Hurtz So Good

By Lita Locke

Crime noir novelist Sam Walker never met a female he didn't like ... until her!

Academic librarian Evangeline Dare was in strict control of her library ... until him!

Sam doesn't have the patience to deal with an uptight librarian.  Who cares if he has overdue books?  He sure doesn't!

Evangeline doesn't have the time to deal with a temperamental author.  She's got a library to fix, after all.

But in order to save a community icon, they must put aside their differences, join forces and work as a team.

Pity then that the Pink Ribbon Culprit, a stray black cat, a Kissing Booth and a charity auction might just be their undoing!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lita Locke
• Release date: Jun 6, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393255680

Book preview

HURTZ

SO

GOOD

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~  Lita  Locke  ~

HURTZ  SO  GOOD

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Crime noir novelist Sam Walker never met a female he didn’t like ... until her!

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Academic librarian Evangeline Dare was in strict control of her library ... until him!

––––––––

Sam doesn’t have the patience to deal with an uptight librarian.  Who cares if he has overdue books?  He sure doesn’t!

––––––––

Evangeline doesn’t have the time to deal with a temperamental author.  She’s got a library to fix, after all.

––––––––

But in order to save a community icon, they must put aside their differences, join forces and work as a team.

––––––––

Pity then that the Pink Ribbon Culprit, a stray black cat, a Kissing Booth and a charity auction might just be their undoing!

Hurtz So Good

Copyright © Lita Locke 2019

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Cover design by Angela Haddon Design

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Cover credit:

Photograph of Male Model © Viorel Sima via Adobe Stock

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All rights reserved.

This e-book is under a limited electronic license.

Not to be resold, relicensed, reproduced, redistributed or transferred.

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This is a work of fiction.  All characters, names, businesses, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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Model image used for illustrative purposes only.

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Contains mature / romantic themes, humor and language.

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~  www.litalocke.com  ~

AUTHOR  NOTE:

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Marble Falls, MN is a product of my own imagination.

If you’re looking to place it on a Minnesota State map, it’s midway between Duluth and Two Harbors, nestled on the shores of Lake Superior.

CONTENTS

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- Chapter 1 -

- Chapter 2 -

- Chapter 3 -

- Chapter 4 -

- Chapter 5 -

- Chapter 6 -

- Chapter 7 -

- Chapter 8 -

- Chapter 9 -

- Chapter 10 -

- Chapter 11 -

- Chapter 12 -

- Chapter 13 -

- Chapter 14 -

- Chapter 15 -

- Chapter 16 -

- Chapter 17 -

- Chapter 18 -

- Chapter 19 -

Book  List

- Chapter 1 -

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Today was the day!

He was gonna do it, for sure.

Sam did a quick self-check in the large windows that graced the library building, the clean glass reflecting back an image of a terribly handsome man.

If he did say so himself!

Dark hair.

Dark eyes.

Dark soul.

Okay, so he probably should have taken the time to shave before he’d decided to do the deed today.

And his hair was a touch too long as he hadn’t had a haircut in quite some time.  And his eyes were tempered with a wicked twinkle and the beginnings of crow’s-feet at their corners.

And his soul wasn’t really that dark—it was just the topics he covered, the career he’d chosen and the genres he wrote in that were considered gothic.  Or noir.

But hell, Samuel Theodore Walker was one heck of a good-looking man.

If he did say so himself!

I mean, plenty of other women said it too as they swooned at his feet when he took to the stage at author conventions or flirted with him when he signed his books, therefore it must be true.

And sure, a few of those lucky women who’d found themselves dating him had called him rather choice names as well, once they’d found out he wasn’t as fantastic as the tall tales and fantasy publicity had made him out to be.

But that was all in the past.  And today was a brand new day.

He was so gonna do it.  For sure!

The doors to the library slid open on a whisper and Sam sauntered inside, hands in jean pockets, his trademark insouciant grin settling on his face.

Glancing around the public space, his eyes automatically took note of the patrons, the events taking place before him, his mystery author instinct kicking in, laying out the crime scene setting in an instant.

A young mother consoling a fussy baby in the kiddie area.  A couple of old grannies sitting in chairs and knitting in the corner, gossiping and drinking tea—or something stronger—from a shared flask.  A business man in tie and suit reading all the free daily newspapers—cheapskate, obviously!  A few more patrons browsing the non-fiction area, all non-descript, background characters doing their thing.

Oh, and a pair of interested eyes giving him the once-over from the romance section; the eyes attached to a pretty face and a cute caboose.

Nice!

From the sci-fi section, a younger man shot him a glare then hot-footed his way to the female, slinging his arm around her shoulder in a possessive manner, the message crystal clear.

Okay, not so nice!

Didn’t matter though, as Sam already had a hot date lined up.

