Laurie Paige - Christmas Kisses For A Dollar

“Laurie Paige doesn’t miss…”

—New York Times bestselling author Catherine Coulter

“Laurie Paige adds humor and wit to a touching love story filled with heartfelt emotion and a thrilling cast of supporting characters.”

—Romantic Times BOOKclub on Christmas Kisses for a Dollar

“It is always a joy to savor the consistent excellence of this outstanding author.”

—Romantic Times BOOKclub

reports that she is working on her seventieth romance book. She is still married to her high school sweetheart. It’s cold and snowy in the mountains of northern California where she lives, but when she checks the weather news on TV, she notes the temperatures in New Orleans and other cities that got hit by Hurricane Katrina. While many people have found refuge in other states, she knows that, in the landscape of the heart, there’s no place like home.

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This book is for Tara, who said, “Yes, you can” after I explained all the reasons I couldn’t. With thanks and warm fuzzies.

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Christmas Kisses—$1.00

Jonathan Sinclair smiled at the provocative banner wafting in the December breeze. The sign, attached to two trees, floated over a booth wreathed in holly and cedar boughs. The occasion appeared to be an old-fashioned bazaar in the school yard.

He stopped at a red light and used the opportunity to assess the group waiting to buy a kiss. The line was long. He couldn’t see the woman from this angle, but the guys were young—some of them teenagers, he guessed, in line on a dare from their friends, most likely—while the rest were probably in their twenties, maybe thirties.

All single, he assumed. They didn’t have the look of men who were shackled to shrews, which, from his observations of life, were what women became once they got a man to the altar.

Or even before, as his own experience proved.

A shudder ran clear down to his toes as he remembered his close call in this very town. He’d been eighteen when the girl next door, who’d been twenty, had tried to trap him into marriage with the oldest trick in the book. Few people had believed he’d been innocent as he’d claimed.

It had been a learning experience. He went on the alert when women came on to him in too friendly a manner, and he suspected ulterior motives behind their smiles.

The light changed. He waited with resigned patience for the crowd to amble past the lined crosswalk. When the street was clear, he turned the corner.

Everyone in the county was in town for the festivities, it seemed. He grimaced at his poor timing and looked for a parking space near the feed-and-seed store. The fertilizer he’d ordered last week was in. All he wanted was to pick it up and get back to the ranch.

The ranch. Three hundred acres of pines and pasture, two hundred head of cattle and a commercial plant nursery.

He’d never expected to inherit the place although he’d loved it as a kid. He’d lit out on his own right after high school, off to see the world. His parents had been upset, but they hadn’t tried to stop him. They’d understood his restlessness.

Sorrow momentarily overshadowed the bright day. They’d died last spring in a flash flood, a known hazard in Texas. He still couldn’t believe they were gone. Life was short.…

He directed his thoughts to the present. He intended to revive the successful ranch operation his grandfather had run. Once the place was booming again, he’d sell the whole works, make some money and head out for parts unknown.

That was what he was good at—fixing up a rundown enterprise and selling it at a profit, then moving on. He’d learned to do that well in the years he’d been on his own and had made a good-size fortune by speculating in floundering companies. Of course he’d lost a bundle, too.

He spotted a parking space and whipped into it before the guy in the fancy car who was also eyeing the spot could beat him to it. With a triumphant grin of one-upmanship, Jon leapt to the ground from the pickup.

The breeze, straight off the Gulf of Mexico, gave him a damp caress. He’d been living in the far west where spit dried before it hit the ground. Here, thirty miles up Highway 12 from Beaumont, Texas, the air was humid year-round. It took a while to get used to that again.

Laughter from the cowboys lined up for the kisses caught his attention. He paused and glanced over the bed of the pickup to see what was going on…and stopped dead still. Then he simply stared at the woman who stood in the booth.

She was the loveliest, sexiest creature he’d ever seen.

Her hair was black—pure raven black. The sun glinted off it with no hints of red or blond in the deep waves that cascaded over her shoulders. It invited a man to sink his hands into it, to tangle his fingers in the long, shiny strands…to use it to hold her while he dropped kisses all over her mouth.

Her smile was radiant, her lips full and luscious. She wore a rosy-red lipstick, but he was willing to bet the color in her cheeks was natural.

It was her eyes that made her irresistible. They were blue with a touch of gray and maybe violet. He couldn’t tell for sure from this distance. Her lashes were long and black, weighting the lids and giving her a languorous air…as if she’d recently climbed out of bed after making the most tempestuous love a man could imagine.

His body surged to life at the thought.

Yeah, he could see what the big attraction was. If the line hadn’t been so long, he might have been tempted to join it.

Shaking his head at his own foolishness, he crossed the street to the store. It was locked. The sign in the window said the owner was at the bazaar and would open again at one.

Jon glanced at his watch. Five after twelve. He might as well eat lunch. If anything was open. For all he knew, the whole town had closed down to attend the event.

He headed across the street toward the school yard where there were several food booths. He spotted a hot-dog stand run by the rotary club. A sign explained that the proceeds of the bazaar were to go to a new gym for the local school. Well, he’d do his part for the community effort.

Another sweep of laughter sounded from the kissing booth. He paused in the shade of an oak tree about twenty feet away and watched as a bashful youth was egged on by his friends to take his kiss. When the boy handed over the dollar, the Venus in the kissing booth caught the kid by the ears and gave him a loud buss on the cheek. The boy blushed as red as the boiled shrimp on display at the seafood booth, but tossed his friends a proud grin as he strutted toward them across the lawn.

Heat swept over Jon and set a flame in his nether parts. There were certain circumstances during which he didn’t mind a woman holding on to his ears, either. He unobtrusively ran a hand down the front of his jeans to make sure he wasn’t about to bust his zipper. Good thing he’d put on briefs that morning.