Tuesday, April 1, 2014


USA Today bestselling book, Fighting for Irish
This trailer is one-of-a-kind in that it was shot live using the cover models for Fighting for Irish, specifically to create this trailer. Becca Manuel of Bibliophile Productions shot the footage and edited the video.

I didn't make things easy on her. We had limited resources with only a few hours to get everything shot that we needed, not to mention her Texas blood had to function in the negative temperatures of the frozen tundra we call Wisconsin! But even with all that working against her, she still managed to make me an amazing trailer I'm proud to show the world. She's incredibly talented, and we have lots of plans to work together in the future.

In addition to the "Official" trailer, Becca also created an alternate (fan-made) version that I love, AND put together a hilarious compilation of outtakes from our day filming. Here's all three videos for your viewing enjoyment. If you love them, I hope you'll share them with your friends. The boys of the Fighting for Love series want to be on every reader's shelf and eReader! ;)

Check out the first two books in the series!

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

The Seducing Cinderella Epic Trailer Reveal & The Parker/Reid World Domination Contest!!!

Raise your hand if you like hunky, hot romance heroes!

Do we have everyone’s attention? Awesome! 

Now raise your hand if you remember the game Where’s Waldo? 

You may be wondering what those two completely different things have in common. Well, from February 26th to March 22nd, The Maxwell Mob – the one and only Romance Mafia for New York Times bestselling author Gina L. Maxwell – invites you to participate in what will no doubt be the sexiest game of Where’s Waldo? to date. 

Seducing Cinderella, the New York Times and USA Today bestselling novel from Entangled Publishing, hits store shelves on February 26th for its paperback debut, featuring the one and only Parker Hurley on the cover. Parker, as you may (or may not) know, was the inspiration for MMA star and super-hunk Reid Andrews.  While the world – mainly the Mob – is excited about Parker being on the cover, we began to ponder, where else in the world has this amazing model been? 

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to find Parker! The contest rules are simple. The prizes? Sizzling. Let’s show the world that the Maxwell Mob truly does dominate and that Gina L. Maxwell really does bring us Romance that moves you in more ways than one! 

World Domination Contest Rules:
  1. You need to join the Maxwell Mob. Besides being the most awesome Romance group in the history of ever, it’s a great deal of fun, and being a Mobster gives you exclusive access to advance excerpts, interviews, cover reveals, and you get to hang out with Gina. It’s a win/win. You can join on Facebook or on Goodreads – although the Facebook group is more active and it allows for all of the goodies. However, if you don’t have a Facebook account, don’t let that discourage you. If you are a Goodreads user, let us know. We’ll make sure you get the goods as well! 
  2. Have a paperback copy* of Seducing Cinderella.
    *In the interest of global fairness: for those NOT in the U.S. and unable to receive a paperback version of SC before the end of the contest, use a printed copy of the cover image somewhere in the photo in place of the paperback. THEN, attach a picture/screenshot of your paperback purchase/receipt to the email entry along with your entry picture. This makes it fair for everyone!
  3. Now here’s where the fun begins. Find Parker. And you can find him anywhere. Parker Hurley has done cover shoots for nationwide outlets such as Kohl’s and has modeled for companies like Dockers. You can really find this fellow anywhere; he’s even been seen on the back of a city bus. Chances are he may be in your house in a local ad somewhere right now! If you cannot find him in public, then get creative with collages or magazines; print out pictures…anything…so long as it’s moderately tasteful. (We did say moderately.)
  4. Take a picture with Parker and your copy of Seducing Cinderella! We want creativity! Get crazy with it! Some examples could be dressing up in costumes or duping your poor significant other into playing the role of Reid to your Lucie (in things they wore in the book, of course). We stress this part – THE MORE CREATIVE, THE BETTER. You may enter the contest more than once, but make sure it’s with a different theme. Send your awesome pictures to TheMaxwellMob@gmail.com with the following:
    1. Name
    2. Email
    3. Location (store, etc. + city, state, country)
    4. Blog name you’re representing (only if applicable)
    5. Description (optional)
  5. Contestants may submit their pictures through March 22nd. All pictures will be posted to this public Pinterest board so you can scope out the competition. Mob Officers will select the Top Ten finalists, and Parker Hurley will choose the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place winners. You heard right: the Parker Hurley will be choosing the winners, so make these entries count!
  6. So what do you get if you win? Excellent question. Gina has put together prize packages that we’re sure will tempt anyone to run to the bookstore, pull out a camera, and get clicking.

