Magic Thursday: A Bite of... Enchanted Dreams with Eleni Konstantine (with giveaway)

Today we have a flash fiction story taken from the short story collection 'Enchanted Dreams'. (The story was originally published on the e-zine site, Antipodean SF in Issue 165, March 2012).

Strange Brew

What the?

I rubbed my eyes, getting my bearings. I was in my bed all right, but a glowing wizard floated at the end of it.

No way!

I rubbed my eyes again. I had to be dreaming. The hobbit-sized wizard had his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth as he concentrated on the clipboard he held. And then it hit me. The smell of stale beer. This wizard was drunk. Not a sentence you expect to mutter to yourself in the middle of the night I tell you, but the man was as drunk as a skunk.

I cleared my throat, deciding to go with the flow of this dream. The wizard looked up and his eyes widened in surprise.

“You're awake.”

I didn't respond.

He looked back down on the clipboard, a finger trailing the page. “Sarah?”

I shook my head.

He frowned and looked back down. “Madison?”

“Again, I shook my head. He shifted as if he was uncomfortable. And then he let out a loud burp. And I mean loud enough for the bed to vibrate. And yep, his lovely stale beer breath rolled over me.

I couldn't help it; I had to hold my nose. “'oly 'ell!”

The wizard's face turned crimson. “Apologies. I was summoned to work at the last minute. Mangus was called away on a family matter. Now to the matter at hand.”

Again, he concentrated on the clipboard. “Mangus has atrocious handwriting.”

“The fact that you're pissed couldn't have anything to do with it?”

The wizard held his head high. “Of course not.” His dignity was spoiled by the burp that followed.

I tried not to laugh, but seriously, this whole dream was getting way too weird. “Look I don't usually dream so vividly. It's been fun but strange.”

“You think you are in a dream?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Let me see, there's a hobbit-sized drunk wizard floating at the end of my bed. So, hell yeah!”

The wizard gave me a long look. “So you were not expecting us for induction. Curious. What is your name?”

“Lizzie.”

He studied the clipboard, turning the page over, his large fuzzy eyebrows turning into a V shape. He ran a hand through his long beard.

“There is no Lizzie here. But how can this be? This is 501 Flats Road?”

“Actually, it's 501b Flats Road.”

His eyebrows drew up at that. “And who is at 501a?”

“Maddy.”

A look of understanding passed his features. “A mix-up. Sorry to trouble you.” And with a flash of colour, he was gone.

I shook my head to clear this ridiculous dream from my head. In the morning though, I found a clipboard on the floor.

Scrawled on a list in atrocious handwriting was: Madison, 501 Flats Road.

Huh, so there had been a hobbit-sized wizard in my room. What do you know? Maddy was an inductee to his magical world.

I readied for work, putting the bulky rabbit costume in the car. Some people get all the luck.

Enchanted Dreams

Be transported to fantastical worlds in this collection of nineteen speculative fiction shorts of previously published works and new stories.  From wizards to magic mirrors, dragons to ghosts, minions to goddesses, space ships to diamond slippers, there's an enchanting tale right for you.

To get a FREE copy, click HERE (for a limited time).

~~

Eleni Konstantine writes speculative fiction and has had a number of short stories published.

Her love of reading comes from her avid reader mum. As a child, illustrated fairy tales and Greek mythology opened up a world of wonder for Eleni. She was bitten by the story bug which soon turned into the writing bug. She finds something enchanting about escaping the world she knows and entering another one. Magic, dragons, wizards, fairies, witches, unicorns, vampires and other mythical creatures have always fascinated her. What's not to like when anything can happen? Sprinkle in a romance and a happy ending and she’s on cloud nine.

Eleni has a love of chocolate (of course!), fizzy drinks, coffee and relishes her afternoon naps. She lives in South Australia with her family and is human to a sassy Rottweiler.

A Bite Of... Dead Monk Walking

Today it's my pleasure to introduce Janni Nell with a Bite Of... Dead Monk Walking.

Can you, in less than five words describe your book Dead Monk Walking?

Fun, paranormal mystery.

Who is your favourite character in this book? Natasha Bolde is a total skeptic when it comes to the paranormal, but she’s forced to rethink her beliefs when she comes face-to-face with a ghost. Soon she and the ghost are working together to solve a five-hundred-year-old mystery.

What inspired you to write it? Cornwall was a huge inspiration. I’ve long wanted to set a story in this lovely part of Britain. It was great fun creating a mystery that used Cornish legends and some of the wonderful historical sites.