Not that he’d asked her yet.

Or that she’d said yes!

But whatever, all that was moot as he was about to do so right now.

Strolling to the middle of the library, the place where the reference desk was, the place where she was, Sam turned on the charm, got his gameplay underway and...

Where’s Allie? he blurted out, all his best laid plans evaporating into thin air.

The stranger—who wasn’t his honey-haired, sweet little reference librarian nor the woman who was his potential future bed sport—turned eyes on him.

Green eyes.

Like exquisite emerald.

A green-eyed woman with brown hair.

Shot with red that flashed under the fluorescent library lights.

She’s not here, the new woman told him.

What? he said, oddly caught off guard by those amazing eyes and fascinating hair colors that teased his writer’s imagination now sprung to life.

Allie.  She’s not here!

His mind caught back up to speed, even as his body continued reacting to the woman’s slightly husky voice.

Hell!

That voice!  So damned sexy.  What he wouldn’t give to hear her whisper naughty sweet nothings in his ear.

But the mystery woman was now giving him a look.

Like he was a bug beneath her shoe.

Or he had a few screws loose.  Or something!

Where’s Allie? he asked again.

The woman firmed her ruby-painted lips, a frown creasing her forehead.

She’s on maternity leave, she told him.

What?  How did that happen? he demanded, his tone brusque.

Seriously?

Sam was floored.  He hadn’t even known his little reference librarian was married, let alone pregnant!  And here he was all ready to ask her out.  Finally!

Well.  When a mommy and a daddy love each other very much, they—

Ha ha, Sam cut her off, his index finger raised in annoyance.

Great!  He was dealing with a comedienne!

Oh, I’m sorry, she said, not sounding sorry in the slightest.  I thought you wanted to learn about the birds and the bees.  If so, I can direct you to the correct Dewey Number in the stacks.

The woman shot him a smug smile, as if to say ‘take that’.

And that kind of behavior got his goat.

Sam gave attitude, he didn’t take it!

Honey, I wrote the book on the birds and bees, he shot back, so I don’t need any advice.

The woman gave him another look—absolutely unimpressed by his braggadocio and bold claim—and this time her expression said he might not need advice, but he probably did require therapy, of some kind.

Plus, for your information, I wasn’t talking about sex.  I was talking about Allie.

The woman sighed and flipped her red-brown hair over her shoulder.  She left last week.  I’m replacing her while she’s on maternity leave.

Who are you?

The annoying female pointed to her name badge, her painted nail clicking on the plastic pinned to her chest and Sam leaned in closer to read it.  Only he wasn’t just reading it, he was checking out her rather delightful—

Ahem, she cleared her throat, when she saw where his gaze was actually directed.

Keeping his grin under wraps, Sam shifted away, a shrug lifting his shoulders.

Forgot my reading glasses, he lied smoothly, not needing glasses in the slightest to read.

Her name was Evangeline.

It was exotic.

Sort of like her.  If he cared to admit it.  Which he didn’t!

Who are you? she responded in kind.

Samuel Walker, he replied, puffing out his chest and flashing her his best author publicity smile.  You may have heard of me.

Nope!

S.T. Walker?

Evangeline’s eyes widened slightly, then her scowl returned.  Oh.  Right.  You’re him then, are you?

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

You’re him!

You bet your sweet bippy I am, honey, he said.  You sound ... disappointed.

Well, I was expecting ...

She trailed off.

What? he ground out.

What had she been expecting?

For S.T. Walker, crime noir novelist extraordinaire, to be some kind of weedy little man?  With a squint.  And glasses.  And a bald spot.  And unfashionable clothes?  That’s what she’d been expecting?

I don’t know, she sighed.  Just not this.

She waved her hand in Sam’s general direction.

What’s wrong with this? he demanded.

Okay, sure, he desperately needed to shave and get a haircut and perhaps his clothes were a little more wrinkled than he would have liked, but hey, he’d just been on a writing binge for a couple of days straight, surviving only on coffee and takeout food, Chinese mostly, and perhaps he hadn’t seen the sun for a few weeks so he was looking slightly pale about the gills ... but all of that could be fixed.

And now that his writing binge was over, he was in the research phase, hence his little trip to the library to get the answers to his problems, only now he had more problems than he could ever imagine, what with this female giving him attitude and all.

And his delightful golden-haired Allie gone, his muse for his novels, his Emma to his Harry, gone away to have a baby, replaced by this ... this ... harridan?

Ugh!

Is there something I can actually help you with? the interloper asked him, her red painted nails now tapping out a staccato of impatience on the work desk, or do you just plan on standing there for the rest of your life?  I do have things to be getting on with, you know.

He was sure her tone was one of censure.

And certainly not something he expected to hear from a public reference librarian.

