The Revolution
The Revolution
First Edition
Copyright © S. L. Scott 2016
The right of S.L. Scott to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the
Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000
This work is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-940071-42-8
Cover design: Sarah Hansen of Okay Creations
Interior Design: Angela McLaurin, Fictional Formats
https://www.facebook.com/FictionalFormats
Cover Image Photographer: Scott Hoover
Featured on the Front Cover: Richard Rocco
Editors: Marion Archer of Making Manuscripts
Marla Esposito of Proofing Style
Available Books by Author S.L. Scott
Talk to Me Series
Hard to Resist Series
Welcome to Paradise Series
Welcome to Paradise Series Set
From the Inside Out Series
From the Inside Out Compilation
Stand Alone Books
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THE WOMAN I’VE
fantasized about is finally in my bed. The one who’s starred in my dreams and I’ve imagined when fucking others. She’s here, lying next to me and I can’t sleep.
My chest hurts while watching her. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and equally the most fascinating. She teases and jokes, flirts… and she trusts me. She trusts me with her life. That’s what brought her here tonight. I would do anything for her and she knows it.
I sit up and scrub my hands over the way-too-long scruff that covers my face. She stirs beside me, making me want to stay. I really should, but I just can’t stay here any longer…
A promise is a promise and all that. But some promises are worth breaking.
This is one of them.
STUPID MUSICIANS!
Stupid, sexy guitarists in fitted shirts that highlight muscles and accentuate abs that should not be hidden behind cotton nor confined under it. But when muscles become eight-packs that’s what happens. Score one for him. He’s got my complete attention and it’s so annoying.
“Lara?”
I look back over my shoulder. Rochelle smiles while adding an accusing lifted eyebrow. Damn her and her all-knowing self.
“What?” I reply as innocently as I can.
“Really?” Crossing her arms over her chest and the stagnant stare tells me I’m not fooling her. “You ready or do you need a few more minutes to stare at the band?”
Caught.
Did Rochelle really think bringing me backstage to The Resistance sound check would be a quick in and out?
I want to see the guys. Johnny Outlaw, the lead singer, may be the one most clamor to see, but not me. Everything about him oozes sex appeal, but despite that, my attention tends to go elsewhere. Dex, the drummer, is hot, but he and Rochelle… I’m not sure what’s going on there. The other guitarist, Derrick, is cute, but definitely not my type. Kaz on the other hand… I let my gaze linger on his ass in those tight jeans, the holes at the knees formed naturally, literally torn from wear.
So freaking hot.
“A few minutes,” I joke. Kind of.
