G I V E A W A Y   E N D E D

Synopsis:

Quicksand is a series of stand alone stories based on love, sex, and romance. You can’t fight your way out of quicksand, and you can’t fight your way out of love. Books four, five, and six are available in this box set!

NIGHT AND DAY
Are they just two people on the rebound seeking comfort in each other’s arms?

When Tamika Jones arrives at the apartment on Hargrove Street, she expects to find her boyfriend, the money he stole, and the woman he cheated on her with. Instead, she finds Anton Bevins, a young attorney, who’s good-looking, bewildered by her appearance, and also a victim. The two end up in a sexy, fun-loving relationship that takes them both by surprise, but is it really love?

WHAT SHE DESERVES
Fiery passion wages a war between two destined hearts.

Layla Fleming may miss the toe-curling nights between the sheets with Rashad Greene, but it took a long time for her heart to heal. So when she sees the cocky playboy years later, she ignores his advances and moves on. With the first glimpse, Rashad knows he must have Layla back in his bed, but he still holds a dark secret and worries the chemistry between them will fizzle if she knows the truth.

THE FRIEND ZONE
Their friendship is strong. Their attraction is stronger.

For years, English professor Dana Lindstrom has been crushing on her friend, ex-NFL football player Omar Bradford. When another man sparks her interest, she embarks on a new relationship to help her get over those feelings. When Dana’s new love interest stirs intense jealousy, Omar will risk their friendship to show her once and for all he’s the only man she’ll ever need.

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EXCERPTS:

Excerpt 1 – Night and Day
Bang. Bang. Bang.

Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Anton rolled onto his back and squinted against the sunlight coming in through the curtains.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The noise was coming from the front door. Someone was knocking. Loud.

Rolling onto his side with a groan, he checked the clock beside the bed. Seven-thirty on a Saturday morning. What the hell? Who would—

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Irritated, he tossed off the sheets and marched to the door with angry strides. The person on the other side better be dying, or they’d be getting their butt kicked.

Though upset, he took the precaution of peering out the peephole to see who was attacking his door and was taken aback when he saw the petite woman out front. Wearing a baseball cap low on her head, he could tell she was attractive even through the distorted lens and the angry pucker of her lips.

“Open the door, Calvin!” she screamed. “I know you’re in there, and I’m not going anywhere, so you might as well come out.” She started banging with her fist again.

How could someone so small make that much noise?

Anton swung open the door and her hand remained suspended in the air, mid-bang. Her eyebrows winged together in a startled expression, and then her gaze traveled from his bare chest, down his pajama pants, to his bare feet. His skin tingled everywhere she looked, as surely as if she’d dragged her palms down his chest.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“I should be asking you that question. I live here, not this Calvin person you’re looking for. You have the wrong address.”

She smirked. “Nice try. I know he doesn’t live here, but I know he’s here with that b*tch.” She then lifted a baseball bat he hadn’t seen through the peephole, over her right shoulder, as if she were standing at the plate ready to swing.

Anton’s hands lifted in defense. “Whoa, hold on. There’s no Calvin here, and I don’t know who the b*tch—I mean, woman—is that you’re looking for.”

One sculpted brow lifted above her skeptical dark eyes. Despite the volatile situation, he couldn’t help appraising her features. When was the last time he’d seen anyone quite so… stunning? With a round face, high cheekbones, and catlike eyes that glared at him but managed to look sensuous at the same time. Her nose tilted slightly upward at the tip, and her full, thick lips could be too much on the wrong face, but settled on hers in a way that drew the eye and made him temporarily forget the damage she could do with that bat nestled on her shoulder.

She wore a red top that, well… it was rather revealing, exposing her midriff and showing off the dark walnut of her flat stomach and the white-gold belly ring nested in her navel. He had to force himself to look at her face and keep his gaze there, which wasn’t an easy task.

Anton swallowed hard to beat back the lust that reared its head as he admired nature’s handiwork.

“Sure you don’t know them. Unless you want some of this”—she waved the bat—“I suggest you get out of my way and let me handle my business.”

