Prologue Reveal: The Resistance by S.L. Scott - Vilma Iris | Lifestyle Blogger

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Prologue Reveal: The Resistance by S.L. Scott

THE RESISTANCE HEADER

Are you read for some steamy rock star romance you won’t be able to resist?! I’m thrilled to share with you the prologue of The Resistance, the upcoming new novel by S.L. Scott, out April 28th.

Synopsis

intoxicatedYou don’t choose when.

You don’t choose where.

And you don’t get to choose who you fall in love with.

The minute he opened his sexy mouth, Holliday Hughes should have known Jack Dalton was trouble. His smooth pickup lines, broad shoulders, and ridiculously handsome face charmed her right out of her clothes. She gave into her desires, the instant attraction blinding her to the obvious.

One night. That was all it took for Holliday’s world to be flipped on its axis. Jack Dalton was cocky. Smug. Volatile. Demanding. He ignited something deep inside her like no other, but there was something more to this brooding bad boy. There was a dark side to him she couldn’t help but be drawn to.

Torn between what she knew about him and a mysterious side he tried to hide, could she walk away or was he simply too hard to resist?

Prologue

I’m a fucking fool.

I’m not even sure how I got into this mess, but I know I need to get myself out of it. I look down at the hand on my thigh inching up higher and my stomach rolls. Squeezing out from between the tight confines of the third row in this van, a girl on each side wanting a piece of me, I fall over the seat into the cargo area and move away from their astonished stares. They’re speaking German and I don’t know what the fuck they’re saying, but I’ve been in this type of situation enough to know how it will end, if I let it.

Everything has changed… or sometime around my last birthday I changed.

I didn’t invite these chicks. Dex did. He’ll fuck’em all before the night’s through and the bad part is, they’ll let him. Thinking they’re special, that they’ll be the one to tame him. They’ll let him do what he wants just to be close to him.

Beyond this set up being predictable at this point, it’s really fucking old or I am, probably both. I ignore their taps on my shoulder and them calling my name. I ignore everything to do with them and focus on my phone.

On the inside, I’m freaking the fuck out that I’m sitting in the cargo hold of a huge van in Germany with attractive girls willing to do anything I want them to, but I prefer to look at a photo of a little blonde with hazel eyes. Freaking the fuck out might be an understatement.

I’m a player or was, supposed to be, maybe still am. I don’t keep score or anything like that, but I’ve slept with plenty of women, sometimes more than one at a time. I used to blame my lifestyle, but more recently, I realized I’m the common denominator in the bad relationships I’ve had.

The car comes to a stop and the driver rushes around to the back to let me out. I stumble while climbing out, and hurry inside away from the sound of my name being called. The girls will be upset when they realize I’m not staying to play, but Dex will be thrilled—more pussy for him.

Cory hops out from the front, and follows me. “Wait up,” he says, jogging to catch up.

When we reach the elevators, we look back. Dex is helping the girls out of the vehicle one-by-one. With a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, he’s sloppy, already drunk. He never lacks for female companionship. By the way he acts, I don’t see the appeal, but I don’t think that’s why they’re hooking up with him anyway.

Cory looks at me and nods once. “What’s up? What happened back there?”

The elevator doors open and we step in, pushing the button for our floor. “Over it. Over it all.”

“The girl from Vegas?”

“She’s not from Vegas, but yeah, I’ve kind of been thinking about her.”

When the brass doors reopen, we walk down the hall to our rooms. Cory and I don’t do small talk. We’ve been friends for years, best friends if I think about it.

“Maybe you should call her,” he suggests as we open our doors.

“Maybe I will.”

“Night.”

“Night,” I mumble and shut the door behind me.

addtogoodreads

About S.L. Scott

Crop 3S.L. Scott is a former high-tech account manager with a journalism degree pursuing her passion for telling stories. She spends her days escaping into her characters and letting them lead her on their adventures.

Live music shows, harvesting jalapenos and eating homemade guacamole are her obsessions she calls hobbies.

Scott lives in the beautiful Texas Hill Country of Austin with her husband, two young sons, two Papillons and a bowl full of Sea Monkeys.

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