Grand Prize 
  • Framed 8x10 autographed pic of Parker Hurley
  • Paperback of Seducing Cinderella autographed by both Parker Hurley & Gina L. Maxwell 
  • Lucie's Anklet – featured in Seducing Cinderella 
  • Vanessa's Necklace – featured in the upcoming Rules of Entanglement 
  • Team Reid t-shirt
  • eBook of Rules of Entanglement 
  • Seducing Cinderella promo swag

 2nd Place 

3rd Place 
  • Team Reid t-shirt
  • eBook of Rules of Entanglement 
  • Seducing Cinderella promo swag
  • Signed bookplate

Remaining 7 finalists 
  • Seducing Cinderella promo swag
  • Signed bookplate

Individual Blog Winners 
  • BEST CONTESTANT FROM EACH BLOG will win an eBook of Rules of Entanglement

So what are you waiting for?! Get going! And don’t forget to spread the word and check the Pinterest board to see what everyone comes up with! Good luck! ;)

And now, to celebrate the paperback release of Seducing Cinderella and kick off this amazing contest, we're revealing the long-awaited and highly-anticipated book trailer created by Becca Manuel of Bibliophile Productions.

Becca is an incredibly talented and amazing person who created this solely because she loves SC and  wanted to give the world her vision of Reid and Lucie's story. I hope you love this as much as I do! 

After you watch this, you can head over to Becca's blog for another chance to win autographed paperbacks and see an interview with the sexy Reid Andrews himself!

Now, without further ado, the epic SC trailer...

Friday, November 16, 2012

Vote for Seducing Cinderella in the Goodreads Choice Awards!!!

 SEDUCING CINDERELLA is in the semifinal round for Best Romance of 2012 in the Goodreads Choice Awards!

Watch this video where I make a total fool of myself with cheesy cue cards and shameless begging for votes...


Thank you for your support!!!

Friday, September 7, 2012

Seducing Cinderella Tribute Trailer

This is a trailer my friend, Kim Anguiano, made for me. She kept it a secret and then posted it to my FB page. She's so incredibly talented. I'm definitely hiring her to do the official book trailer for the paperback release! Note the super delicious pics of Parker Hurley who was the inspiration for the hero, Reid Andrews. Enjoy!

Monday, August 27, 2012


(or, How I Went From Aspiring Author to NYT Bestselling Author in only 5 Months)

It still blows my mind that I can add that title after my name. A little over a month ago I couldn’t even claim to be a published author, much less a bestselling one. I went from being aspiring, to contracted, to published, to bestselling all in a matter of less than six months. I did it without an agent, without a traditional publisher, and without prior writing experience…and if you’re an aspiring author, I believe you can, too.

This is my story.

 Starting Clueless

When I say I had no prior writing experience, I mean that before I started my journey to publication I’d never tried my hand at fiction writing other than the short story assignments in school. English had been my favorite class and I enjoyed writing the stories, but it never entered my mind to go to college for writing. Writing novels and getting them published is what “other people” did. Other people who were meant to do big things and be a part of that big opportunity stadium that someone like me can only hope to tailgate in the parking lot without getting thrown out for not even having a parking permit. Even when I started writing, it was only meant to be a hobby; another way of immersing myself into a story other than reading. But the more I wrote for fun, the more I started to wonder if I could get published. And so began the journey.

Since I had no formal training I made myself a sponge and researched every article I could find on Google about writing good fiction and how to get published. I signed up for newsletters and RSS feeds for writing advice blogs so I’d get the latest advice sent right to my inbox. I started my own blog and met other aspiring authors with blogs and we traded snippets and regular support. I joined online writing groups and learned all the proper writing vernacular and acronyms like MS (manuscript), WC (word count), CP (critique partner), POV (point of view), and WIP (work in progress). I tried out several CPs until I found just the right ones with strengths in the areas I was weak and learned how to write better with every swap of our MSS (manuscripts). I networked my butt off and made every connection I possibly could. I researched literary agents and how to query them properly. And I did all of that while writing my first book.

Ready to Submit…Sort Of

Three years, six CPs, fourteen major rewrites, and hundreds of smaller revisions later, I finally had a product I felt was ready to be queried. I actually started querying a little earlier than I should have (I was a bit of an Eager Beaver), meaning my query letter wasn’t the best it could be, nor was my manuscript. According to my data (I used QueryTracker.net to keep track of everything) I queried approximately 30 literary agents between May and August of 2011. Some requested additional pages, some requested partials, but in the end, they all rejected my manuscript. Based on the feedback I received, I took the next three months to tweak things and polish it all up. Again. Then I started querying again in January of 2012 with a hook-tastic query letter and shiny manuscript.

