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Authors: Helena Hunting

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THE END

ABOUT THE AUTHOR HELENA HUNTING

NYT and USA Today bestselling author of PUCKED, Helena Hunting lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her incredibly tolerant family and two moderately intolerant cats. She's writes contemporary romance ranging from new adult angst to romantic sports comedy.

CONNECT WITH HELENA HUNTING

 

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OTHER TITLES BY HELENA HUNTING

 

PUCKED SERIES

Pucked (Pucked #1)

Pucked Up (Pucked #2)

Pucked Over (Pucked #3, coming January 2016)

 

 

THE CLIPPED WINGS SERIES

Cupcakes and Ink

Clipped Wings

Between the Cracks

Inked Armor

Cracks in the Armor

 

STANDALONE NOVELS

The Librarian Principle

 

Read on for excerpts from Helena Hunting’s romantic comedy
The Librarian Principle
and Debra Anastasia’s
Fire In The Hole
!

 

THE LIBRARIAN PRINCIPLE

 

1

Signs & Signals

 

Annaliese Harper approached the threshold of the ornate library, a live wire of anxiety and anticipation. In mental preparation, she’d donned her mask of fake composure and steeled herself against the inevitable onslaught of awkward introductions. Still, nervous tension twisted her gut as she checked out the staff of Fullerton Academy of Higher Learning from the safety of the hall.

Before she could make her move, Liese’s phone chimed in her purse, the volume loud enough to startle her. She whirled from where her colleagues were gathered, muttering a cleaned-up curse. The cavernous hallway had amazing acoustics, judging by the impressive echo of her heels on the marble floor. She glanced over her shoulder, but no one seemed to have noticed the noise.

She rooted around in her purse and located the device; palming the phone, she muted the volume before it could chime again. Too wound up to head back toward the library straight away, she keyed in her password and clicked on the message. An image appeared on the tiny screen.

“Oh my God,” Liese snorted. She slapped her palm over her mouth to stop from laughing aloud as she gawked at the photoshopped image. In a perverse gesture of camaraderie, her best friend had sent an
interesting
picture of Liese’s new boss, the incredibly attractive principal at FAHL, Ryder Whitehall. The face, at least, was his, but based on the substantial endowment hanging a little to the left, the body belonged to a porn star. She couldn’t wait to get home to view the full-screen version in her email.

“Ms. Harper?” The voice came from behind her.

She jumped and fumbled with her phone. In a protective, graceless move, she clutched it to her chest for a moment before frantically punching the off button. She shoved it back in her purse and turned to find the principal in question standing mere feet away.

Her eyes were level with his chest, and his brilliant red tie seemed to function as an arrow, pointing down to where she shouldn’t be looking. Despite herself, Liese took a moment to appreciate the fit of his suit and the way it hugged the long, muscular lines of his body. His shirt had to be tailored with the way it pulled across his chest, highlighting broad shoulders that tapered into a narrow waist. She imagined he must be cut under all those clothes, a thought she knew she shouldn’t ruminate on overly much.

She looked up; at five-foot-seven Liese wasn’t particularly short, but her principal had a good six inches on her, forcing her to tilt her head back to make eye contact. She made a concerted effort to keep her eyes on his face, lest her gaze wander lower, her mind still stuck on the pornographic image she’d been ogling.

Not that looking at his face was a problem. His eyes were a vibrant, rather mesmerizing shade of aquamarine, sucking her in. His short, dark hair was neatly styled, and Liese had the inexcusable desire to run her fingers through and mess it up. The straight line of his nose contrasted sharply with the soft, full curve of his lips.

“Mr. Whitehall, hi, hello.” Liese cringed internally at the high, edgy tenor of her voice.

Mr. Whitehall leaned in, close enough that she could feel the apocalyptic heat he emitted. “It’s just Ryder unless there are students present, Ms. Harper.” His amused smile should have helped relax her, but it flustered her more. As did his proximity.

“Right, of course, Ryder.”

“Nervous?”

“Unbearably.”

He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You have nothing to fear. You’ll fit in perfectly here.” He inclined his head in the direction of the library. “If you find it helpful, we can discuss any additional questions after orientation.”

“That sounds great.” Liese gave him a genuine smile as he guided her down the hall and through the door, his fingertips brushing the back of her arm. The unexpected contact sent a shiver down her spine. He motioned to the right, where a table had been set up. Liese signed the attendance sheet while Ryder bent next to her and located her orientation package.

Unfamiliar colleagues milled about, many finding a place to sit. Worried about the seating arrangements and not knowing anyone, Liese scanned the room for empty chairs while also scoping out her coworkers. Her unease must have been obvious because Ryder took pity on her and introduced her to several staff members. She tried to pay attention to her colleagues’ names and disciplines rather than fixate on the number of times Ryder touched her arm. She was almost relieved when Harvey Little, the assistant principal, motioned him to the front of the room. Ryder flashed Liese an encouraging smile and joined his second-in-command.

Dry mouthed, she grabbed a refreshment and set her things down at an empty table. She didn’t like the way Ryder’s touch affected her ability to think straight. The raw attraction that accompanied such benign contact with him caused alarm bells to ring in her head. Having a good-looking boss was one thing; crushing on him was entirely another.

Liese pretended to be interested in her orientation packet to pass the time. She hated the initial discomfort that accompanied meeting new people. Her goal wasn’t just making friends; she needed to suss out her colleagues. High school teachers, like high school students, could be cliquey. The last thing she wanted was to take up residence beside the chatty teacher who would talk through the entire meeting and made her look bad.

