Rachel Blaufeld’s “Crossroads” series has a brand new release coming out on September 28th 2015 (just a week and a half!!!) entitled Absolution Road (Crossroads Book 2), and she’s sent us an exclusive excerpt. He’s a bad boy fighter with a good boy twin that keeps covering for him… and she’s the public defender that he falls for! 
(P.S. Here is book #1, Redemption Lane (Crossroads Book 1) and THAT one is about his good-boy twin brother, and a party-girl ruining her life – and of course… the bad boy twin in this release)! Wow, these sound awesome, and I wanna read ’em!
Virginia: Redemption Lane by Rachel Blaufeld is on sale… Loved it!!
P.S. Can I just say… OMG I LOVE THIS COVER!!!!! THAT IS EXACTLY who I’d envision reading a book like this.
This one sounds intense! How intense? Take a look at this blurb.
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.
Ooooooohhhh…. wanna taste-test it?
Exclusive excerpt of Absolution Road (Crossroads Book 2)
Taking a long sip, I surveyed the room. Lots of lawyers, most of them men all suited up with their ties loosened around their necks after presumably a long week, and a few women all stylish in wrap dresses.
I stared down at my pale pink sweater and brown slacks. Yeah, my outfit was stylish and fit well, but it wasn’t worthy of the other women in the room. Mine was from the sale rack at Macy’s, and their clothes were from Bergdorf Goodman in New York. How did I know? From years of perusing piles of hand-me-downs thrown at my mom. The ladies she worked for thought she’d wear them. Instead, she sold their castoffs at consignment shops and put the money away for my college.
“You good?” the cute bartender asked.
“Yeah,” I said quietly.
“Not your crowd?” He tilted his head toward the room full of stuck-up lawyers.
“Well, I’m one of them, but I’m not. I guess that doesn’t make any sense, but that’s the truth.”
“I got you. I can tell just by looking at you, you’re better than all of them.”
“What? No, that’s not what I meant.” Embarrassed, I stared back at his knowing gaze.
“I know, but look at them. All fake and phony, laughing and gaggling and gossiping while you sit here classy and calm, Red.”
“Please, I’m anything but calm. My boss made me come to this, but I’m not feeling it. How much for the drink?”
“On the house.”
After tossing a ten-dollar bill on the bar and mumbling my thanks, I grabbed my bag and left. Of course, I’d forgotten all about Jake being in the main bar as I headed toward the exit, struggling to wrestle on my tight leather jacket while I juggled my bag. I’d almost cleared the doorway when I heard my name.
“Alyson? Hey, Alyson!”
As I stopped short and turned around, Jake Wrigley ran straight into me. Colliding with a wall of solid muscle, I teetered a little and braced my hand on his chest to steady myself, surprised at the heat radiating from him.
“Um, sorry for grabbing you,” I murmured as he wrapped a calloused hand over mine, stilling my frantic movements. His hand was so large, so rough, that my hand felt almost dainty in his.
“No worries. This is getting pretty silly, running into each other in the strangest of places. Do you come here a lot?” His brow furrowed and he looked at me as if I were a five-hundred-piece jigsaw puzzle and he was trying to put the pieces together.
Digging for composure, I cleared my throat, pretending I was in an interrogation room. “Not really.”
“Me either. It’s a bit stuffy.”
“I was here for a legal event. In fact, I should be going.”
One corner of his mouth lifted into a lopsided smile. “I could see how that would be the case. Not much but suits and secretaries here.” He tilted his head toward the bar and some of his black hair flopped over his forehead, definitely longer than when he was in jail. “I was having a drink with my brother. My twin brother,” he said, correcting himself.
“Oh, wow! That’s cool.” I wasn’t sure how I played off my surprise, but I did. Must be all those years of playing dumb at work.
Like I did with Jake when I knew they were going to release him, but questioned him anyway. It wasn’t really my job to make certain he wasn’t a threat, but I’d have kept him locked up if he were. As we talked that night, I could see through his armor, that heavy metal casing made of bravado and flippant flirting. The truth was that Jake Wrigley was a little boy deep down inside. Problem was, he was a strong, gorgeous man on the outside.
“Well, I guess . . . good seeing you. I don’t want to keep you.” I pointed toward his brother, who was busy pounding away on his smartphone.
“Nah, I’m leaving. One drink with Lane is enough for me. He’s the more serious brother,” he said with a smirk and a wink. “Where you going? Somewhere more exciting?”
“Actually, home. This is about as exciting as I get.”
“You were pretty serious that night in jail. You ever let loose?” Jake took my bag from my hands and said, “Come on, I’ll walk you out.”
“I don’t need you to carry that for me, Mr. Wrigley.” Definitely needed to get control of the situation. One minute, I was leaving with my reading, looking forward to a mug of hot tea and a throw blanket waiting for me at home. The next, Jake Wrigley was walking me out and carrying my briefcase.
“It’s just a bag, not a marriage proposal, Ms. Road. Let’s go.” He slipped his hand over the soft leather of my jacket, guiding me by my elbow toward the door.