While waiting to hear back from several agents, one of whom had requested a full and shown great interest in my book, I started to hear buzz through the author grapevine about Entangled Publishing, a new boutique publisher that accepted submissions from unagented writers. Remember when I said I networked my butt off? Well, it paid off in several instances, but never more than this particular one. Along the way I’d made friends with paranormal romance author, Dawn McClure, who also heads up the Savvy Author newsletters. (Savvy Authors is a fantastic website run by writers for writers. It’s a veritable font of writerly information. Get thee to the site straight away.) Early last year she’d mentioned in passing conversation that her best friend was starting up her own publishing house. 
Then early this year I asked her if she’d heard of this new publishing house called Entangled that everyone was talking about, which is when she informed me that that was the company her best friend had opened. It really can be a small world sometimes, and the more people you know, the smaller it gets.

After weighing the pros and cons of submitting my manuscript to Entangled versus holding out for the possibility of selling to New York with a literary agent—which incidentally also brought about a list of pros and cons concerning what a traditional publisher could offer me versus a more intimate publisher—I decided to go for it and submitted directly to Liz Pelletier, founder and senior editor.

The “Call”

Before Liz was a third of the way through my ms she sent me a Direct Message on Twitter telling me how much she loved it and wanted to know who else she had to beat out in order to acquire it! After I picked my jaw off the floor and stopped running around my bedroom like a crazed lunatic, I DMed her something semi-coherent and we continued to discuss for some time about the book, the trilogy it was a part of, and when we could speak on the phone. By the end of our stream of 140-character messages, I knew Entangled planned to contract me for my entire paranormal romance trilogy for digital and mass trade paperback release, and on March 7th I signed on the dotted line and became a contracted author.

New Project & New Heights

Since my Prophecy of Souls trilogy isn’t set to release until Summer 2013, Liz suggested I write a category romance for one of their digital lines to release this summer. I admit I wasn’t even sure what a category romance was, nor had I ever heard the word “trope” before, but Liz was great about encouraging me and answering any questions I had.

I wrote Seducing Cinderella in two months—which was mind-blowing to me, considering I’d spent three years on my first book—and it launched the Brazen line July 20th, marking that one of the happiest days of my life.

News of SC and its great reviews spread quickly throughout the romance world and in only seven days it reached the #9 spot on Barnes & Noble. The week after that it broke the Top 100 on Amazon and made it onto the extended USA TODAY Bestseller list at #113. Over the course of its third week it climbed to #13 for Kindle books overall on Amazon, #1 for Kindle Romance Series, #60 on USA TODAY, and—shockingly—the extended NY Times Bestseller list at #27!
My new cover w/the NYT title above my name!

To say that I was blown away by SC’s success every time I turned around is the understatement of the century.

And then this past week I received the craziest news yet: not only did Seducing Cinderella jump up on the USA TODAY* list to #33, but it also shot up to #9 (e-books) and #14 (combined) on the NYT** list!

I was fortunate enough to be on the phone with Liz when I received the email from my one of my publicists with that news. There was a lot of screaming and “Oh my Gods!” for a good ten minutes and then sporadically throughout the rest of our call.

Dare to Dream & Bring Others Along

This might sound strange, but I prefer to say I’m the “author of the NY Times Bestselling novel, Seducing Cinderella” instead of the other way around as you see it on the nametag up there. Sure, I’m the one who wrote the book, but there are so many others who had a hand in the final product and those who work hard to get it into the hands of readers. People like my editor, the cover designer, blurb writer, copyeditor, and my publicists. Without their expertise, my book wouldn’t be where it is today. I know that for a fact. And before that I have my CPs to thank for helping me write tighter, better stories.

The last month has been a surreal whirlwind of dreams come true for me, and if people can be believed, this is only the beginning, and I’m excited to see what the future holds. I know it’s cliché to say, “If it can happen to me, it can happen to you,” so I won’t push that down your throat. But if you come away with anything from my story, let it be this: learn everything you can, and immerse yourself in the world of writers. I don’t think there’s any other industry in the world where people who are technically your competition are as supportive as your own mother and will do what they can to help you and lift you up. Take advantage of that, and in turn, pay it forward whenever you can.

None of us reaches our dreams on our own. It truly does take a village to raise a book—even an author—and I’m so incredibly grateful for mine.

Ciao, bellas!

* The NYT list for ebooks is 1-25, with the extended list going through 35. The combined (print and ebooks together) list is 1-15, with the extended list going through 35.

**The USA TODAY list is 1-100, with the extended list going through 150. You cannot legitimately print that you're a NYT or USA TODAY bestselling author if you remain in either of the extended lists.