“This is my apartment,” Anton insisted.

These gated communities weren’t worth the money. Why pay extra when it was so easy for crazy people to slip in behind someone else, like this psycho obviously had?

“Calvin!” the stranger screamed. When she tried to shove past him, Anton slammed his hand on the doorframe.

“Listen,” he said, lowering his voice to a lethal level, “I don’t need you waking up my neighbors and causing me problems, all right? This is my apartment. I’m not telling you again. There is no Calvin here. This is 2516 Hargrove Street Apt C. You have the wrong address.”

Bad enough she’d woken him up out of bed after a long week, but now she was getting on his nerves with her insistence of trying to get past him to find this Calvin dude.

“No, I do not have the wrong address. Tell me this, do you know who Melissa is?”

Shock jolted Anton’s back ramrod straight. “Melissa?”

The stranger smirked knowingly. “You do know her. Where is she? Tell her I want to talk.” She tapped the bat in her left palm, looking like anything but someone who only wanted to talk.

Excerpt 2 – What She Deserves
She started moving again, walking faster this time to escape him and this conversation she didn’t want to have. His long legs easily kept stride with hers, exerting little effort, as if he were out for a leisurely stroll. 

“You sound like you don’t believe me,” Rashad said.

“That’s because I don’t. You’re only interested in one thing.”

“How exactly did you come to that conclusion?”

Layla side-eyed him. “Past experience is the best indicator of future performance.”

Rashad grabbed her arm, and the warmth of his fingers seared her skin through the lightweight jacket. She wanted to yank away, but couldn’t. He was touching her again, like last night. The memory of his fingers around her wrist was as vivid as the fingers wrapped around her arm right now. 

“And you don’t miss it?” he asked. 

“Miss what?”

Rashad backed her against the brick wall of a building, uncaring they were in the middle of the street with the occasional pedestrian walking by. 

Eyes boring into hers, his voice dropped. “You know what.”

Layla’s belly quivered, denial burning on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t speak the lie. Of course she missed it, them. The way they used to be together.

Rashad’s lovemaking skills were unmatched, and they used to damn near burn up the bed when they made love. She could never get enough of him, and whenever they went too long without seeing each other, she ached until she could see him, touch him, press her body against his.

Instead of answering, she tilted her chin higher. “Is that why you came here? To see if I missed it?”

“I came here to see you, but I am curious about that part.” His nostrils flared for a split second before he shook his head and let out a deep breath. “Sh*t. Let’s try again. Contrary to what you believe, I do care. So tell me, how have you been, Layla?”

She dropped her gaze and had a sudden urge to burst into tears. She shook off his hand. How could such a simple question make her feel so weepy? How could he so easily break down her tough girl act and make her feel vulnerable and helpless with a few words of interest?

“Fine,” she replied. She lifted her gaze again, and he continued to stare at her with concern in his eyes. 

“And your family?”

“Fine. How about you?”

“Been better. Miss my friend. Miss my lover.”

“Don’t.”

“Why?”

“Because…” 

He waited. 

“Because a clean break is what I wanted.”

“I know, and you got that clean break, right? You lied and pretended you were moving to D.C.”

Layla opened her mouth to deny the accusation, but he briefly lifted a finger to quiet her.

“Don’t deny it. We both know it’s true.” 

She fell silent and gazed at a couple across the street. The man had his arm around the woman, and they were laughing as they walked and talked. They looked so happy. That used to be her and Rashad, before he asked to downgrade their relationship. 

“I understand why you did it. Because we were intense, and if we kept in touch, you’d give in to me again.”

“You’re overestimating your appeal.”

“That’s not what the little pulse right here says.” He lifted a finger to her neck, and she slapped away his hand. 

“You have a very high opinion of yourself.”

“But am I right?” 

With a heated glower, she refused to admit her weakness for him. “Believe it or not, you can’t get everything you want, Rashad.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Since when?” Raw arrogance took over his body, and the mocking light in his eyes set her teeth on edge. As far as he was concerned, nothing was beyond his reach if he worked hard enough.

