03 September 2013

Price of a Kiss by Linda Kage - Excerpt Tour, Giveaway

Price of a Kiss
By: Linda Kage

I don’t care what my cousin says; I am not the queen of impossible relationships.  
I mean, just because my last boyfriend tried to kill me and left a bit of a scar on my neck, then forced me to move across the country and legally change my name to Reese Randall to escape him, does not mean— 
Oh, who am I kidding? For a freshman in college, I have to have the worst dating track record ever. 
It’s no wonder love is the last thing on my mind when Mason Lowe enters my life. But the chemistry between us is like bam! Our connection defies logic. And he’s just so freaking hot. Being around him makes me feel more alive than I’ve ever felt before. I even like bickering with him. He could be my soul mate...except for one teeny tiny glitch. 
He's a gigolo.

With his back to me, a sopping wet Mason Lowe wore nothing but a towel as he leaned over the vanity and held onto its sides as if the sink were the only thing keeping him upright.

I could see his slightly bowed face perfectly in the mirror above. He’d squeezed his eyes closed, and a ragged expression contorted his features while creases of haggard regret etched deep grooves into the skin around his mouth and eyes.

I gasped when I saw the scratch marks on his bare, upper back, just under his shoulder blades and right where a pair of feminine fingernails might grip him if he’d had a woman lying under him very recently.

Lashes popping open, he looked up and saw me in the mirror.


As Mason cursed from obvious shock and reeled around, I squeaked out my own surprise and leapt back, freaked because I’d been caught ogling him. We gaped at each other with wide eyes through the opened doorway of the bathroom.

I know, I know. He was naked under that strip of terrycloth—please, God, don’t remind me. The ladylike thing to do in this situation would have been—let me repeat, would have been—to instantly turn away and apologize for intruding into his shower time, and then flee in mortified embarrassment as fast as my legs could carry me. I fully realized that.

But seriously. He was naked under that terrycloth. Hello. Fully clothed, Mason Lowe was one hell of a yumsicle. But shirtless, he was simply indescribable. Since I’m so giving, however, I will certainly attempt to describe him to the best of my ability, even though it’ll be such a hardship.

The white towel draped around his waist was loose and had slipped just enough to hang low, showcasing his flat, toned abdomen. A light sprinkle of dark hair growing around his innie bellybutton stretched down, disappearing under the towel, making me want to lick my lips and purr—or more to the point, it made me want to lick those perfect abs and that enticing happy trail.

And brace yourself for this one, ladies: He had a tattoo. I know. I almost spontaneously combusted right then and there. Stretching across his left bulging hip muscle was an honest to God tattoo. It said one, maybe two, words in what looked to be one of those impossible-to-read fonts. And it was somewhat obscured by the beginning of that aggravating towel.

Unable to help myself—hey, you try to restrain with a half-naked, tattooed Mason Lowe in front of you—I tilted my head to the side and leaned forward, squinting in an effort to read—

He snatched up a handful of towel, pulling it snug around his hips and lifting the waistline enough to hide his tattoo completely—the fun hater. Grabbing the door with his other hand as if he was going to slam it in my face, he demanded, “What the hell are you doing here?”

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Linda grew up on a dairy farm in the Midwest as the youngest of eight children. Now she lives in Kansas with her husband, toddler daughter, and their nine cuckoo clocks. She works a day job in the acquisitions department of a university library and feels her life has been blessed with lots of people to learn from and love. Writing's always been a major part her world, and she's thrilled to finally share some of her stories with other romance lovers.