And here’s the excerpt!
After making my way past the herbaceous border, I pushed open the rusted gate in an old stone wall and made my way into the less cultivated part of the garden. To my left, a swath of undulating land was dominated by several beautiful oaks. To my right, a path led to the Monk’s Grove. I turned right. Not because I expected to see the ghostly monk, but because the grove looked interesting and mysterious. I’d helped Clover with a couple of cases, and found that I enjoyed solving mysteries even if I wasn’t very good at it. I had expected to improve under Clover’s mentorship, but that wouldn’t happen now. 

Swallowing my tears, I entered the Monk’s Grove. It was cooler beneath the trees. Gray shadows mingled with the scent of recent rain. I followed the path, which wound between neatly trimmed shrubs, until I reached a little clearing with two stone benches. The birdcalls seemed muted here and the leaves in the trees were unnaturally still. A faint scent of decay hung in the air. There was a feeling of nature holding its breath, waiting.

I heard a rustle in the bushes and turned toward the sound. Near the far side of the clearing, a figure was moving through the shrubs. I couldn’t see much below his shoulders, but his head was covered by a dark hood like a monk’s cowl. Was someone dressed up pretending to be the ghost? Did all the guests get this haunted-grove experience? Was it part of the package? Too bad I wasn’t in the mood to play nice.

“Hey! You!” I called. “I don’t believe in ghosts, so you might as well go have a tea break or something.”

When the figure didn’t respond, I marched across the clearing determined to identify him. Shrubs and undergrowth separated us, but I could see that his head was bowed, and the hood was pulled down to conceal his face. He seemed to be searching for something on the ground. His sleeves had been rolled up to the elbows and the exposed skin was covered in dirt. One hand clutched a trowel.

“Hey,” I called again. This time he turned toward me. The hood fell back revealing the face of a woman.

Rivers of dark hair spilled over her shoulders, contrasting sharply with her pale cheeks. She looked to be about thirty, average height, but too thin. She was wearing a dark hoodie, not a monk’s habit. Her vacant eyes looked right through me. “I have to find them. I have to find them,” she mumbled.

“What are you looking for?” I asked. 

She blinked, her eyes struggling to focus. “I know they’re here somewhere.”

“If you tell me what you’re searching for I’ll help you find it.”

She shook her head as though an explanation was beyond her. Then she set off, weaving between the trees, muttering, “I have to find them. I have to find them.”

I followed her through the shrubs, pushing branches aside.

Thanks for sharing Janni.

If readers would like to know more about Janni Nell and her fabulous work, be sure to check out the links below.

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A Bite Of... Magical Redemption

For this week's A Bite Of... we have Magical Redemption, by Nicola E. Sheridan... (that's me)

 

 Describe Magical Redemption in five words or less?

Fun, exciting, magical, mythical, romance

Who was the most enjoyable character to write?

I loved writing Jinx, my large nosed Lebanese heroine, who also happens to be a Genie. She was lovely to write and I had a lot of fun with her. I also loved writing Lucian so much from the an earlier book, that I had to give him his own story.

Who would play your characters in a movie?

I actually gave a copy of this book to Jason Momoa when I met him at Comicon last year, because his is a massive source of manspiration for me!

If I wanted anyone to play Jinx, I'd say it would have to be an unknown actress with a regal-sized nose.

And here's the excerpt!

"What is your price?" Lucian's tone was getting colder. He curled his lip as if the words tasted bad.

There was another sinister silence before the woman spoke.

"I want your word you will give me the genie when you have recieved all your wishes."

Jinx heard her own sharp inhalation of breath roar like a vaccum in her head before her stomach launched into her throat and threatened to choke her. She forgot the commodity she was, and for a moment, she almost forgot it all.

This is what being around demon spawn does, she thought. The gorgeous smell that he wears like a cloak must be his evil pheromone. She stared up at him, waiting for his angry rebuttal. Surely, the man who commanded her to hold his hand, who bought her clothes and curry-puffs, wouldn't just hand her over to a faceless magical being in an orange shroud?

She was mistaken.

"Yes," he said, gazing steadily down the manhole.

With that one word, Jinx through she'd crumble. Of course she was expendable. How dare she think otherwise. Once she gave him the three wishes, she'd be of no further use to him, and he'd soon forget her. There was no point in pretending otherwise. Lucian wasn't the kind of man to pretend or play games, anyway.

Her heart wanted to break.

"Shall we shake on it?" the shrouded woman asked.

"Of course," Lucian agreed and pulled his hand free from Jinx.

Jinx looked away. She didn't want to see them shake on it. There was nothing she could say to change it, nothing she could do at all. She was a slave and always would be. 