Saturday, July 21, 2012

Seducing Cinderella: RELEASE DAY!!!

Seducing Cinderella

Fighting for Love series, Book One


My beautiful cover created by Heather Howland at Entangled

Entangled Publishing
Brazen imprint
Category Romance 
E-book only
65,000 words
ISBN: 978-1-62266-949-3
Available July 20, 2012

Mixed martial arts fighter Reid Andrews’s chance to reclaim his title as light heavyweight champ is shattered when he’s injured only months before the rematch. To make sure he’s healed in time, his trainer sends him to recuperate under a professional’s care—Reid’s best friend’s little sister, all grown up.

Disorganized and bookish Lucie Miller needs some professional help of her own. She’d do anything to catch the eye of a doctor she’s crushed on for years, so when Reid offers seduction lessons in exchange for 24/7 conditioning for the biggest fight of his career, Lucie jumps at the chance.

Soon Reid finds himself in the fight of his life...winning Lucie's heart before she gives it to someone else.

My gorgeous bookmarks created by Su at Earthly Charms

Buy it online at Amazon.com
Buy it online at Barnes & Noble

Enjoy the first two chapters now!

© 2012 Gina L. Maxwell

Chapter One

Lucie Miller didn’t bother looking up when she heard the knock on her office door. Her next physical therapy patient was early, which irked her since she hadn’t even completed the paperwork from the previous appointment. She pushed her glasses back in the proper place. He could just cool his heels in the hallway for the next ten minutes while she fini—
The knock came again, a little more insistently this time, and her resolve to not cater to someone else’s wishes crumbled, as usual. Dropping her pen to the sheaf of papers in front of her, she called out, “Come in.”
A head of perfectly styled dark hair popped around the edge of the door. “Hope I’m not disturbing you.”
Before she could order her heart to behave, it skipped a beat at the mellowy-smooth voice of Dr. Stephen Mann, Director of Sports Medicine and major hottie at Northern Nevada Medical Center. At warp speed, her brain performed an unsolicited catalog of her appearance, spitting out the usual diagnosis of “plain and disheveled.” Holding back a disappointing sigh and the urge to smooth a hand over the strands of hair that escaped her ponytail, she gave him her best smile. “Not at all. I didn’t forget another meeting, did I?”
Twin dimples winked at her. “No, not today.”
He turned to close the door, and her pulse raced. As an orthopedic surgeon, he’d visited her less-than-impressive office in the Rehab and Sports Med Center plenty of times to discuss mutual patients. But not once had he ever closed the door.
Trying hard not to race to conclusions, she gestured in front of her. “Please, have a seat.”
Lucie glanced to the single visitor chair piled high with file folders, old newspapers, and research articles. She swore she felt her cheeks actually change color as she bolted around her desk. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. Here, let me just—”
“That’s all right, you don’t have to—”
“No, I insist.” She gathered the haphazard paper mountain in her arms. Not for the first time, or even the hundredth time, she wished she weren’t so disorganized. Spinning in a quick circle, she searched for a place to stash the mess. Stacks just like the one she held lined the walls of her office on the floor and over every square inch of desk and file cabinet space. Finally she gave up and just plopped the pile into her chair before turning her attention to her guest. God, why couldn’t she be smooth and put-together like other women? Like the kind Stephen dated. “So, what brings you down into the bowels of the hospital this afternoon?”
He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. Normally, the gorgeous doctor was the picture of confidence. It was the reason women literally sighed in his wake. Well, that and his easy charm and Ken-doll good looks complete with killer smile.
“The hospital’s annual charity dinner and dance is only two months away, and whereas a guy only has to rent a tux and show up, I’m aware that a woman needs ample time to shop for a dress and schedule all sorts of hair and nail appointments and whatever else it is that you women do to make yourselves beautiful.”
Lucie’s throat closed, and her fingers flew to fidget with her necklace. This was it. They’d worked together for years, sometimes even staying hours past their shifts to work on mutual cases, ordering bad Chinese when their brains refused to quit but their stomachs could no longer be ignored. They’d always been intellectually compatible, and their mutual obsession to help patients recover quicker and better bonded them as nothing else could. She’d loved him for years, but he’d never asked her out. Never made a move, instead preferring to date classy businesswomen he met during happy hour at the posh Club Caliente down the street.
But now he was here. In her office. Talking about the hospital ball. Dear God, please don’t let her faint. Taking a slow, deep breath, Lucie tried for casual. “Are you trying to ask me something, Stephen?” And failed miserably. Damn.
A strong hand rubbed at the back of his neck, and he gave her the cutest look of embarrassment. “Ah, yeah. I’m not doing a very good job of it, am I?”
