Blog Tour ~ THE PRINCIPAL’S UNDERWEAR IS MISSING by Holly Kowitt ~ Excerpt + Giveaway

Blog Tour ~ THE PRINCIPAL’S UNDERWEAR IS MISSING by Holly Kowitt ~ Excerpt + Giveaway

Hi everyone!

30 minutes late, but well my internet just came back from the dead.

Today I got the blog tour for The Principal’s Underwear is Missing stopping at my blog! Yay! It just looks so delightfully funny, I had to participate. And I am glad my internet is back so I can still post this one!

Like with the other Blog Tour, I have the standard information, but also a really fun excerpt, and a giveaway (Sorry guys, US only).

When you’re a sixth-grade nobody, the last person you wan to accidentally zonk with a volleyball is Sloan “Selfie” St. Clair–the eighth-grade glamour queen of the school. But that’s what happens to Becca Birnbaum, and it only gets worse when she tries to do Selfie a favor. She grabs the wrong shopping bag from the principal’s office — one containing a very personal item. and even that might not be so bad, if only Selfie didn’t immediately lose it.

If they don’t get it back ASAP, they’re toast. They try not to panic–until they hear that the Biggest Prank Ever is about to happen. Can the school’s oddest couple stop the disaster of a lifetime?


Buy this book here: Amazon |||| B&N |||| iBooks

About the author:

Holly Kowitt has written more than fifty books for younger readers, including the Loser List series. She lives in New York City, where she enjoys cycling, flea markets, and West Coast swing dancing.

Find her here:     

Excerpt time! This one just was my favourite out of the two I could pick. I hope you all enjoy it as well!

After Ajax and his friends bolted, I turned to Selfie, impressed. “Whoa!” I said. “That was brilliant. I didn’t even know there was a Hottie List!”

Selfie gave me an oh-you’re-so-naïve smile while she applied lipstick. “There’s not,” she said. “You’re going to make one.”

“Me?” I felt my stomach clench.

“Yeah.” She reached into her massive purse and handed me a pen topped by a fluffy hot-pink feather. It wasn’t a pen for writing a book report or a paper on Thomas Jefferson. It was a pen you used to write an entry in a slam book or a fan letter to a boy band.

“Okay.” I took it uneasily. Right now we had bigger things to worry about. Heading toward us was Selfie’s posse—D’Nise, Chaz, Roxxi, Vivienne, Margaux. Last night, we’d given them the third degree about the missing—ahem—item. Now they were charging toward us like a noisy army.

“You ever find that monster bra?”

“What a freak show.”


“SHHHHHHHH!” I was frantic. “Voices down—please! This is SUPER, mega-top secret—”

They got even louder.

“We must . . . we must . . . we must increase our BUST.” Chaz swung back his elbows, doing pretend exercises, and everyone laughed.

I looked at Selfie helplessly, but she just shrugged, as if to say, What can you do? Asking this group to shut up was like asking fish not to swim. Even though we’d sworn and double-sworn the Fashion Clubbers to secrecy about the bra, I should have known they’d be buzzing about it the second they hit the halls.

How long before the rest of the school caught on?

“We are so dead,” I whispered to Selfie, feeling my head throb. “Look at all these people. . . .” I spread my arms to the larger sea of students flooding the halls. “Any one of them could’ve overheard the guys blabbing about it!”

“Not him.” Selfie pointed to a lone kid slicing through the crowded hall, eyes on his gaming device, ears plugged into headphones. I recognized Felix Needleman, a nerdy sixth grader in a thick sweater and too-short corduroys. He carried a superhero tote bag, probably a giveaway from Comic-Con. Boy was he out of it.

“If he didn’t, he’s the only one.” I snort-laughed. Okay, so maybe one oddball, unibrowed, gaming freak didn’t mix with the gossip crowd. That still left everyone else.

WHOMP! Somebody grabbed Selfie and me and pushed us into a doorway, kidnapper-style. We both yelped. When we opened our eyes, Ajax stood in front of us, panting.

“Mission accomplished.” He wiped sweat off his forehead.

“Is that how you want to say hi?” I asked, annoyed.

“Do you want info or not?” he asked.

“Yeah.” I steeled myself.

“At twelve thirty,” he said, “the principal’s bra’s going up the flagpole.”

a Rafflecopter giveaway

This Blog Tour was organized by:
Rockstar Book Tours

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