If you'd like to find out more about me or what I'm up to, check out the links below.

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A Bite Of... Unknown Protector

Today it is my pleasure to once again welcom the lovely Maggie Mundy with A Bite Of... Unknown Protector.

Can you, in less than five words describe your book Unknown Protector?
Angels, demons, aliens, paranormal, romance.

Who is your favourite character in this book?
Ridge is my favourite. He is a diamond in the rough who drinks whiskey has lots of sex and fights the bad guys. Underneath is someone who has been hurt so much he puts up this defence. When you break through you find someone who wants happiness for himself and others.

What inspired you to write it?
I found that a lot of angel and demons books have a background that is based on the angels from Christianity. I had this concept floating around in my head. What if it was all a myth.

And here's the excerpt!

“Please don’t drop me, please don’t drop me,” Nicole repeated as she closed her eyes. She didn’t like flying in planes, let alone being dragged through the night sky by an oversexed scruffy angel who was too hot for his own good. Or was it her own good.

“I won’t let you fall. Look around before we go over. I reckon you’ve guessed the events of tonight aren’t the way we normally do things. Humans aren’t meant to be aware of our flying through the night sky which means I can’t let you remember any of this.”

She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. His face was close to hers as he gripped her tight around her waist. It was too dark to read what he might be thinking from his expression. His lips were so close and her own were parting at the thought he might kiss her. She trembled, but not from fear anymore and hoped he couldn’t read her mind. They were being hunted and she wanted a kiss, no she longed for it. He had to be putting the thoughts in her head.

She needed to get her mind off him so she gazed down at San Francisco. Her adopted city stretched out below with steep streets reaching down to the harbor, while the lights on the Golden Gate Bridge shone in the distance, reflecting on the water below. She smiled as a tear flowed down her cheek. She had never seen it this way before. For a moment she forgot others were after them or after her in particular. She peeked over Ridge’s shoulder and glanced back over his wings as they glided through the sky. Three dark, winged shapes were following and could be seen against the light of the full moon. Maybe the full moon could explain why strange things were happening, because this was like staring at a scene from a horror movie, except it was real.

The shapes of their pursuer’s bodies blurred. She turned back to the city but the lights of San Francisco were disappearing. In the moonlight she focused on the face next to her. Ridge smiled and touched her cheek with his.

“It’s okay. I’m gonna get you a new guardian and all of this will go away. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

She didn’t want a new guardian, she wanted Mira back. It went dark and reminded her of when she went adventure-caving in Australia. The absolute darkness of underground where not even a trickle of light breaks through, no matter how hard you look. She couldn’t see Ridge anymore, but the closeness of him and the darkness amplified the sound of his wings. For a moment they were all that existed in the universe. His lips touched hers and her mouth opened to him only to have him pull away. Did he mean to do that?

“I suggest you close your eyes and give your mind over to me,” he whispered.

Nicole shook her head and tried to get herself back to reality, whatever that was. “I’m not going anywhere with my eyes shut after tonight, and from what I’m picking up at times your mind seems a bit murky to let you in again.”

“Suit yourself darling, but don’t blame me if you pass out.”

Pain sliced through her temple. She squeezed her eyes shut and instinctively hugged Ridge tighter. His thoughts were in her head again telling her to relax, but this time it wasn’t working. She tried to hold down the rising alarm of what would happen next. Somehow she had an inkling it wasn’t going to be good.

Thanks for sharing Maggie.

 If readers would like to know more about Maggie Munday and her fabulous work, be sure to check out the links below.

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A Bite Of... Loving the Prince

After a brief break, we are back with Nicole Murphy and A Bite Of... Loving the Prince.

Can you, in less than five words describe your book? 
Corporate espionage, betrayal, and love on a moon.

Who is your favourite character? 

Cassandra Wiltmore – I first came up with her when I was 14 as my tribute to Princess Leia from Star Wars. 30 years later, she finally gets to live!

What inspired you to write it?

When it comes to my storytelling, there were two formative influences in my life – seeing Star Wars and reading the Lord of the Rings. I’ve written homages to both of them. The Lord of the Rings one was TERRIBLE, but then so was Cassandra to start with. I perservered with that and now it’s come true. So maybe it’s time for me to return to the forests of Aethanworld…

And here's the snippet...

Cassandra didn’t see Kernan for the next couple of days but when he came to present his report, the awareness that crawled over her skin made her wonder if she’d ever be over him.

Then she remembered she hadn’t seen Di for a couple of days either, thought about what they’d undoubtedly been doing to each other and nausea rose.

