Diamond’s father always told her she would never amount to anything and she would turn out to be just like her promiscuous mother.  She believed his hateful words and became a plaything for any man, unable to refuse, no matter how disgusted she was by sleeping with them.  The pain hit her the hardest when her lifestyle ruined her friendship with Asia, her closest friend.  

Now that she’s trying to get her act together, why is Kanji, Asia’s cousin stepping to her after all these years?   Years ago back in high school, Kanji called her out in front of everyone, causing her to look like a fool.  Now he’s making her feel things she’s never felt for any man before.

I was pleasantly surprised by this story.  Diamond is gritty with a core that’s as valuable and hard as her name.  She has native wisdom and the street cred to back it up.  The dry, often matter-of-fact first person narrative rings true and helped me to understand the pain she’s been carrying around forever as a shield.   There’s a few pieces missing in this intricate puzzle (maybe because this is the sequel to Lovers and Friends), and I did feel that the author whisked a little over Diamond’s issues, yet it doesn’t detract from the telling.

Kanji isn’t represented as her errant knight, but rather as a foundation where she can solidly rest against and believe in herself.  In turn, she helps ease the pain of his past and fulfills his heart’s desire to become a part of his life permanently.  He never judges her because he can clearly see who she is and isn’t deterred. 

When I first started reading this story, I kept an open mind about it. Sometimes I like to challenge my reading boundaries.  I don’t usually snatch up tales about people like Diamond. I’m glad I did.  Diamond is a jewel of a tale with a few rough edges and enough sparkle to make it shine.