Irish Magic Sneak Peek.

Irish Magic

By Susan B. James

Madison Square Park. New York City

Hanford House wants its advance back.

Kate’s author mind edited her agent’s six-word text down to two. Panic now.

Blowing the last of her book advance on a ticket to Ireland to do research might be her worst idea to date. If you didn’t count getting engaged to Eric and using him as a model for her hero. Or quitting her day job before turning in the revisions on her second book. Did bad luck come in threes?

From her seat on the grass, she focused on the barely visible triangular point of the Flatiron Building. She was supposed to leave for Ireland next week. She was pretty sure her trip insurance wouldn’t accept needing a new job as a reason for a refund. The brownie she’d bought to celebrate her last day as a bookkeeper tasted like ashes. What was she going to do now?

Batten Barton and Dunston had already replaced her. Her savings would take her through the next two months, but she’d been counting on the second part of the book advance to tide her over till she finished her next book. And now they wanted the first part back?

She fisted a handful of grass for comfort, praying for an answer to stop this disaster. None came.

Advance spent, Kate texted back. Stall them.

You broke contract. Revisions due last month.

Almost done. Just one thing to fix.

One major thing. The ghost of her ex-fiancé tainted her hero’s every word. Physically Eric had been the perfect inspiration for dashing, mysterious Lord Rotherham, but . . . Kate’s throat constricted. She was no Jane Austen, turning the real-life man who broke her heart into a hero that haunted readers’ dreams. Her Lord R was a complete ass.

Why did she have to be the kind of writer who needed a real person to hang her fictional character on? Her thoughts raced till they crashed into the wall blocking her creative mind.

Traveling to Ireland had seemed reasonable when she bought the ticket. She’d kill two birds with one trip. Find a new model for Lord Rotherham and research her next book, Perfect Match, on the Bus Eireann tour she’d spent the last month planning. The plot had already bloomed in her head. All she needed was the bus tour to nail down the details.

Kate twiddled broken blades of grass between her thumb and forefinger. One fell free. No. Not grass. It was a four-leaf clover. Her first ever. In the middle of New York City?

Kate picked it up carefully. True love might be a dead issue, but there was still the hope of magic. She closed her eyes and made a wish. “Please. Send me the perfect hero.”

* * *

Bradley Flynn, CEO of Abbey Public Relations propped his feet on the windowsill of his fortieth-floor office, feeling lord of all he surveyed. He loved New York. In seven years, he’d achieved more than he thought possible. The only thing he needed now was . . .

The intercom buzzed. “Brad, a Mr. McPhee is on line two. He says he has a contract with you.”

Brad’s size-eight Ferragamo’s hit the floor with a bang. He swiveled his chair to face the desk. Icicles clog-danced on his spine. “Tell him I’m out.”

The Wearing of the Green blared from his cell phone. McPhee’s signature ring with McPhee’s own lyrics meant to entice errant half-Leprechauns back to the auld sod. Oh, there is a little island and our people love it well. A place by Nature gifted with a most endearing spell— Brad switched off the phone.

The picture on his monitor pixilated; re-forming into the face he least wanted to see. Damn the Leprechaun Guild and especially the Guild Master.

McPhee smirked at him. “You’re up.”

“I can’t be. It hasn’t been—”

“The woman used a clover.”

The monitor view reformed again, revealing a woman with closed eyes speaking into her cupped hands. Her mass of auburn hair was wound into a granny bun. She might have a nice figure. Impossible to tell because of the oversized NYU hoodie she had on over . . . a business suit? Seriously?

“She wants a real hero.”

“I suppose I could manage that.” At least, he could teach her how to dress.

“You’re not what she has in mind. Find her a hero.” McPhee’s smirk got nastier. “And remember. No magic.”

“No magic? Why?”

“Because you’re dealing with a heart wish. You can’t use magic to make someone fall in love. Find another way. And remember, if you don’t succeed, you’re mine for the next seven years.” The screen went dark.