She took the memory stick from his hand and plugged it into her reader. Most of it was as she had expected: increased patrols, new coverings on the ducts, more frequent checks of the building. His idea for securing the enriched balcite interested her.

‘A balcite-threaded glass room, open-roofed, walls reaching to the ceiling. Palm and iris locked, restricting numbers of employees allowed access.’ She looked up at him. ‘Someone could use the tracks to drop down into it.’

‘The tracks would be removed from the area. We would need to think about where we positioned it so we didn’t interfere with the moving of the balcite, but we’ll still know what the internal environment is because it will be the same as the rest of the warehouse and the clearness of the walls will mean the E is still under constant surveillance.’

‘Near the stairway up to the offices.’ Cassandra focussed on the far wall as she thought. ‘We can’t move balcite there anyway because it gets in people’s way and blocks their view as they move up and down the staircase.’ She focussed on Kernan and nodded. ‘I like it. I like it a lot. I’ll send it straight through to security.’

‘Thanks.’ A pause, then, ‘So, how’s Hera doing?’

Heartbroken. ‘Fine. How about you?’

He shrugged. ‘Luckily, I’ve got this manic boss who’s working me so hard I don’t have time to think about could-have-beens.’

Did that mean he wasn’t doing the nasty with Di at night? ‘Well, if the pace is too much for you, say the word and I’ll find something calmer.’

Kernan grinned. ‘Work me hard. Whip me. I’ll enjoy it.’

Boy, she really didn’t need the mental image of him enjoying a whipping. ‘Begone.’ She waved him away.

When she walked in the front door of their home that night, Cassandra was surprised to find Diana there. ‘Taking a night off?’ Cassandra said as she flung herself onto the lounge.

‘I’m over him,’ Diana said. ‘Only so much a girl can take.’

Of Kernan? Cassandra doubted it. ‘Good.’

A pause, then Diana laughed. ‘It’s killing you, isn’t it?’

‘What is?’

‘Picturing me with Kernan. You’re dying to ask, but at the same time you don’t want to face it because it really will be the end of your dreams for him. I mean, how can he want you after he’s had me?’

‘Fuck off, Diana.’ Cassandra closed her eyes.

‘He likes to undress you slowly.’ Diana’s voice dampened to a soft, throaty timbre, ‘tracing his fingers over your skin, as if he wants to arouse every single inch of you.’

A more exquisite torture had never been devised. Cassandra didn’t want to hear this but Diana was right — she did want to know. Wanted some hint of reality to base her fantasies on.

‘He likes to find every place on your body that will respond to his touch. Every woman is different, and he makes sure he learns what you need, what you like, so that he can touch you to make you greedy for him.’

‘I’m thinking steak for dinner.’ Cassandra tried for nonchalance but was sure her dry throat and quivering insides were evident in her voice.

‘And when he takes you — ’

‘That’s enough.’ Cassandra launched to her feet. ‘I don’t want to hear about you having sex with Kernan.’ She marched into the kitchen, Diana following.

‘Really? I thought it sounded really good. Hot. Enough to make you tingle and squirm. Are you tingling, Cassandra? Are you turned on?’

Cassandra started to bang pots and pans around.

‘I’m turned on,’ Diana said. ‘Shame I’m never going to know if I’m right or not.’

Cassandra dropped the pot she was holding and spun around. ‘What?’

‘Yep. Outright turned me down. Not interested. Not now, not ever. So, I guess it’s up to you to see if it’s three times the lucky charm with the Wiltmore women and Kernan Radaton.’ Diana winked and sauntered out of the room.

Damn her to the deserts of Jorda.

Cassandra pushed down the glee that Diana and Kernan hadn’t been together and turned back to making dinner. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t interested in her and she had no intention of making a fool of herself.

He would remain in her dreams, and that was all.

Thank you for sharing Nicole!

If you'd like to find out more about Nicole Murphy and her books, check out the links below.

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A Bite Of... The Sorcerer's Spell

This week it is my pleasure to welcome Dani Kristoff with A Bite Of... The Sorcerer's Spell

Can you, in less than five words describe your book?
Very sexy, body-swapping paranormal romance.

Who is your favourite character?
My favourite character would be Rolf as he’s a sexy, mysterious werewolf who finds it hard to say no.

What inspired you to write it?
 That would be a Valerie Parv romance writing class. The idea popped into my head about a woman dreaming of her dead husband and then waking up in bed with another man while being thoroughly rogered.


And here's the excerpt.