“No, you’re doing fine!” Too much enthusiasm. Double damn!
“I know I should’ve brought this up before. And I really did want to ask that night I saw you at Club Caliente last month, but I hesitated and then you left. I was hoping I’d see you there again because it doesn’t quite seem appropriate to inquire about a date here at the office, you know?”
Her mind flashed back to the one night she’d ever stepped foot in the overcrowded, overpriced club. Her best friend, Vanessa MacGregor, had just won a really difficult case and wanted to celebrate with a few drinks and some dancing. Instead of going to their usual hangout, Fritz’s, Vanessa convinced Lucie to meet her at the much closer meat market of a club. They’d only been there for an hour tops before leaving. The club was like a frat house on steroids with a country club clientele. The rest of their night had been spent downing tap beer and hustling guys at darts in a proper celebration.
“Oh, don’t worry,” she assured him. “I mean, not down here. The only person that could possibly hear us right now is Mr. Kramer on the treadmill out there, but the door is shut and even if it wasn’t, I don’t think he remembers to turn his hearing aid up very often, so the chances of him hearing us over the noise of the mach—”
“Sorry.” Oh my God, would you shut up already? You’re babbling like an idiot! “You were saying?”
He took a deep breath and exhaled like he was preparing to BASE jump from the roof of the hospital instead of asking her on a date. “I was trying to get your friend’s number.”
“The girl you were with that night. Is she seeing anyone?”
“Vanessa?” Lucie’s mind scrambled as it tried to follow the sharp turn off the path the conversation had previously been headed. Or where she’d thought it had been headed. She was such an idiot. “Um, no, she’s not seeing anyone…”
Every muscle in his body visibly relaxed as he stood, his easy smile returning to hit her with both dimples right between the eyes. “That’s great! Can I get her number? I don’t want to take the chance of waiting till the last minute to ask her. I’d like to take her on a few dates before the big event, too. You know, get to know each other better. Lord knows you can never have a decent conversation at that charity dinner without someone interrupting with shoptalk. Lucie? Are you listening?”
“What? No. I mean, yes, I’m listening. Yes, you’re right. It’s definitely not conducive to first-date discussions.” Lucie dropped her gaze to the organized disaster on her desk. Vanessa would have a panic attack if she saw it. Her friend was hyperorganized, always put together on the inside and out, never a hair out of place or an emotion uncalled for. Add in the perfect Barbie-doll looks and you had the kind of woman Stephen Mann was drawn to. The kind of woman she was most definitely not.
“Soooo… Can I have her number? Or maybe you’re playing the role of protective friend and would prefer to grill me about my intentions first,” he teased. “Maybe ask me why I think I’m good enough for her, something like that?”
She couldn’t help the small lift at the corner of her mouth. “As if you couldn’t be good enough for someone. You’re charming, smart, handsome, and successful. How could that amount to ‘not good enough’ by anyone’s standards?”
He winked. “I am quite the catch, aren’t I? Be sure to tell Vanessa that when she tells you I called her. That is, if you ever give me her number.”
“Oh! Right, sorry. Uh…” She looked around for a Post-it note or scratch piece of paper. She knew she had some, and if she could stop and think for a minute, she’d know right where they were, but somewhere in the last five minutes she’d been given a full frontal lobotomy and now she couldn’t function.
Giving up, she grabbed her pen and his hand and scribbled Vanessa’s cell number onto his palm. She had to force herself to release him before she did something stupid like add an exclamation mark and “accidentally” use too much force for the dot, puncturing his smooth skin with the tip of her ballpoint. “There you go. All set. Now you’ll have to excuse me. I, um, have a new patient who should be here any minute.”
“I won’t take up any more of your time then. Thanks, Lucie.” Using his ink-free hand he grabbed the knob and opened the door before looking back and adding, “I owe you one.”
She pasted what she hoped was at least a facsimile of a smile on her face as best she could. “I’ll keep that in mind, doctor.”
As soon as he was gone she sank into her chair, not even bothering to move the stack of papers before she did so. This wasn’t anything new. In fact, being overlooked for someone else was typical. By now, she should be immune to the hurt that came with it. What was that phrase? Old hat. Yes, that’s it. By now, this should be old hat, and it wasn’t even the first time a guy she liked was interested in her friend. But it still hurt. A lot.
There was no fooling herself any longer. She would never be the object of the doctor’s desire. And though the realist in her said it didn’t matter—that all she needed was compatibility and companionship with someone else—as her future came into sharp focus, the dreamer in her allowed herself to shed the tears that blurred the world in front of her.

