Thick of Love

by Danielle Marcus

Genres: African American Women's Fiction; African American Romance; Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

A flirty, feel-good novel that takes you on a journey of love, heartbreak, and self-discovery. Perfect for fans of Mary B. Morrison and Briana Cole.
"I gave you fifteen years, two kids, and my everything. You still chose to give a woman you barely knew the ring, the house, and my happily-ever-after."
Dallas once believed in forever love, but that was before her marriage had hit a dead end. When Trenton Smith walks into her life, he's ready to love her the way she deserves to be loved—only Dallas' walls are up. In time she will know if he is merely history on repeat, or the kindred connection she's been praying for.
Sasha wanted nothing more than to have a baby with her fiancé, Hunt. After years of trying to conceive, she's finally concluded that a baby may not be in the cards for her. Sasha begins to question her womanhood, and before long, it sends her into a fit of depression—until she finds comfort in the arms of another man.
After dating the momma's boy, the thug, and her ultimate favorite—the tired brother with good sex but no money, Candace finally finds her knight in shining armor. Things are going well until she discovers the roommate he conveniently failed to mention. When Sasha's brother, Diego, decides to help mend her heart,
Candace soon realizes that her soul mate may have been right under her nose the entire time.

Release date: July 25, 2023

Publisher: Black Odyssey Media

Print pages: 288

Sample

Chapter One

“When you trying to see me?”

His voice was flirtatious, suggestive. Dallas Avery knew exactly what he was insinuating…sex, and she couldn’t believe the audacity.

“Listen, are you coming to get the kids or not, Messiah?” Dallas grumbled, rolling her eyes.

The mere thought of him caused her to cringe these days.

“Didn’t I say I was? Why you gotta have an attitude every time I call? Bitter ain’t cute on you.”

Bitter? Dallas had to repeat the word in her head. He did not get to poke the giant and tuck his tail.

“You know what? Not today, Satan. I will not let you take me out of my element. Bye, asshole,” she said, ending the call before he could respond.

Bitter? Hell, yeah, I’m bitter, and I have every right to be.

Fifteen years was a long time to love a man. Dallas Avery had invested everything in him. She gave up her dreams and sacrificed her happiness to make sure their relationship would end the fairytale she had imagined. She gave him the whole gotdamn cow, and he still chose to marry another woman.

A frown tipped the corners of her lips as she thought about Messiah, her sperm donor.

Sorry-ass nigga, she grumbled, snatching a bronze dress from the clothing rack and giving it a once over before hanging it back in place.

Of course, their relationship wasn’t perfect, but whose was? Instead of trying to fix it, he found some young hoe who probably still had milk behind her ears and called himself replacing her. Just the thought made Dallas’s stomach turn.

She might have accepted their breakup a little better if he had ended things and let her be. However, somehow, he still found his way back to her bed every chance he got, stirring up emotions she was desperately trying to rid herself of. How could she get over him when the familiarity of his touch still sent a shiver up her spine and shot her spiraling on a euphoric high?

Messiah was her drug, and she was addicted to him. But like every other high, it eventually wore off, bringing forth the sobering truth. He left her bed to go home to his fiancée while she hugged a pillow, wishing it was him.

She let out a sigh, thumbing through another rack of expensive dresses at Posh Dior Clothing Boutique. Messiah’s wedding to his young hoe was quickly approaching, and Dallas was toying with the idea of crashing the ceremony and opening Pandora’s box. Why should they get to have their happily-ever-after while she sat in her room crying herself to sleep every other night? She was tired of being the bigger person when it was obvious no one gave a damn about her feelings.

Mary J. Blige’s Not Gon Cry had been on repeat on Dallas’s playlist for the past three months. When Mary said, “I should have left yo’ ass a thousand times,” Dallas felt that in her soul. She wished she had left him the first time he broke her heart. Now, he had her questioning why she wasn’t woman enough to keep her man. She had to pretend she had everything together and put on the facade of the perfect mother; when the truth was, she was salty. She resented Messiah just as much as she loved him.

Dallas tried her best to push him from her thoughts as she scanned the price tag connected to the sleeves of a gorgeous, peach mermaid-style gown. Her brows creased.

“Eight hundred dollars?” she mumbled, analyzing the dress again, attempting to tell herself it wasn’t all that. But, being honest with herself, she knew she’d kill the game in it. Her body had always been stacked in all the right places.

She studied the price tag again, calculating which bill she could skip to pay for the piece. Messiah Jr.’s basketball camp money was due, the light bill needed to be paid, and Mr. Thomas had already given her an extension on the car loan.

“Here I am robbing Peter to pay Paul while your stankin’ ass is out living your best life. And you got the nerve to call me bitter?”

She sucked her teeth, slamming the dress back into its rightful place.