It seemed to Annwyn as she tossed and turned that the dream was becoming more and more real. The texture of fantasy and patched-together moments, which had been the flavour of her previous dreams, was absent. This one was more coherent and directed. Thomas’s hands were running up her thighs, cupping her buttocks, moving her sinuously up against his body. There was a scent, so male, surrounding her. She responded to it instinctively, groaning her pleasure. As her arousal grew to a peak and her breathing grew hoarse she could hear Thomas calling her, calling her name and asking to be let in. She began to respond, seeking him in her dream. ‘Thomas?’

Then his presence grew, strong, spicy and overpowering. ‘Annwyn?’ Was that his voice? It didn’t sound familiar.

She could not conjure the image of his face, though his presence was there in her mind. Why was he hiding from her? ‘Thomas? Is that you? Why can’t I see you?’

The voice echoed again, loudly in her mind. ‘Listen, Annwyn, you need to let me in. Let me in. Then you can see me, see all of me again. Let me in. Say you will let me in.’ Again his voice sounded strange to her ears. It had an urgent, pleading note that she had never heard before. Thomas had always spoken to her gently, caressingly.

His hands on her skin distracted her. He was slipping inside, hot and eager. God, she thought, this is intense. She let out a moan. Her dreams had never felt so alive, so real. She was moving with him as he pushed inside her then eased away, only to thrust harder. She found it hard to concentrate. It had been so long since she had been intimate with anyone. ‘Let you in?’ she panted, feeling her body press against the mattress with the weight of her phantom lover. ‘Where? Let you in where?’

His kisses were hard and urgent, kindling a fire deep within her belly. ‘Let me into you. It’s the only way we can be together again.’

Annwyn thought he was already inside her. How much deeper could he go? But he needed her, needed her to open to him on every level.

In the haze of her dream she caved in, surrendered so deeply as she reached out to him that her body shook from the force of it. ‘Come to me. Come in to me.’

The face materialised as the haze of dream lifted, the smile vicious and victorious. In her confusion, Annwyn did not realise until it was too late that it was a woman’s face, with piercing green eyes, alive with a power she could not fathom. It was not Thomas at all.

Annwyn was ripped away. Her consciousness spun into darkness, all the while the man in her dream was making love to her, thrusting into her as her body responded.

Annwyn was tied to this action, linked inexorably to each thrust, each caress, each tantalising kiss. It was as if she was caught and held by a spell and there was no way she could break out of it. Her body was owned by that man, that touch. She had no will to stop him. She was being taken high in the sky where the clouds flowed and drifted, leaving her with barely a sense of the world she inhabited.

For what seemed like a long time she floated, tumbling free with no bed, no room, no house around her. Burning in her ears, stomach heaving, and skin screaming, the sensations overwhelmed her. The only constant was those large strong hands, lifting her hips, angling them for the next thrust, hot mouth on her throat, biting without wounding.

Down, down to earth Annwyn plunged. She cried out with the force of the movement, the abrupt arrival. The crease of the sheets stuck into her back. An orange-tinged hue haloed the bed and beyond light and dark waltzed in the corner of the room.

Screwing her eyes shut, she avoided looking. There was something very wrong in what was happening to her. This was not Thomas’s body on her, in her. She jerked once, sucking in a breath. Then, opening her eyes, she screamed. Screamed like the devil.

‘What the—’ said a deep voice beside her. She heard him but kept on screaming. He disengaged from her, moved away from her yet remained on the bed. The mattress shifted beneath her as the springs adjusted to the change in weight. She screamed again.

‘Stop that,’ the man said, without a hint of sympathy. ‘You knew the consequences of your actions. You knew where this would lead. You will lift the curse now.’

He grabbed her foot. Annwyn kicked out at him, then curled her body into a ball. Through her light blonde hair, she scanned the room. The sound of paws scratching on wood drew her attention to dogs entering from further down the hall to pace around the bed. Some of them moved to huddle together in the corner. All with yellow eyes, watching her. Maybe not dogs. They were too large for dogs.

A sob escaped her, a terrified, visceral sob. Then her eyes flicked from one shadow to another. She could not look at the man sitting next to her on the bed. Her gaze leapt to the wall-sized mirror and to the image there. On a king-size bed, with pure white sheets sagging to the ground on one side, was the man, a sheen of sweat glistening between the shoulder blades and down the vee of his spine, his chest rising and falling noticeably after his exertions. Tall, with short-cut blond hair and wide shoulders tapering to a shapely behind, he sat staring at a woman with light-brown skin.

Annwyn stared at the reflection of the woman huddled near the bed head. It was her, and it was the woman in her dream— she had the same green eyes.

Thank you so much for sharing today.

If you'd like to find out more about Dani's writing, or buy this book, check out the links below. 

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