Blog Tour: Seducing Cinderella and Rules of Entanglement by Gina L.

He’ll teach her the art of seduction…for a price.

Seducing Cinderella and Rules of Entanglement, the first two books in the titillating, sports romance series; Fighting For Love from New York Times bestselling author Gina L. Maxwell are both now available with bonus content!

Only months before reclaiming his championship title, mixed martial artist Reid Andrews suffers a serious injury. Fortunately, his trainer knows the perfect physical therapist to get Reid healed and back into fighting shape—the little sister of Reid’s best friend. But Lucie is no longer a little girl, and she’s more than capable of handling a bad boy with a bad attitude.

Lucie Miller needs some professional help of her own. Bookish girls don’t usually land the hot guys, and she’s gone unnoticed by a certain doctor for way too long. So when her childhood crush offers her lessons in seduction in exchange for getting him ready for the biggest night of his career, Lucie jumps at the chance.

But when his feelings begin to change, Reid finds himself in the fight of his life, and it’s not even in the octagon. Now he needs to switch up his game plan if he wants to win Lucie’s heart…before she gives it to somebody else.

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Keep reading for a look inside Seducing Cinderella!

“Never mind. It’s not important.” Turning around, he was about to call the assistant back to help gather the outfits, but Lucie grabbed his hand to stop him, placing herself square in his line of sight again.

“Yes, it is. I can see it in your eyes, it’s important to you. Please tell me.”

Her words, combined with her fingers pressing into the center of his palm, were like an infusion of mental cortisone. It wouldn’t fix the problem, but it numbed the pain just enough to get the job done. Taking a deep breath, he told her what he’d only ever told Jax. “I enjoyed sculpting. I liked that I could create with the same hands I used to destroy my opponents in the cage. You’re right. I do see things differently. I don’t just see an apple, but I see the individual curves and lines that make up that apple, including the bruise on one side that makes a flat spot roughly the size of a thumbprint.

“But people don’t want to know that about me. They want to know what I’m doing to cut weight, what new routines my trainers are putting me through, and whether I think I’ll come away with my hand raised in my next fight. It’s what I’m good at. It’s who I am.”

“You’re wrong, though,” she said, taking a small step forward. “Who you are isn’t just one thing. It’s everything you’re passionate about. You can be a sculptor, Reid, and still be a fighter if that’s what you want.”

The tenderness in her conviction made him want to hold her in his arms and kiss that heart-shaped freckle at the corner of her soft gray eyes. Eyes that saw remarkably through his bullshit and glimpsed his soul.

“You know what I want? I want to eat.” He caught the attention of their sales lady with a wave of his arm. “Help her with the tags on this one, please. She’s wearing it out of the store. Then we’ll take everything else she tried on. Thanks.”

When he handed over his credit card, Lucie pinned him with a glare. He was glad she wore her contacts today. She looked all hot-librarian in her glasses, but he preferred this unobstructed view of her expressive dove-gray eyes. Even if their current expression said she was clearly pissed off.

“Now what’s wrong?”

She crossed her arms under her breasts and lifted her chin. “I might not be a big-time UFC celebrity, but I’m far from indigent. I’ll pay for my own clothes.”

Of all the things he’d expected her to say, that wasn’t even in the bunch. Reid wasn’t used to women who insisted on paying for themselves when they were with him. He had more money than he knew what to do with from his fights and product endorsements. That she even wanted to buy the clothes he insisted she get in the first place spoke volumes of her character.

“Luce,” he said, pulling her arms down so he could hold her hands, effectively breaking the body language that would remind her of her anger. “I know you can buy your own clothes. You’re a successful, strong, independent woman who doesn’t need anyone to take care of her.”

The fire in her eyes fizzled a little as he worked to break through her guard. “That’s right, I don’t.”

“However, the new wardrobe was my idea, so I’m going to buy you the clothes, and then I’m taking you out to dinner.” She was just about to argue—it seemed to be the woman’s favorite past time, for chrissakes—so he placed a finger on her lips and said, “No arguments. I’m going to head over to the men’s store and get something more appropriate than these cargo shorts and polo. And grab some ibuprofen for this damn shoulder. Wait here and I’ll be back to pick you up.”

He removed his finger and turned to leave when he heard, “But⁠—”

With a growl of frustration, he grabbed her by the nape and pulled her against him as he planted his lips on hers. She stiffened and a shocked squeak came from somewhere in the back of her throat. But a moment later the squeak became a tiny moan and her body melted into him. Deep in his mind, his conscience screamed the words hands-off approach, but his libido was quick to tackle it to the mat, knocking the wind out of the suddenly unwelcome reminder.