Chapter Two

“Can you point me in the direction of the physical therapy department?” Where some arrogant ass will give me exercises fit for a toddler, essentially castrating me in the process…
To say Reid Andrews was in a foul mood was a total understatement, but that didn’t mean the hospital receptionist deserved his wrath. He listened as she gave him directions and thanked her as he set off.
The closer he got to his destination, the more his muscles bunched in irritation. He shouldn’t be here. He should be back in Vegas, working his injury out with his coach and team doc. Not Sparks, Nevada—which was practically Reno and way too close for comfort to his hometown of Sun Valley to the north. Now he would be working with someone who had no concept of his sport or how important it was for him to get back in the cage as soon as possible to prep for his rematch.
For as long as he could remember, he’d been fighting. Fighting in the sport he loved above all else—Mixed Martial Arts, or MMA—to get to the top, and then fighting his ass off to stay there. Fifteen years later, he was one of the richest light-heavyweight fighters in the UFC, with a record of 34-3 and a fanbase of millions. Of course none of that mattered now because if he couldn’t get healthy in time for the rematch, his career was over.
A doctor talking on his cell and checking his pager crowded Reid around a corner and bumped into him. The guy didn’t even look back to apologize as he continued to clip down the hallway. Reid clenched his jaw and held his right shoulder as he waited for the pain to subside. Even from an impact so small it hurt like a bitch.
He had one of the most aggravating injuries a fighter could have: a torn rotator cuff. To literally add insult to injury, it hadn’t even happened in a fight. He’d gotten the damn thing while training for his title fight. Thirty-four was almost ancient for a fighter, especially one who’d been at it for as long as he had, and his body was starting to reflect that, injury by godforsaken injury.
Sidestepping an old lady traveling at the speed of a land snail, Reid cursed his trainer, Butch, for sending him here.
Shortly after Reid had had the surgery to repair his right shoulder, the camp’s sports medicine doc needed to return home to take care of his ailing father. Scotty wasn’t expected to be back for a couple of months, and since Reid was the only injured one in the camp, Butch set him up with a local PT for the interim. But if Reid kept working with that guy he wouldn’t be ready to fight until he was fifty, so he’d taken his therapy into his own hands.
Unfortunately, Butch got hip to what he was doing and balled him out for not listening to Scotty’s replacement and taking it easy. But Reid didn’t know the meaning of taking it easy. His mottos were more than just your average motivational fodder. He lived by things like “give more than your everything or you’ll amount to nothing” and “if you didn’t come to win, you should’ve stayed the fuck home.” Shit like that had been drilled into him since he was old enough to throw a punch at his old man’s command.
He refused to accept the possibility of not completely healing in the next two months, thereby losing his shot at ever reclaiming his title. Every year the sport produced younger and better fighters, and it was becoming increasingly difficult for the older fighters to compete. That’s why Reid trained as hard as he did. There would always be some guy who wanted his belt and was working his ass off for a chance to take it, so he had to train and prepare that much harder to keep it. He was pissed as hell Butch had given him an ultimatum: leave camp and do PT the right way or he was pulling the fight.
Fuck. That.
Fine, whatever. He’d make his coach happy and go to this lame PT shit. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to treat it any differently than he did his regular training. He didn’t have time to dick around. He needed to get back to Vegas a.s.a.p. so he could reclaim what was rightfully his.
Reid pushed open the double doors and walked through a large room resembling the inside of a YMCA. Treadmills, ellipticals, weight sets, and exercise balls. No sparring cage. No floor mats. No punching bags. However there was an old man of about eighty-plus years walking so slow on a treadmill that he was practically immobile.
“This blows,” he mumbled as he approached the small office with his PT’s name, Lucinda Miller, on the partially closed door. He raised his hand to give a quick rap before announcing himself, but paused when he heard soft sniffles coming from the bowed head of a brunette sitting behind the desk. At least he assumed it was a desk. It was hard to tell what was under the stacks of files and papers. Instead of knocking, he cleared his throat. “Sorry, this a bad time?”
The woman spun her chair around to face the back wall, hitting her knee on a file cabinet in the process and muttering an expletive he’d bet she didn’t use publicly very often. Though he hadn’t seen her face yet, he couldn’t help but find her clumsiness sort of cute. When she grabbed a Kleenex from somewhere on her floor and blew her nose he was reminded that she was in a vulnerable moment. “I can come back.”
“No, no.” She blew her nose and then gestured behind her without turning around. “If you could just go have a seat in the next room, I’ll be right with you.”