Brad glared at the two pages his printer spat out. Kate Carnahan. His wish client. Name, address, and pertinent history. He scanned them rapidly. Hah. She was going to Ireland next week. Score one for The McPhee.

Well, forcing him back to Ireland wasn’t going to work. He’d find a way to accompany her, see to her wish and be back in New York in a fortnight. But how in the name of Finn was he supposed to provide her with a hero without magic?

Perhaps a bit of help? Asking a favor didn’t count as magic. He scrolled through his contact list till he found the name he wanted and punched in a call. The vibrant voice he remembered sounded much older now. Humans aged so fast. “Essie, how would you feel about an all-expenses-paid trip home to Ireland?”

Chapter 2 Michael

Parsonville, California

Dr. Michael Walshe looked at the golden leaves blowing past his office window, wondering if he could get in a run before sunset. The intercom buzzed. “Michael, you have a call from Mrs. O’Brian on line one.”

Michael picked up the phone. “Essie, what’s wrong?”

Essie’s voice had more spring in it than he’d heard in months. “And can’t a body call you without being sick? I was wondering if you could drop by today, Michael, I’ve got to go home to Ireland and I’m not sure I can do it by myself.”

Couldn’t be a funeral. She sounded too perky. “Somebody getting married?”

“More than one, dear boy. I’ve got a mission to fulfill.”

Not good. That sounded delusional. “Of course I’ll come. How bout I make dinner. Spaghetti okay?”

“That will be grand.” Essie’s voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s not just the trip. I don’t know what to do about Chloe.”

“Relax. We’ll figure it out. See you soon.” He flicked the intercom. “Lynne, how many more patients?”

His nurse poked her head through the door. “Prissy was the last one. She told me she’s got a date with you for Saturday. Where was your running pass formation?”

“I zoned out after about fifteen minutes and she slipped it in sideways.”

“Doctor Adorable bites the dust again.” Lynne lounged against the door frame, her rocker-punk hairstyle contrasting oddly with her broad moon face. Her daughter must have been playing hairdresser again. “You know they wouldn’t try so hard if you weren’t hot.”

“Stuff it, Lynne.”

“I’m serious. You look exactly like the new doctor on As She Turns. Tall dark and dreamy.”

Michael turned on the faucets in the small office sink. Lynne needed a new hobby. “Watching soaps will rot your brain.”

“That hint of beard on your strong, manly chin. And that aloof but rumbly look in your eyes and . . .”

He took the last paper towel out of the dispenser. “We need more towels.”

“Your only fault is you don’t have a romantic bone in your body.” Lynne clasped her plump hands over her Hello Kitty scrub top. “I’m having a fantasy here. Don’t ruin it.”

He would never understand women. “What do you need a fantasy for? You’re in love with your husband.”

“So? Tom has fantasies too. Part of being happily married. His is Tracy Jay.”

Michael winced. Growing up with a well-known actress for a godmother meant he’d met lots of A-list stars, but his heart had been immune until Lorena introduced him to Tracy Jay at the wrap party for Just the Girls two years ago.

“Come on, Michael. Don’t you have fantasies?”

“None that I care to tell you about.” His relationship with Tracy was classified. Tracy had wanted it that way. He exchanged his white coat for the tan windbreaker he kept in the small closet. “I’m off to check on Essie. We have a dinner date. I’m making her my secret-recipe spaghetti sauce.”

“Big deal. I know you use Ragu.”

“What is it with this town? You know my grocery list?”

Lynne patted his cheek. “I think there’s a town website devoted to your every move.”

“Go home and annoy your children. We’re done for the day.”

Lynne blew him a kiss and shut the door behind her.

A quick stop at the market, and off to Essie’s. What kind of secret mission could she be fantasizing? His phone buzzed. Another phone call from Tracy. They’d been coming like clockwork all day. He pushed delete without answering.

Lynne’s question echoed in his mind. Don’t you have fantasies? His heart twisted, remembering his last sight of Tracy.

Not anymore.

Read More →