“The Resistance is a fun, sexy read that you don’t want to miss! This book pulled me in from the first sentence, and I couldn’t put it down. Jack Dalton is hot, and Holli is just the type of protagonist that I like to root for.
~R.K. Lilley, New York Times and USA Today Best Selling Author
“The Resistance is a unique and refreshingly sexy twist on the usual Rock Star Romance. If you love hot sex, rock stars, and a heroine who is strong and capable, this one is for you!”
~Lisa, Rock Stars of Romance
“5 Stars—another must read from S. L. Scott, who continues to wow me with her ability to suck me into a story and make me feel that I’m standing on the outside watching everything unfold.”
~Heidi McLaughlin, USA Today Best Selling Author
“The Resistance isn’t just a book about a Bad Boy Rocker. It’s about finding your true north, learning how to cope with the past, finding a way to navigate the present… In the end it’s a ride you won’t want to get off.”
~Jennifer, Wolfel’s World of Books
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.
“Comfort zones are like women. You have to try a few before you find the one that feels right.” ~Johnny Outlaw
That damn lime and coconut song has been playing on a loop in my head, driving me nuts for hours. I make a mental note: Fire Tracy in the morning for subjecting me to that song twenty-thousand times yesterday. She called it inspirational. I call it torture after the first two times.
Rolling over, I look at the time. 4:36 a.m. I have four hours before I need to be on the road. This may be a business trip, but it will still be good to get away for a few days. I need a break. I’ve been in a bad mood lately. The spa and I have a date I’m really looking forward to. The thought alone relaxes me. I close my eyes and try to get a few more hours of sleep before I need to leave for Las Vegas.