“Dang, what did that dress do to you? I think it would look fly on you.”

A deep baritone massaged Dallas’s eardrums. His warm breath and the feeling of his presence sent a chill up her spine. She jumped before focusing on him. Damn, he’s fine.

Dallas snorted. “Not for eight hundred dollars. It better turn me into Beyoncé for that price.”

“Beyoncé is overrated. You’re not giving yourself enough credit,” he added charmingly.

Is he flirting? Dallas took a second to scan him. He was so smooth…and handsome. His chocolate six-foot-two-inch frame was muscular, broad shoulders filled out his blazer, a fresh cut had his waves spinning, and his thick kiss-me lips were inviting. Then, he had the nerve to be dressed GQ in a three-piece suit and a pair of wing-tipped Ferragamos. She knew what they were because Messiah had those same shoes. They’d actually argued over them. However, she couldn’t remember Messiah looking that good in them.

“Thanks,” Dallas muttered, tucking a stray strand of her chestnut hair behind her ear.

Her gaze landed on the watch on her wrist, causing her eyes to bulge. She only had seven minutes to get back to the office. She had spent more time at the boutique than she’d intended.

“Dallas, right?” He smiled, pointing at her name badge. “I saw you walk in and couldn’t let you go without telling you how pretty you are.”

Her cheeks stained red. She couldn’t remember the last time she received a simple compliment and honestly didn’t know how to take it. Her lips curved downward.

“Thank you, but I’m not interested,” Dallas responded, studying the dress again, then returning her focus to the stranger. 

“Not interested in what? I never made any offers,” he corrected her.

Dallas rolled her eyes. She didn’t know why she was giving the man such a hard time. She couldn’t help it. Messiah left a sour taste in her mouth, and the poor stranger was the easiest to take it out on.

“Whatever. I have to go,” she spat, stepping around him and making her way toward the exit.

“You’re still beautiful. Mean and all.”

Dallas heard him. The half-smile that crept on her face showcased the dimple on her left cheek. She didn’t want to be angry anymore. She didn’t want to cry over Messiah another night. Why was she finding it so hard to move on? After dealing with Messiah’s no-good, cheating ass, dating another man was last on her agenda. He had really done a number on her. They’d been officially broken up for ten months, he engaged for three, and she still hadn’t opened herself up to dating again.



“Damnit, Messiah Jr., what did I tell you about leaving this ball in the middle of my floor? And why are your clothes spread all over my living room?” Dallas squalled, bracing herself from falling onto her face. She exhaled, then sucked in a deep breath to calm her nerves.

Dallas loved her kids deeply; she really did. However, she needed a mental break. Mommy time with margaritas and girl talk would be nice or a night of hot, dirty, disrespectful sex with a tall, sexy, chocolate brother who had a nice body and… No, she had to stop herself there. Having random sex wasn’t exactly her style.

“Sorry, Ma. My dad is coming to get us today, and he wanted us to dress nice. I was going to ask you which one you wanted me to wear,” Messiah Jr. explained, snatching his basketball up and shooting at an imaginary rim. “We’re going to dinner with that girl’s family. I don’t want to meet them, but Dad said I have to.”

His peanut-butter face formed a frown. Messiah Jr. was so handsome––the perfect mixture of both parents, from his charcoal-black curly hair inherited through Dallas to having his father’s brown eyes and full nose.

Dallas stifled a giggle. “Don’t call her that girl. She has a name. And don’t be like that, son. She’s your family now.”

Damn, it was hard being the bigger person. It nearly killed Dallas, but she promised herself never to talk down on their situation to the children, no matter how much it hurt.

“That’s not my family! You’re my family, Mom. I’ll make a mistake and knock all the drinks on her dress if you want me to.” He snickered deviously, causing Dallas to chortle.

“Messiah!” Dallas covered her mouth, unable to hold in her laughter. “It’s okay this time, baby. I’ll let you know when I need your backup,” she added, nudging him and ruffling his curls.

The doorbell chimed before Messiah Jr. could respond. He tossed his basketball in the corner and raced toward the stairs.

“That’s Dad. I’ll go get Meghan so y’all can talk.” He made googly eyes at Dallas as he passed her, causing her to shake her head.

Her son was a complete character. He wanted them to get back together so badly. It was almost as if he didn’t understand it was over. Their happy family was torn apart because his father decided to marry his mistress, his whore, his homewrecker. Dallas could think of quite a few more names she could have called the girl, but she was trying not to let those ill thoughts consume her.

Dallas let out a husky breath of air, watching her son disappear. Was she ready to come face-to-face with Messiah? No. He’d just broken the news of his engagement and instantaneous wedding, demanding that their children participate as the official flower girl and groomsman. He hadn’t even given the wound time to heal, yet there he was, showing up at her doorstep and forcing her to suck it up. She always had to just suck it up, no matter what it was.

