Apple of My Eye Read Online Allie Marie

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 120058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)

Juliet Baldwin.
Type-A Teacher.
Sam Ford.
Ruler of Classroom Chaos.

I, Juliet Baldwin, have my hands firmly on the wheel of life at ten-and-two, steering in the opposite direction of heartache. Teaching comes first, and nothing can stand in the way of bettering my students and achieving my professional goals.
Except, of course, technology.
When a grade level shift moves Sam Ford—everyone’s favorite rambunctious teacher, baseball coach, and technology wizard—to my seventh grade team, we butt heads more than we grade papers. But I need someone to help put together a video for my prestigious grant application—a project that I have invested a lot of blood, sweat, and tears into over the past several years. And while I can barely work my phone’s selfie camera, Sam just so happens to be the tech guru of the building.
Suddenly, as I let him take over the video project for my grant, my reins are in Sam’s hands—someone I don’t trust, and someone who could very well break my heart. But as the layers slowly peel back, revealing much more than a charming smirk beneath his sexy beard, I start to wonder if placing my heart in someone else’s hands will be good for me, or if it will just further upset the apple cart.




“She’s going to kill you, Mr. Ford.”

I chuckle silently, pressing my index finger to my lips to silence the twenty-three seventh-graders who have followed me down the hallway to the closed door before us. My lips quirk beneath my fingertip.

“That’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

I wink at Gavin, the student who is standing right behind me carrying the goods—one of maybe three students in this class I trust enough to carry the box of rubber frogs, typically meant to model dissection.

Today, they’ll be put to a different purpose.

Juliet Baldwin’s classroom is silent enough that if a lock of her curly blonde hair fell to the carpeted floor, it would echo. Her students have their noses buried into the deep creases of a book, lined in desks that are organized in neat rows. It’s almost too perfect. Too orderly. Too much of an opportunity.

But that’s all part of my lesson.

Teaching a group of squirrely teens about the hierarchy in an ecosystem by reading out of a textbook?


Showing them exactly how those roles play out in nature, and giving them a good memory to pull from when we review?

And the look on their English teacher’s face when we come bombarding into her neat and orderly classroom wielding rubber frogs?


The metal of the door handle is cool in my palm. As I tilt it downward slowly, I peek over my shoulder. I bring the index finger of my free hand to my lips, indicating that my students remain silent. Like dutiful soldiers, they nod, a few of them miming the zip of their lips. With all voices silenced, I raise that same hand in the air and mouth my countdown from three, two, one…


Gavin and Ben lead the charge, followed by the rest of my class. They spill into Juliet’s classroom like milk from a toppled cup, rubber frogs held high above their heads as mass chaos erupts. I stand back, my shoulder propped up against her door frame with my arms crossed, smiling smugly.

The true icing on the cake happens when Ben runs straight up to Juliet, who is frozen in absolute shock, and places his frog on top of her head with a maniacal smile before running away, flailing his arms like a wacky waving inflatable tube man.

God, I love my job sometimes.

I’m equally invested in watching my own class run around as I am watching the faces of some of my other students who are currently in English. Some are annoyed, and attempt to continue reading, while others stare dumbfounded at my zooming scientists.

A few students from Juliet’s class attempt to join in on my class’s fun, and I do zero to step in and stop them. As soon as her own students are part of the anarchy, Juliet finally puts her foot down.


I can’t help it. I almost laugh. But I do manage to swallow it down before she notices.

The classroom is quiet enough that you can hear the mice’s commentary. Three of my students are frozen with dummy frogs above their head, one is standing on top of another student’s desk, and two are—for reasons I am not going to investigate—laying on the bookshelves.

Before Juliet can utter another peep, I step fully into the room, stroking the close cropped hair on my jaw.

“What observations can we make about this ecosystem, class?” I ask, arms folded over my chest as I don my “teacher voice.”

Several of my student’s hands pop into the air. The squirrely teens are bopping on their toes to answer. I love how eager they get.