Rachel Blaufeld
Redemption Lane
Release Date: February 19th, 2015
Sometimes the past bleeds into the future.
Bess,
a wild party girl running from herself, literally falls victim to her
demons when she collapses in the most unexpected of places.
Lane,
a tightly wound, up-and-coming CEO who can’t seem to stop enabling his
brother, doesn’t know what hit him when Bess falls at his feet and into
his life.
It was a night she doesn’t remember, and one he can’t forget.
But
rather than stay and help the needy college coed, Lane decides to teach
his brother a long overdue lesson––a decision that later comes back to
haunt him and only adds fury to the transgressions of his past he is
already fleeing from.
Years later, Bess and Lane meet again. She
doesn’t know him, and he doesn’t share that he knows what happened on
that ill-fated night when she almost died. After all, he has a web of
complicated lies from his own youth to protect.
Both are
seeking salvation in the arms of others and ignoring the truth—that the
only road to redemption lies in confronting your past.
When the past and present collide, is there any chance at redemption?
***QUOTES & TEASERS***
“Lane’s beard tickling the inside of my thigh in all the right places.” – Bess
A
brand spanking new fantasy rolled through my head––visions of a lonely,
yet seductive waitress, dressed in navy slacks and a little matching
vest, her long hair spread down around her neck… - Lane
I
had no choice, so I spent the dinner perfecting Lane Wrigley, the
overly involved hotel business man, getting to know Bess Williams, the
unimpressed, fragile, mysteriously beautiful waitress… - Lane
Setting
my magic pills on the dresser, I stripped out of my smelly clothes from
the night before. As they fluttered to the floor, I watched their
descent, remembering my own extremely real downward spiral.
___________________________________________________________________
I
couldn’t be upset…the girl next to me was smoking hot. Intrigued, I
took in her long wavy brown hair that she was twisting into a messy bun,
small tits in a bright blue halter top, and tight hips and a round ass
poured into tight black yoga pants. The disappointing thing was she
fucking stank, and my eyes began to water from the stench wafting my
way, like booze and stale sweat.
This girl smelled like a bar after a long Saturday night.
Was she drunk? Was she even legal?
___________________________________________________________________
“Excuse me? Do you want a table,” I asked.
He
flipped the paper down, peering over the top of it, and his
crystal-blue eyes sharpened. A series of expressions flitted over his
face, first hurt or sadness, then morphing into what looked suspiciously
like lust. In the end the man continued to stand there, saying nothing
and looking bewildered.
Weird.
Unnerved, I stared back at
him for much too long but his gaze mesmerized me, capturing my body,
mind, and soul in a way I wasn’t familiar with. It left me wanting to
stare forever.
What the eff, Bess? Stare forever? Just seat the damn guy.
“Are
you ready to sit for breakfast,” I asked, using my professional tone as
a shield. I wasn’t on the menu, and definitely wasn’t one of the
specials.
He cleared his throat and said, “Yes. Table for one.” Then he added, “Please.”
“Right this way.”
_______________________________________________________________
AJ:
“It doesn’t have to be that way, Bess. You don’t have to be alone. You’re not alone. You have friends…and me.”
His
eyes searched mine, begging me to understand the hidden meaning behind
his words. I didn’t really have friends. And we were nothing more than
sponsor and sponsee.
I didn’t really have him. Or did I?
“AJ…” I breathed out his name slowly, looking up but hesitating to meet his eyes.
________________________________________________________________
Licking
his lips, he ran his hand through his dark hair and leaned close once
more. “As for why I’m back here with you, I can’t really say. I only
know I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since our
unbelievably boring dinner in the tavern…or the coffee we shared in the
back room the morning after.”
His expression softened. “There’s
just something about you, Bess. You’re sweeter than the aroma of the
blueberry muffin I devoured with you, prettier than the sun setting over
the ocean back home, and tangier than the lemons you squeeze into your
water. Something I can’t put my finger on pulls me in and makes me want
to be close to you, probably the same thing that makes you want to run.
Hell, it makes me want to flee so fucking fast, but I’m not. So…just
don’t.”
About
Author Rachel Blaufeld is a social worker/entrepreneur/blogger turned
author. Fearless about sharing her opinion, Rachel captured the ear of
stay-at-home and working moms on her blog, BacknGrooveMom, chronicling
her adventures in parenting tweens and inventing a product, often at the
same time. She has also blogged for The Huffington Post, Modern Mom,
and StartupNation.
Turning her focus on her sometimes
wild-and-crazy creative side, it only took Rachel two decades to do
exactly what she wanted to do—write a fiction novel. Now she spends way
too many hours in local coffee shops plotting her ideas. Her tales may
all come with a side of angst and naughtiness, but end lusciously.
Rachel
lives around the corner from her childhood home in Pennsylvania with
her family and two dogs. Her obsessions include running, coffee,
icing-filled doughnuts, antiheroes, and mighty fine epilogues.
Website: https://rachelblaufeld.com/
Blog: http://backngroovemom.com/
Blog: http://backngroovemom.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/rachelblaufeldtheauthor?fref=ts
Twitter: https://twitter.com/@rachelblaufeld
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8133160.Rachel_Blaufeld
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