Sounded good. As much as he hated to see a woman upset, it was bad enough having to console someone he knew, much less a woman he didn’t. Finding the room, Reid leaned his hips on the padded table, absentmindedly cracking his knuckles as he waited. It was only another minute before she breezed in, eyes on his file, while making a beeline to the small desk along the wall.
“I’m terribly sorry about that,” she said. “Let me just take a brief moment to look this over and we’ll get down to business.”
“Take your time.” Something about her voice poked at his brain. Almost like he’d heard it before.
“Okay, Mr. Johnson, let’s take a look at—”
They froze as recognition took hold.
It had been several years—shit, six, maybe even seven or more, he couldn’t remember—since the last time he’d seen his best friend’s little sister. Her face was blotchy with her eyes rimmed in red from crying so he almost hadn’t realized it was her, but the freckle at the outer corner of her left eye vaguely shaped like a heart gave her away. It was just barely visible under the dark-rimmed, rectangular glasses she wore.
“Oh my gosh,” she said, giving his waist a hard squeeze. It’d been so long since he’d seen anyone from their hometown, and besides her brother, she’d be the only person he’d care to see. He returned her hug, tucking his head down to hers. Her hair smelled like a mix of flowers and summer, so different from the heavy perfume concoctions he was used to women wearing.
She released him, taking a seat on the swivel stool in front of the desk while tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear. “I can’t believe it’s you. Wait, why does my chart say Randy Johnson?”
Reid chuckled at the ridiculous name he used for anonymity. “It’s an alias.” Wanting to erase the pained look from whatever had happened before he arrived, he gave her a wicked smile and added, “And sometimes a state of being.”
Her brows gathered together for the few seconds it took to sink in, then her cheeks flushed with color and her eyes grew wide. “Reid!”
He couldn’t have stopped his laugh if he wanted to. The shocked look on her face was totally worth it. “Come on, Lu-Lu, you can’t still be that innocent after all these years.”
“My innocence or lack thereof is none of your business, Andrews. And be forewarned: if anyone hears you call me one of those ridiculous nicknames, I’ll stab you in the jugular with my pen.”
He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Fair enough, Lubert.” She rolled her eyes, but he interrupted her before she could get a good mad on. “Speaking of names, what’s up with Lucinda Miller? I don’t see a ring. You in the witness protection plan or something?”
She averted her eyes, suddenly finding that her name tag needed repinning. “No. I was married briefly in college. Jackson probably didn’t tell you about it because we eloped and it didn’t last very long.” She cleared her throat and smiled at him, but it barely reached her cheeks, much less her eyes. “You know how it is. Capricious youth and all that. I just never bothered to change my name back. But at least I still have the same initials, right?”
Her attempt at disguising her true feelings reminded him of what he’d walked in on. Something or someone had hurt her, and it instantly called on his protective instincts. After all, Lucie wasn’t just any woman. He’d grown up with her trailing after him and her brother, Jackson Maris. And since Jax, also a UFC fighter, was in Hawaii with his training camp and couldn’t help make things right for his little sister, Reid would gladly step in.
“Why were you crying, Lu?”
“Oh, that?” She waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing. I have terrible seasonal allergies and sometimes they get so bad I sound like a blubbering, sniveling mess, that’s all.”
He scoffed. “This is why Jax and I never let you tag along on our more devious ‘misadventures.’ You’re a terrible liar and wouldn’t have lasted five seconds under parental interrogation.”
She stood, placing her hands on her hips. “Well according to your trainer, you’re a terrible patient, so I guess we both have our faults. Now, unless you want to waste your entire session on pointless chatter, I suggest you let me assess your injury.”
Reid recognized a brick wall when he ran into one. She wasn’t going to talk about it…yet. One way or another he’d get it out of her. “Fine. Assess away, Luey.” Reaching between his shoulder blades with his left arm, he pulled his T-shirt off over his head, taking care not to jostle his right arm too much. He tossed the shirt onto the chair in the corner.
“How much PT have you had since the operation?”
“I don’t know, the usual amount, I guess. A session a day or so. But it wasn’t enough so I was doing some extra training on the side.”
She paused and arched a brow at him. “In other words, you were overdoing it, which is counterproductive to your recovery.”
“‘Overdoing it’ is such a subjective term.”
“No, it’s not, Reid. Anything more than what your doctor or therapist instructs is overdoing it. If I’m going to help you, you need to do exactly as I say. If you can manage that, I’ll have you as good as new in about four months.”
“What? Didn’t Butch tell you about my rematch in two months? I need to fight on that card, Luce. Diaz has my belt, and I’m taking it back.”
Lucie shook her head. “Reid that’s insane. Even if I devoted the majority of my time to you, I can’t guarantee you’ll be ready to fight that soon.”