“Hey, mind if I sit here?”

Liese looked up to find a tall, lean, well-dressed man with sandy blond hair and brown eyes smiling down at her. He looked safe. “Sure. Go ahead.” She returned the grin and motioned to the empty seats.

“You must be our new librarian.” He dropped into the chair opposite her and leaned back, stretching his legs out.

“Um, yeah, that’s me. How’d you know?” She held out her hand. “I’m Liese Harper.”

“Blake Stone, lone drama teacher.” He leaned forward and shook her hand before reclining in his chair once again. “There were only two new hires this year. The other guy teaches science, and I met him when I was grabbing a coffee,” he said.

“Oh right. Well, it’s nice to know I’m not the only new person here.” She glanced around the room. No one else looked as out of place as she felt at that particular moment. Nonetheless, Liese steered the conversation, asking questions about Blake’s program and what it took to run a full production as the sole drama teacher. “It must be a huge time commitment for you,” she prompted.

“Sure, but I love doing it, and so do the students, so it’s worth it. If you want to help out with this year’s play, let me know. No pressure, though.” He winked and looked over her shoulder, waving enthusiastically.

Liese turned to see a tall slip of a woman slide into the seat beside her. Her short blond hair was cut into a straight-edged bob, and thick-framed, funky glasses perched on her nose. “Don’t tell me he’s already trying to recruit you to help him with one of his plays. Don’t do it. Blake is a perfectionist pain in the ass. You’d think he was running Broadway or something with his diva attitude.” Authenticity was absent in her warning. She gave Liese a warm smile. “I’m Emily Captain. I teach art and art history.”

“Liese Harper, the new librarian.” She took Emily’s outstretched hand.

“Don’t listen to anything this one says.” Blake brushed off Emily’s comment. She retaliated by flicking a paperclip at him. Theirs seemed to be a long-standing friendship.

Conversation turned to summer holidays and start-up plans for the fall, with more teachers joining the table as it drew closer to nine o’clock.

Emily flipped through her package and turned it around to Blake. “Have you seen this? They haven’t tried to outlaw it, but they sure are making it a big deal.”

Highlighted by bright yellow paper was a photocopied article on workplace harassment issues, including a bolded section on inter-collegial dating.

Blake scoffed. “I bet this is because of that principal in Berks County.”

“What principal?” Liese asked.

“The one who got caught having an affair with a teacher,” Emily explained.

“I’m pretty sure it wasn’t an affair. Neither one of them was married, from what I read, so that makes it a relationship.” Blake noted as he flipped through the pages of the orientation package.

He appeared uninterested in the topic, and Liese looked surreptitiously at Ryder. Her thoughts turned to the slew of images her best friend had been sending since Liese had accepted the position at FAHL. She’d gone on endlessly about Ryder’s attributes, both physical and intellectual, and in return, Marissa had indulged her with ridiculously porno-riffic pictures. Liese hadn’t thought it much of an issue until now. However, keeping a folder of doctored images featuring her principal might not be the most ethical practice.

If you enjoyed PUCKED, you should read on to experience the hilarity of:

 

FIRE IN THE HOLE

BY DEBRA ANASTASIA

 

Dove stood in her hallway for longer than a reasonable person should. All she could picture was Duke downstairs, taking off his crazy outfit. Shit, he’d probably poke his eye out getting that guyliner off right now.

She padded down the stairs and pushed open his door, which was slightly ajar. The light from the bathroom spilled into the living room, and she tiptoed in, and sure enough, he was standing in front of his mirror, dabbing at his left eye over and over and cursing.

She opened the door the rest of the way and waited a second until he saw her. He didn’t say anything. Standing there in unbuttoned jeans, a tight, sleeveless tank, and wild hair, he looked like he belonged on the cover of a dirty book. A filthy dirty book.

Dove grabbed a handful of toilet paper from the roll and scootched in front of him to moisten it lightly with water from the tap. She went to hop up on his sink, and he put his hands on her hips to help her.

“I figured you’d be down here turning your eyeball into a pile of mush.” She bit her bottom lip and ran the paper lightly under his eye, eliminating the smudge that wearing it had caused.

The normally chatty Duke was quiet, but his breath was coming faster and faster.

She moved to his right eye and did the same. The liner was still there, but just a hint now. She tossed the paper in the trash and ran her hand through his hair.

“What kind of product did she put in here? Her orgy-proof stuff is scary.” His hair was stiff but still soft somehow, and she ran her fingers through it a few times. He set his hands on either side of her, and his knuckles went white as if having her touch him caused him pain or made him want to hit something.

She looked from his hands to his eyes, and the lust there was so apparent it was scary in the most sensual way.

“He’s gone. Johnson left.” She ran her hands down his ridiculous biceps. “It’s us. Here.”

He put his hands on her ass and pulled her hard against him. “Damn it, Dove.” His voice was gravelly. “I want to tell you to leave. To go—because you’re too indecisive and it hurts me, but the truth is I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me.”

She ran her hands down his chest, making sure to graze his nipples. He made an almost imperceptible growl. “That’s not fair.”

Duke put his forehead against hers.

“For you. You deserve more. What about Flower?” She touched her nose to his.

“Did you come downstairs and put your legs around me to talk about other people?” And that anger was there again, just resting beneath the passion he was barely keeping a lid on.

She locked her feet behind his back. She hadn’t even done it consciously. “No. I came down here because I needed to see you.”

Was this the same guy who had gay porn embedded on his TV? Was this the guy who wore chicken tighty-whities like a uniform?

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