Do you talk to all your patrons this way? Sam growled.

It was highly unprofessional, to say the least.

Everyone knew librarians were supposed to be sweet and kind and nice and other synonyms for helpful and willing.  She, well, she was none of those things.  Not so far.  And not to him!

Evangeline stared him down from her sitting position at the reference desk—a feat that was all the more impressive given he was the one towering over her right now and all—with one well-shaped eyebrow raised, the only response it seemed he’d be getting.

Fine, Sam ground out, trying to keep his temper under wraps and his tone library-appropriate.  I’m here to pick up my reference books.  I emailed through a list last week.

As he had always done.

Emailed through questions.  And reference books he needed.  Plus any of those little research morsels that librarians liked to ferret out, their natural curiosity his salvation to those problems that always arose when he wrote his complicated plots and parts.

Honey-haired Allie had delighted in finding the answers he’d needed.

Always obliging Allie had always been willing to help.

And the suddenly departed Allie was secretly his muse, even though he’d never told her that.  He’d modelled his fictional detective’s sweet secretary on her, after all.

Evangeline grabbed a sealed envelope off the desk and slid it over to him.

She was practically in labor, you know, but said she couldn’t leave until she’d helped you one last time.

Now Evangeline’s voice really did contain censure.  He was certainly not imagining it.  And Sam maybe might have felt a twinge of guilt, expecting a heavily pregnant woman to rush about doing his bidding.

I mean, if he’d known, he’d never have bothered her.

But he hadn’t known.  He hadn’t paid attention.

Thanks, he grumbled, feeling like an utter heel.  Don’t suppose she’s had the baby yet?  Don’t suppose you know which hospital?

The new Ref Desk librarian opened her mouth, no doubt ready to give him a serve, but Sam cut her off with a warning finger, his insouciant grin back on his face.

And before you tear me a new one, he told her, "I only want to send the woman flowers.  I’m not asking her to do more work for me, you know.  I’m not that insensitive!"

Evangeline looked like she might disagree with that sentiment, but wisely kept her comments to herself.  She turned to the computer screen and keyed in something, all professionalism returning.

Sort of!  For she slapped down the books he’d asked for on the desk between them, her eyes drifting back to the screen as her nails continued to tap away at the keyboard.

Thanks, he said, his hand ready to grab the tomes.

The computer beeped.

Wait!

Huh?  For what? Sam asked, his hand still in the process of reaching for the reference material he needed.

That’ll be twenty dollars, the woman told him.

Err, what? Sam barked, floored again by this new angle.  "You’re charging for advice now?  You’re renting out library books all of a sudden?"

What the hell?

Oh, please!  Nothing like that.  You have overdue library books, she informed him.

Yeah, I know, Sam said, shrugging.  So what?

You have overdue library books, Mister Walker, Evangeline said, repeating what she’d just said before, only adding Mister this time, in a tone that was deliberately not sweet.

Or even polite.

Sam grinned at her with what he knew was his most charming smile.

All the other librarians have been willing to overlook my overdues, Evangeline.  They know I like to keep the books until I have finished writing my current novel.  I always return them afterward.

And with that, he also patted her hand resting on the desk.  For good measure.

Evangeline firmed those ruby lips even more, pursing them into a mutinous moue.  Her green eyes flashed fire and for a second, Sam thought he might be in a little bit more trouble than he had bargained for.

Only for a second, mind, because Sam knew that his fabulous charm would work wonders on this prickly woman soon.  I mean, it did for all the other ladies he’d ever pissed off, and this one was no different to any of them!

But apparently she was going to argue, reaching out for his books in order to grab them back.

A silent tug of war ensued, the books the prize, as both man and woman tried to win them off their foe, and the ‘Battle for the Books’ would have been comical at any other time.  He would have laughed it off as a funny event.

But Samuel Theodore Walker wasn’t laughing now!

My predecessor may have tolerated your lax behavior, but I won’t.  Either return the books on time or be prepared to face the consequences.  Why should I bend the rules for you?

Sam glared at her, astounded by the female’s appalling attitude.  He’d just said he always returned the books.  Eventually.  What was the big deal?

I’m sure there are other patrons who want to borrow— and here she looked at the computer screen again, noting his particular, and peculiar, reading list, "—1001 Horribly Historical Murders?  I don’t even know why we’d have that in this library, but I’m pretty sure there’s someone else in the queue to borrow it!"

Evangeline shot him a look that was filled with daggers and poison and ropes and lead piping, and all that good stuff that Sam dealt with daily in his crime noir novels, but having that kind of look turned on him was disconcerting, to say the least.

The idea flashed through his mind that perhaps it was this Evangeline woman who was most interested in borrowing that exact same book title after he was done with it, but he shoved that thought ruthlessly aside.

You have that book because I requested it, he informed