“Since now.”

Excerpt 3 – The Friend Zone
Omar applied gentle pressure with his thumbs and slowly rubbed the top of Dana’s foot before moving lower to massage the arch. Her feet were soft and her nails painted bright orange. He’d never had such an overwhelming urge to kiss a woman’s feet but resisted the impulse.

Dana bit her lip and released a tiny sound of pleasure, which hit him in the gut.

Arching an eyebrow, he said, “I guess I don’t have to ask how the foot rub feels.”

“Real good,” she confirmed in a dreamy voice, which encouraged him to continue.

Omar gripped her foot and applied pressure. “Repeat after me. ‘Thank you, Magic Hands.’”

She laughed. “I’m not saying that.”

“Say it or I’ll stop.” He stopped.

“Thank you, Magic Hands!” Dana hollered.

“Better.”

He smiled at her, and she smiled back.

Omar turned his attention to her toes, gently squeezing and tugging them one by one.

Dana sipped her drink and then set it on a coaster on the table. “I have some news.”

“Tell me.”

“I’ve decided to attend the two-week writing workshop in Colorado—the one I told you about before. There’s no reason why I can’t go, and like you said, I should attend for me, because it’s something I really want to do. I filled out the application and paid the deposit.”

As far as he was concerned, she didn’t need a class, but Dana was a perfectionist. He wasn’t the least bit surprised she dived into writing with the same tenacity she approached her academic pursuits years ago.

He would have covered the cost for her, but for some ridiculous reason her pride never let her take money from him. Her independent streak was extremely annoying, but he understood the need to handle her own finances. She grew up in a household where money was always tight, so she was not only careful with her own spending, she never wanted to come across as if she were taking advantage of anyone else.

“You have your ticket already?”

“I didn’t want to buy it until I was certain I would be attending. I received the confirmation so I’ll buy my ticket in the next day or two.”

Omar switched to the other foot and started at the top again. “Still good?” he asked.

“Mhmm,” she replied, sounding lethargic.

Holding her foot in one hand, he pressed his fist into the sole, and she let out another involuntary sound of pleasure. Omar smiled to himself and moved his hand to behind her ankle, squeezing for several moments before rotating her foot several times in a circular motion. Then he slipped his hand higher under her pants leg and squeezed her calf, his movements slowed as he savored the softness of her skin. How far would she let him go?

He glanced up at her, and their gazes crashed into each other. “Still good?”

Dana swallowed and seemed incapable of speaking. Her mouth opened and closed twice, like a fish pulling in water, and then she said weakly, “Enough.”

She tried to tug away her foot, but his hand tightened on her ankle. “Why?”

Maybe the drinks he consumed earlier had affected his thinking. Or maybe he simply no longer cared to fight what he wanted and needed to show Dana he was the man she should be with. Forget any others.

“Just… stop.”

She yanked again, and he let go. She inched backward until her lower back wedged hard against the arm of the sofa, and she refused to look at him, but tension thickened the air.

When she finally lifted her gaze, everything he wanted to see was right there in her eyes. The wanting, the desire. But he also detected uncertainty.

Neither of them spoke. The air became heavier and thicker as the seconds ticked by, and the accumulated want, increasing for who knew how long, expanded in the room. How long had this undercurrent existed between them and been ignored? Years, probably, for him at least. But during the past few hours, the longing and hunger reached peak levels as they grinded on and touched each other at the club with an unusual disregard for propriety.

The next thing Omar knew, he vaulted across the space between them, and his mouth was on hers.

Author Bio:

Delaney Diamond is the USA Today Bestselling Author of black romance and interracial romance in the contemporary romance and romantic suspense genres. She reads romance novels, mysteries, thrillers, and a fair amount of nonfiction. When she’s not busy reading or writing, she’s in the kitchen trying out new recipes, dining at one of her favorite restaurants, or traveling to an interesting locale. To get sneak peeks, notices of sale prices, and find out about new releases, visit her website and join her mailing list. Enjoy free stories on her website at http://www.delaneydiamond.com.

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