“Bullshit. You have to say that as a professional, but take into account who your patient is. I’m not like the other people you work on. I’m not your Average Joe trying to eventually get back to normal. I’m a highly trained athlete who’s had to recover from more injuries in the last fifteen years than a hundred Average Joes put together.”
She sighed. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with here, first, okay, hotshot? Sit.”
Reid hopped onto the table and tried not to tense up at the idea of having his arm manipulated. He had a high tolerance for pain, but that didn’t mean her exam wouldn’t be enough to set his teeth on edge.
“Extend your arm to the side and try to keep it there as I push it down.” He lasted only a few seconds before he released the pose with a muttered curse. She pretended not to notice and put him through a couple more strength tests where he managed to keep his swearing rants inside his head. Yay him.
“Okay, last one, Reid. Place your hand in front of your stomach and try to hold it there as I pull it away from your body.”
Clenching his jaw and his left fist he tried thinking of something other than the sickening pain shooting from his shoulder. But as bad as the pain was, the fact that he was so weak and couldn’t hide it was much worse.
“All right, you can relax now.” She made some notes in his file, then turned back and asked, “On a pain scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst pain you can imagine, how are you feeling at the moment?”
“A four. Maybe even a three.”
She arched her brow and crossed her arms over her chest. “Spare me the macho shit, Andrews. I’m not here to challenge your virility. If you want me to do my job, then you have to be one hundred percent honest with me.”
He pinned her with a glare that made men twice her size reconsider stepping into the octagon with him. Lucie didn’t even flinch. He would’ve commended her for it had he not been so aggravated with the whole situation. “Fine. A six,” he grumbled. “But some days are better than others.”
“Don’t worry, that’s normal. Now lay facedown on the table. I want to do a couple more things.”
“You got awfully bossy in your old age, you know that?” He was a tad disappointed she didn’t rise to the bait, but offered a sarcastic Mm-hmm instead as he arranged his body on the table. With his left arm up to cradle the side of his face, he let his eyes close as she began to work on him.
Her delicate fingertips probed the muscles around his shoulder. He had no idea what she was looking for, but he hoped she searched for a while. Her touch felt so much better than how he was usually handled. Of course Scotty’s hands weren’t as soft, but it was more than that. It was the technique she used; like he wasn’t just a fighter made of hardened muscle that could handle rough, prodding fingers, but rather a man who’d asked for a gentle massage after a long day.
He heard a soft sniffle, and it set his mind to wondering what had upset her so much. Growing up he’d practically been Lucie’s second older brother, and it bothered him to know something was wrong.
Whatever it was, she was doing her best to avoid—“Ah, shit!”
“Yeah, right,” he said wryly. “That was probably payback for using your floppy bunny as a lawn-dart target.”
He couldn’t see her face, but he heard the smile when she spoke. “I forgot all about that. Jackson got grounded for three days and my mom had to sew all the little holes together. She told me he was a war hero who was going through surgery to get patched up before receiving a medal from the president.”
“Your mom was always good for a story. Jax and I counted on her to give us all our background information for our pretend missions as kids.”
“Mom was something special all right. I still miss her bedtime stories.”
Lucie’s parents had died in a car accident the summer after he and Jackson graduated high school and she was just thirteen. Jackson chose to raise Lucie instead of pawning her off on another relative, which is why he wasn’t as far in his MMA career as Reid. It was an honorable thing, and it was obvious he’d done a damn fine job, too.
Just then it hit him. “It’s a guy, isn’t it?”
Her hands stilled for only a moment, but it was long enough to give him the answer he was looking for. “Is it tender when I press here?”
Like bad heartburn, an unfamiliar lividity rose up for the general male population until he could aim it at the one who deserved it. Pushing up with his left arm he swung his body around to face her.
“What are you doing? I’m not done.”
“You are until you tell me who he is and what the hell he did,” he growled.
“Quid pro quo, Lu. You tell me who made you cry and why, and I promise to not find out on my own, hunt him down, and kick his teeth down his throat for putting that look on your face.”
He almost regretted throwing down the harsh threat when her face blanched, but if that was the only way he could get her to open up, then so be it. “Here, hop up on the table. We’ll switch places,” he said as he stood. When she opened her mouth to brook an argument he narrowed his gaze to show her he wasn’t kidding. With a resigned sigh she did as he wanted, albeit not happily.
“There, now you’re the patient.” Despite the pain it caused in his shoulder, he braced his hands on either side of her hips, preventing an escape should she decide it was the better alternative. “So, Miss Miller,” he said looking into her soft gray eyes, “tell me where it hurts.”