Releasing another husky breath, Dallas tried her best to relax her nerves. It was just Messiah, right? The same tired nigga that went out and proposed to some hoe who he’d only known for months, although she had given him nearly fifteen years.

Fifteen years. Reciting that number almost made her lose her breath. She had given him the whole cow, milked it for him, and his ungrateful ass still went out and got another woman. She gave him the best years of her life, gave him children, and sacrificed her freedom, and he simply said fuck her.

Dallas wanted to hate him, but she couldn’t. She just wanted to know why. That question kept repeating in her head. Why would he shoot a bullet right through her heart like that?

Biting her bottom lip, Dallas swung the door open and smoothed the wrinkles out of her top, an attempt to calm her nerves. Standing before her with his hands shoved in his black slacks, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, and his tie loosened, Messiah was perfect.

Dallas loved him. That was something she gave up trying to deny. However, she didn’t understand how she could love a man with every fiber of her being and hate him just as much. She had to use all the strength she could muster not to break down at the reality of her broken forever standing in her face.

“Hey, Dally. Are the kids ready?” He pulled his left hand out of his pocket and studied his watch. “We have an hour to make it to the restaurant. Tatiana’s people get to acting stupid, and I’m not trying to hear it.”

Dallas’s face contorted into the sourest frown.

“I don’t give a damn what her family do,” she spat, pointing her finger at his chest. “You know, you’re really an inconsiderate asshole, Messiah. Wait here; I’ll send the kids out shortly.”

She rolled her eyes, fighting to hold back the tears on the verge of escaping without her permission. She had shed far too many tears over him. He didn’t deserve any more.

Messiah frowned. “Damn, I can’t come in the house now? I paid for the motherfucka and left it to you, might I add. If I was an asshole, I would have taken it back.”

If looks could kill, the mug on Dallas’s face would have sent Messiah to an early grave. She could only shake her head at him. He really didn’t have a clue.

“No, you’re still an asshole. You don’t get points for not putting your kids on the street, especially being that you’re the one who walked away to be with your mistress.”

“Come on, Dallas,” Messiah groaned, raking a hand across his freshly shaved face. “It’s been ten months. How long are you going to keep bringing Tatiana up? It’s getting old.”

“How dare you cheat on me and decide when I’m supposed to stop hurting? So fifteen years meant nothing to you, huh? I did everything you asked of me, Messiah. I gave you a part of me that no one else had, and this random broad comes along and gets the ring, the horse, and the carriage? Don’t you dare tell me how to feel about that!”

Dallas’s lips were clenched so tightly that she could barely get the words out. Her heart began to thump hard and fast. The uneasy feeling that settled in her gut almost made her nauseous.

Dallas thought about the little girl that he was supposed to marry. That’s what she was to her––a kid. At twenty-three, she couldn’t possibly have anything going for herself except a wet ass. Dallas had debated many nights on what the girl had over her that made Messiah propose. She beat herself up trying to figure out what she was doing wrong and how she could fix it. Even after everything he had put her through, a part of her was still hoping he would realize his mistake, apologize for her pain, and they’d live happily ever after. That’s what made her sick…the fact that she was willing to take him back. She was weak when it came to him, and she prayed daily for the strength to get over his sorry ass.

“Listen, Dallas,” Messiah started, jarring her from her mental debate as he cupped her elbow to make her pay attention to him. Ignoring the grim look plastered across her face, he continued, “You know I’ll always have love for you and my children. Me marrying Tatiana will never change that.” He ran his hand through his waved hair. “But, in the future, demand what you want from a man. Because I, or shall I say he, will only do what you allow him to do. I didn’t want a maid. I wanted a partner, Dallas.”

Before Dallas could process her actions, her hand landed across Messiah’s cheek. She slapped him so hard that the sound echoed through the house.

“Get out!” Dallas screamed, pointing toward the door. “Get the hell out of my house and wait for your children in the car. Go, Messiah!”

Her voice was shaky and a little too loud for her comfort, especially with the kids in the house. But how could Messiah not see that he was breaking her? She felt like his personal prisoner, and he’d given her a life sentence. She had pretended to be strong for far too long, and she couldn’t do it anymore. She just couldn’t.

Chapter Two

R&B singer Tank’s latest hit, “When We,” blared through the speakers as Candace swayed her hips from side to side with perfect rhythm. She watched herself in the mirror, her body reacting to each break in the beat. She was in her zone, amazing the onlookers with her style and grace. Dancing was her passion. It was her way of expressing herself. She could watch a move one time and master it, no matter the genre of dance performed.

Tonight, she was teaching an erotic pole dancing class in the back room of her best friend’s boutique. Well, one of her best friends. Dallas would have a complete fit if she heard Candace call Sasha her best friend without acknowledging her, too. It had been an ongoing joke since they were in high school. The girls were inseparable, more like sisters than friends.

