Liam’s Gold

LIAM’S GOLD
by Jody Wallace
CURRENTLY OOP
First published by Samhain Publishing, November 2008
Length: Novella (30K)
Rating: R
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He’s the leprechaun, but she’s the one who can make his dreams come true.

Blurb: Sal and Liam have lived next door to each other for years. They’re friends–just not that kind of friends. Sal would like to be more than friends, but she’s come to accept she’s not Liam’s type.

What Sal doesn’t know is Liam is a leprechaun whose sojourn in humanspace is almost at an end. He’s maintained his disguise partly through his reckless proximity to Sal and her grandmother, humans who have the gene to recognize leprechauns for what they are and force them to expend their hoard of magic granting wishes. Liam’s never had to grant a wish and he’s not about to start now, but he’s got a wish of his own:  to taste the delights of one Miss Salvia Rose Winter before he shakes the dust of humanspace off his feet forever.

What Liam himself doesn’t know is that his nemesis from the Realm is bearing down on him and would do anything to prevent Liam from returning to their homeland.  Including murder the woman he’s only just realized he loves.

Warning: This book contains bad leprechaun jokes, worse leprechaun behavior, great leprechaun sex, and absolutely no little bearded men in green coats.


***** An excerpt from LIAM’S GOLD *****

First Scene

The doorbell buzzed while Liam was in the  shower. It was barely audible over the rush of water, even to his sensitive  ears. He slid the bar of Irish Spring, his favorite soap, back onto the wire  rack, rinsed quickly and cranked off the faucet.

The doorbell buzzed again.

“Hang on, hang on,” he muttered. It was probably  Sal here to fix the computer he’d fried with another virus. She had terrible  timing, but if she cooled her heels on the doorstep too long, she’d get pissed  and he’d have to pay somebody to repair the demon box.

His cash flow was diverted to other things right  now—more important things.

He wrapped himself in a concealing robe and  padded, dripping, to the front door. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of his body.  He just didn’t want Sal to notice his skin was as flaky as phyllo dough.

He checked the peephole. Sure enough, his  next-door neighbor, Ms. Salvia Rose Winter, leaned against the porch column with  a scowl on her pretty face and her computer repair kit balanced on her hip. As  always, he felt himself lighten at the sight of her, at the funny way her mouth  bowed when she frowned. Grabbing a pair of sunglasses, he slipped them on and  opened the door with a flourish.

“Hey there, Sal my gal.” Liam flashed his most  charming smile, the better to keep Sal’s attention on his face. He needed about  a gallon of moisturizer, stat. “Long time, no see.”

Sal pushed up the brim of her cap. Her sky-blue  eyes narrowed. “You’re not speaking to me, remember?”

“And here I thought you were the one mad at me.”  He’d been avoiding her, but the reason she assumed was not the reason why.  “Guess I was wrong. Well, here you are now. Bygones?”

She dug in her repair kit and handed him a  Tupperware box. “Gram sent cookies. What’s up with the shades, Cory Hart?”

“Hangover,” he lied. He didn’t have his contacts  in, so his shamrock-shaped irises would disclose to any human he wasn’t  altogether normal.

“Are you alone? You’d better be alone.” She eyed  his plaid robe and wet hair with a suspicious glare.

“Of course I’m alone.” He’d been “alone” more  than she realized of late. He was too close to completion to risk sex. Too close  to completion to invite a Finder spawn into his house, but that was a risk he  was willing to take since it was Sal.

His gal Sal.

She gave a decisive nod. Her blonde ponytail,  shoved through the back of her cap, bounced. “I can give you three hours. But  don’t bitch me out about firewalls and filtering software this time. Everyone  uses firewalls.”

He motioned her in and shut the door. “I  couldn’t surf my favorite sites.”

“Porn sites.” Sal tightened her lips, but to him  she still looked kissable.

“A guy’s gotta have hobbies.”

© 2008 Jody Wallace

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