Genie Knows Best Read Online Free

trolls as a race weren’t narcoleptic, and they all had the same hairstyle.
    “I am not a what. I’m a who , and I’ll have you know that I’m a—”
    “He’s a blabbermouth, is what he is.”
    Kal groaned as Fritz crawled out of the listing drainpipe on Tia Pipa’s Nut Shop. Talk about an end to whatever moment he and Samantha might have had… Where one gnome went, others were sure to follow, especially since many of them carried pint-sized friends beneath their pointed caps.
    Surprisingly, this time, only six popped out. But they all had their pitchforks.
    But then the shutters on McKeever’s Pub opened and Seamus tapped the window with his shillelagh. His cronies raised their frosted mugs and flipped gold coins toward Seamus, who caught them in his green top hat with a wink at Kal.
    So much for fulfilling Samantha’s wish of making all her troubles disappear. From the way she was spinning around as the citizens of Izaaz crawled out of the woodwork—literally—Kal would bet (and from the looks of the leprechauns, they already were) that she was thinking her troubles were just beginning.

3
    A genie.
    A genie . No. That wasn’t possible. Genies didn’t exist. This had to be a dream. It was crazy. It was ridiculous. Insane.
    Yet that kiss had been real. Samantha put her fingers to her mouth, the feel of her skin nothing like that of his lips.
    She glanced at him. Why had he kissed her? And why wasn’t she giving him hell for it?
    She’d been about to, but then pitchfork-carrying, pointed-hat-wearing gnomes had crawled out of the downspouts, and… oh, yeah, that’d be why. It had nothing whatsoever to do with Albert’s offhanded, metaphorical stomping of her dreams and self-esteem. Nothing to do with being blindsided yet again. Being used. No, nothing to do with that at all.
    No, the reason she wasn’t taking umbrage with that high-handed kiss was because the insanity of this situation was even more insane than some random guy kissing her.
    Some random, half-naked, hot guy.
    One of the gnomes tripped and his pitchfork went flying, landing at Samantha’s feet.
    Gnomes. Pitchfork-bearing gnomes. That was insanity.
    Then the gnome picked up the pitchfork, tipped his hat to her, and army-crawled back the way he’d come.
    She had to be in Oz. Or Narnia. Maybe Middle-earth. Or possibly the Addams family’s neighborhood, because not only was she looking at gnomes, the likes of which she’d only ever seen on television commercials; but a dozen of Cousin Itt’s cousins were shuffling out of one building, and a parade of men no taller than the back of that suddenly appearing chair were filing out of another. Dressed in green, the men had black shoes, black belts, and black bands around their green top hats, all with big gold buckles on them.
    Yes, she’d definitely gone over some rainbow because this had to be Oz—and that guy at the head of the green-man brigade the mayor—because she’d planned Dad’s funeral for November seventeenth not March seventeenth and she hadn’t had even a sip of the arak .
    “Top o’ the mornin’ to ye, lass,” the mayor said with a heavy, deep brogue, putting the kibosh on Oz. Maybe she was in Brigadoon.
    “All right, all right, stand back. Give the lady some breathing room.” The fennec was running back and forth like a Border collie wannabe, as the parade fanned out around them. “She’s still in the adjustment period. No one say anything to upset her.”
    Ah, her very own knight in shining fur. Pity he was too late on the no-upsetting thing.
    Then a centaur trotted up behind the crowd, taking upset to a whole new level.
    “Kal!” Half-horse, half-man, the creature fist-pumped the genie over the little people. “How’s it goin’? You done yet? I figured, with the High Master all set to announce something big at the bash next week in Al-Jannah, you’re finally getting that promotion.”
    Aladdin—no, Kal —shook his head. “Not yet, Wayne. There’s still