Candace had a class full, and she was grateful for how quickly the number of attendees had multiplied since her first session. At twenty-nine, she was making a name for herself around the city. Actually, people traveled from all over Michigan to attend her classes. Soon, she would need her own building. That was her dream––to own a dance studio.

After the song ended, Candace whirled around with a big alley-cat grin plastered across her face. The ladies went into a fit of applause and catcalls.

“Alright, y’all, do you have the moves down pat? Let’s put them all together now. Imagine your boo is sitting in front of you. This is for him. Get sexy for him,” she encouraged, signaling her assistant to restart the song.

“What if I don’t do dick? What if I got a whole woman at home?” Tangie, one of her regulars, teased.

Candace let out a small giggle. “Here you go. Well, imagine your girl is in front of you then. There’s a lot of beautiful women in here tonight. Pick one and dance for her.”

She winked as the beat came back on, and the ladies got into position to start the routine.

“Okay, let’s move. Work them hips. Twirl, dip, grind on him. Make him hot, ladies,” she instructed, watching as the class mirrored her moves. “Uh-uh, Ashley. You got too much booty back there not to know how to work it. Shake that big ‘ol thang,” she said, causing the ladies to laugh.

Candace had no problem calling underperformers out. She was slick with the tongue, but everyone knew she meant no harm.

The class went over the routine for twenty more minutes before calling it quits for the night. Candace had a date with her man and planned on putting on a private show for him. It always ended in hot, nasty sex that left her center aching with passion. Jaxon fucked her so good that her body began to tingle just thinking about him.

They had been dating for almost two years now. Candace was ready to marry him, but he wasn’t ready. She was also ready to give him his first child; he wanted to focus on his career. They were pulling in two totally different directions. One thing was for sure, though; their chemistry was undeniable. The sex was incredible and made Candace ignore several red flags.

A line leader at Ford Motor Company, Jaxon had been on the job since he was nineteen. Thirteen years, no kids, and no wife later, he had a hefty savings account, a 401k, a beautiful home in Rochester Hills, and good credit. It also helped that he was sexy as all hell. The brother had it going on.

They met at the gas station. She didn’t know where to pour the antifreeze, and he just happened to be a knight in shining armor. He insisted on taking her number and a lunch date as repayment for helping her, although he could have gotten it for free. Candace had never seen a man so fine in her life. He was tall, honey-glazed, clean-cut, and downright sexy. Plus, when she used the term man, she meant a real man. He wasn’t into the streets, didn’t hang out all night, nor did he wear his pants sagging below his ass. Jaxon had grown man swag, and Candace instantly fell in love with his charm.

“Candace, right? Can I talk to you?”

The voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She turned to face a chocolate beauty with brown hair, big boobs, and a small waist. She was younger, maybe twenty-four or twenty-five, but beautiful. That was undeniable.

Candace smiled. “Yes. Arianna, right? You just started two classes ago?”

Arianna nodded. “That’s me, but I wanted to talk to you about private lessons. My man is obsessed with me dancing for him.” She playfully rolled her eyes and blushed as if just the thought of him drove her crazy. “Well, when he mentioned that he knew you did these classes, I had to come. You’re the shit, girl. I’m going to have his ass begging to taste this by the end of our sessions.”

Candace was used to women coming to her and speaking about their private lives. Sometimes, she felt like a relationship doctor. Private lessons weren’t unusual, either.

“Of course,” Candace replied with a nod. “Just have my assistant set it up. And tell the Mr. thanks for the recommendation.”

“Shit, Jaxon will probably be thanking you himself after I finish with his ass,” Arianna giggled as she twirled her hair around her finger while blushing.

Candace’s face scrunched up in confusion. She knew like hell the bitch couldn’t be talking about her perfect Jaxon. He didn’t have another woman. He worked entirely too much and spent all his free time with Candace. Their relationship was going so perfectly, and they were making life-altering plans for their future. He loved her; Candace knew he did.

“Jaxon?” Candace finally repeated, squinting her eyes. She must have heard wrong.

Arianna put on her fakest smile. “Yes, girl. Why you say it like that? You know some info on him that I don’t? Spill it, girl.” She nudged Candace.

Anger instantly surged throughout Candace’s body. There were three possible explanations. One, there was another Jaxon who just happened to be Arianna’s man. Two, Arianna was a messy jump-off, mad that she and Jaxon were building a solid relationship. Or three, Jaxon was a lying sack of shit. She prayed it wasn’t the latter.

Placing her hands on her hips and shifting her weight to one leg, Candace studied the young girl. “Actually, I do know a Jaxon. The only woman he has is me, though. I don’t know wha. . .