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Physical Therapy

Physical Therapy

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Physical Therapy

3/5 (1 valutazione)
51 pagine
40 minuti
Jun 25, 2014


The ripping sound of her torn shoulder muscle replays in Tasha's mind over and over, that is, until she meets the therapist bent on helping her recover. Ethan is a professional. He doesn't stray from his goals, he doesn't falter. But Tasha's quick wit and sweet personality make staying professional a massive challenge. Will recovery come to mean something more than a functional shoulder for Tasha and Ethan?
Jun 25, 2014

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Physical Therapy - Aysel Quinn


Physical Therapy


Aysel Quinn

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Physical Therapy

COPYRIGHT © 2014 by Aysel Quinn

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information:

Cover Art by RJ Morris

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at

Publishing History

First Sweetheart Rose Edition, 2014

Digital ISBN 978-1-62830-331-5

Published in the United States of America

Praise for Aysel Quinn

A fun and fanciful romance in an unexpected context.

~Janet Enova


For Palin

Searing pain crawled through my entire body as I crumpled to the ground, unmindful of the sweat-damp mat crushing into my flesh as I writhed. I was only vaguely aware of the random people hovering over me until one of them, in a staff uniform, pushed down on my shoulder. I thought it was a gentle poke, but I screamed to high heaven as if my arm had been torn out of its socket.

Dizzy and nauseous, I was helped to my feet and led out of the gym to my waiting car, my roommate, Nell, behind the wheel. I hadn’t seen her leave, but I hadn’t seen much at all after the accident. I would never listen to Nell about anything, ever again. Just because she thought it would bring that Tasha pep back didn’t give her license to drag me to a gym where she had to know I’d somehow injure myself. So maybe I was a little weak in the muscle area, and maybe I was about as flexible as a flagpole, but what of it?

I was happy being tone-less. Mostly. Thank you, stupid Sean and your stupid new model girlfriend for that mostly. Jackass.

It took Nell three months after Sean dumped me for that conniving Brazilian bimbo to convince me to use her gym guest pass, and one hour for me to dislocate my shoulder and tear two tendons. In yoga class. At least it was that fast-paced yoga with a long name, like Hurtsalotavada, but still. I knew a terrible idea when I heard one, and I should have listened to my gut.

Nell seemed properly remorseful as she drove me to the hospital and stayed with me through the rounds of x-rays and waiting and doctors and waiting and sling-fitting and paying. That one hour of yoga cost me two thousand dollars, two weeks off work due to painkillers, and the promise of more wretched pain in physical therapy. At least I didn’t have to have surgery, but I still wanted to bill Sean.


I dreaded going into the bleak-looking medical building and shuffled my feet as I approached the door to the physical therapy suite. As I expected, the waiting area was full of teenage boys and elderlies. Great. The atmosphere of the room was as hostile as I felt inside, no one looking forward to being poked, prodded, and generally made miserable. I filled out the necessary forms, and realized as I reviewed my therapy prescription that recovery demanded my presence here twice a week for two dismal months. I sighed and took a seat to await my doom.

Only a few minutes had passed when

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