. He pulled it tight and grinned from ear to ear.
“Leave him to me, mates. I’ll meet you at the blacksmith’s in town tomorrow morning, eight o’clock sharp.”
Oscar took a step closer, towering over Ira. “If you’re not there, I’ll find you. And you don’t want me to have to find you.”
Ira cleared his throat and pulled the brim of his hat. “Then I better not oversleep.”
He swiveled on his heel with the same lighthearted air Camille had loved about her father and strolled back down the road. The similarity to her father ended there.”
― Angie Frazier, Everlasting

“Oscar’s breath warmed the back of her head, his lips brushing against her hair, loosened from a braid. He drew a lock away from her neck and kissed the skin just beneath her earlobe, against the throb of her quickening pulse. Like the blackness outside the dome of lamplight, there seemed to be nothing more in the world than his lips, his touch, and the flood of heat consuming her.
With a gentle nudge, Oscar turned her toward him. He looked at her the way he had in the Grampains meadow-as if she was the most fascinating woman he’d ever seen. Under his gaze she felt fascinating, too. Capivating…wanted. He traced her jaw with his lips, kissing the angle of her neck ever so tenderly, as though he weren’t certain she wanted him, too. Camille closed the inch of space left between them, her body pressing against his. The muscles in his chest and arms tightened. He was wanted, and she needed to show him how much. No one was there to watch, no one to judge, or tell her the lips caressing her were unworthy of tasting her skin.
With those very thoughts, Oscar’s grip loosened. His lips retreated.
“This isn’t right,” he whispered, catching his breath.
Camille stared at him, her hurt and disappointment plain on her face.
“You’re engaged, Camille.” He looked around the room. His eyes rested on the bed. “I shouldn’t be here.”
All of a sudden, Camille completely and fully detested Randall. Good, sweet, well-meaning Randall infuriated her with his mere existence, with his big sapphire ring and his marriage proposal and his bright, wealthy future as the savior of Rowen & Company. She didn’t want any of it if it meant she couldn’t have Oscar’s kisses, the return of his hands, and his body pressed close to her own.
“I want you here,” she said, the words unable to express the desires stampeding her mind.
Oscar licked his lips but stepped toward the doorway. “I can’t. If you’re going to marry Randall-“
Camille hushed him. “No, don’t. Please, don’t.” She didn’t want to hear Randall’s name coming from Oscar’s lips, not when she so desperately wanted to kiss them.
“He’s not here. And you are, and…what if you stayed?” she asked, unable to believe the words had come from her mouth. He lost the tense hold of his shoulders and stared at her with disbelief.
“Nothing improper, of course,” she added quickly. “What if you just stayed until…until I fell asleep?”
Citrus and cloves charged through her sense with their dizzying effect as Oscar stepped back inside the room.
He tilted his head and looked sideways at her. “Just until you fall asleep?”
She nodded, her throat too tight with nerves to speak.”
― Angie Frazier, Everlasting