I love her books. I’ve read them all, because she writes messy heroines and struggling alpha males, who always want to be better men, and for me that’s sexy. We’ve been together on this Indie journey pretty much from my start. She is my ambassador of social media. I didn’t know a darn thing when I started. And there is Rachel all things digital and blogging just there, poof like magic, stepping into my life and getting me up-to-speed—well as up-to-speed as I can get—in the digital age. But that’s not why I think she’s amazing. I have an absolute soft-spot for people who are doing the best they can in a pretty rough setting, who never lose their goodness and grace—and darlings Indie Publishing can be rough and tumble—and through the highs, the lows, the mean, the politics, and the at times just plain petty, she has never lost her sweet self or her kindness. Basically Rachel Blaufeld, you rock as a person. And if you didn’t know that, that is why your books are so good. Only a positive and hopeful person can write about hope and love and do it well.
I don’t think I could find another author friend like her, because underneath all this writing stuff we do, she’s like me: it’s about the challenges of this journey—self-publishing—and our real world lives.
See we don’t talk about books and Indie publishing—unless we talk about each other’s books—she has not abandoned in the pursuit of the persona as too many authors do that we are both foremost women, wives, mothers, business professionals, and just trying to do the best we can. When she pops up on my computer screen I smile because I know we’re going to chat about the things women have chatted about for centuries: how much our husbands frustrate us; how challenging raising kids can be; how much we love our husbands; how much we love our kids; how tired we are today because our plates are too full; Judy and Dorothy(our mothers);how she’s off to grab coffee and run; and how I’m off to grab wine and layout at the beach(I can do that now. I’m granny).
Basically it’s the relationship I have with my own daughters and from the time I first met Rachel, she’s been pretty much my daughter from another mother. I call her that. She’s earned it. She has done for me the greatest thing anyone can do for another person: she’s enriched my life.
I love you, doll. Happy Release day for book #5 ABSOLUTION ROAD!!
For Jake Wrigley, the future is bleak. Some people are survivors, but he’s getting by on his bad-boy looks and charming smile. He owns a gym, gets into bar fights, and wrestles his demons with rough workouts—both in and out of the bedroom.
For Alyson Road, the future is bright. Life can only improve from where she grew up. She graduated at the top of her law class, cares for her ailing mom, and in her job, she defends those who can’t afford anyone else. Her work is thankless but honest.
Jake’s twin brother has been covering his ass for as long as they’ve been alive, but that all changes when Jake finds himself in front of the fiery public defender, his future in her hands. For the first time ever, he doesn’t want to involve his brother, finally realizing he needs to stand alone, be his own man.
Even if Jake’s never absolved of his past wrongdoings or his heart is never scrubbed of the blackness that resides there, he can do one good deed—protect the beautiful lawyer who touched his soul—until helping her nearly becomes his own undoing.
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Leaning my chair back on its two rear legs, I couldn’t help but laugh again before trying to contain myself. This chick and her soft demeanor were all business. Of course, she would be. Who else would work on Christmas Eve? I was pretty certain she could have made me wait until the day after Christmas to post bond, but here she was defending the public on the most holy night of the year.
Add a big heart to the brain, tits, and long legs I’d already noted in her plus column. Maybe I didn’t want to bang her, but rather cherish this sweet thing? The reality of that seemed slim, seeing as the smart, good girls didn’t go for me. Nor did I expect them to. I was the bad boy, and I had the guilty conscience to back that notion right the fuck up.
“Of course, Ms. Road. It’s Jake, by the way. Just J-A-K-E. Full name is J-A-S-O-N, but I haven’t been called that in twenty years.” I mocked her spelling with my very own rendition, teasing the schoolgirl, looking for a reaction like I was in the third grade. “So, let’s get down to brass tacks and get my ass outta here so you can head home to your . . . husband? Boyfriend? He must be waiting for a gem like you to come home to start the holiday, right?”
No harm in trying.
As I spoke, she narrowed her eyes and glared daggers at me. “Are you done with probing into my personal life, interrogating me? I’m pretty sure I’m not the one in jail.”
Obviously annoyed, she followed that volley with another few leg switches. Left over right, right over left. I wanted to grab her knees and spread her limbs and dive in, let my tongue dig deep into her folds, make her let go of all that stuck-up bullshit she had going on while screaming my name. She probably tasted like sweet honey.