SPECIAL! Selections from Jenny Williamson's Enemy of My Dreams Audiobook
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selections from her new novel enemy of my dreams it is available in audiobook jenny has provided us with short little introductions for each of the scene and told us everything more about the book that you need to know but i really just want you to listen i read this book ages ago um

And I am so excited to know that or to have it out in this world. I got to read it before it was published. I'm excited to read it again. And the sequel, which is in the works and which is in my inbox because I have special treatment. Honestly, it's great. I love Jenny. And so just please sit back and enjoy these selections from her incredibly beautiful,

historical and mythical romance, but also full of Roman warfare novel, Enemy of My Dreams. Hi there, let's talk about Miss Baby listeners. I'm Jenny Williamson. I have a podcast, Ancient History Fangirl, where we talk about true stories and tall tales from the

also, I'm a romance author. I wrote a romance novel called Enemy of My Dreams about Alaric of the Visigoths, who sacked Rome in 410 AD, and in my book he falls in love with a very boozy, very hedonistic Roman princess who I made up. Together, they tear down an empire. But first they have to fall in love, and these are two people who would rather be eaten by wolves.

It's a fun novel, and I think fans of Liv Albert's Let's Talk About Myths, Baby! will love this book for its semi-mythological historical time period, its wild take-no-prisoners heroine, and its unabashed smuttiness. The audiobook version is narrated by the outstanding Lisa Flanagan, and I thought I would share this snippet with all of you. The audiobook version is narrated by the phenomenal Lisa Flanagan, and I thought that I would share this snippet with all of you.

This scene is my heroine Julia's introduction. She's based on three historical figures. Julia the Elder, daughter of the Roman Emperor Augustus, who was exiled to an island for being, as the ancients say, too slutty. Gala Placidia, the real sister of the Emperor Honorius, who married a Gothic king, not Alaric though. She's probably the closest in history to my Julia. And her daughter Honoria.

who refused to marry the man her mother picked out for her and sent a proposal of marriage to Attila the Hun. These were all real historical women who were fascinating in their own right. My Julia has a little bit of all of them, and she's definitely a party girl when we meet her. This is her intro scene, and I hope you all enjoy it. Enemy of My Dreams is available in hardcover, ebook, and audiobook format wherever books are sold.

Julia Augusta, daughter of the late Theodosius the Great, cracked an eye at the blazing pernicious dawn shining through the window and immediately shut it again. There had been opium in the wine last night. Julia knew both from the peachy glow that had transformed her triclinium into a gleaming wonderland and the viciously pounding headache that was now pulverizing her skull.

She had known what the blue lotus would do to her in the morning, and she hadn't cared. A grave miscalculation. She was lying on her bed, her head pillowed on the soft, breathing stomach of her best friend Verena, the niece of Rome's most illustrious general. Her limbs splayed across the torso of a senator's son. Several others slept tangled in the huge bed and on the cushion-strewn couches and on the floor. Verena, she murmured. Mm-hm.

came the reply. Julia sat up, the sun streaming through the courtyard stabbed at her eyes. Even the water trickling in the impluvium fountain aggravated her pounding head. Her elegant bedroom was in extravagant disarray. Wine spilled on white marble, couches overturned, and cushions scattered in the wreckage of last night's bacchanal. All around lay the sleeping bodies of the young and decadent of Ravenna.

sons and daughters of senators and statesmen, philosophical luminaries and handsome stage actors, most in a state of undress that would appall their parents. A man in a satyr costume sprawled on a saffron couch, drooling into a silken cushion. The miasma of stale wine in the air was thick enough to intoxicate all over again. Julia pushed a hank of sweaty red hair out of her face and pulled a swath of near transparent silk up over her breasts.

It barely concealed her gilded nipples. The crown she had worn last night as Queen of the Maynards, Mistress of Revelries, was somehow still on her head and decidedly askew. Beside her, Verena curled up around another cushion, pulling the same silk up over her own shoulders. It appeared to be a curtain yanked down from one of the windows. Images of last night came intruding on her thoughts. The music, the mad dancing, the opium in the wine.

Julia shut her eyes. She needed a bath, a bath, then a drink, in that order. A shrill voice sliced through her skull. Julia Theodosia Augustophilia, Julia winced. It was Olympias, her late father's favored minister standing in the doorway. He wore his usual joyless cassock, his expression drawn into the sour frown of a man constantly smelling his own foul scent.

Dismiss your friends, Augusta. His gaze flicked over the piles of half-naked slumbering bodies with bone-deep disgust. You and I must talk. Julia sighed heavily. She had known this was coming. You heard the man, she said grandly to the still slumbering group. Slowly, her friends hauled themselves up and stumbled around for their clothes. Verena righted herself reluctantly with a look of supreme annoyance at Olympias.

I'll find you later, Verena whispered, after you've had his blood cleaned off the floor. Julia smirked. At a signal from her, an army of soft-footed servants entered and began discreetly putting the room to rights. Julia maintained an air of casual unconcern, watching the blotchy red spread from the man's face to his neck. By the time the group had thinned out, she was fairly certain Olympias would burst a vessel.

I hardly expected to find you so improperly dressed this late in the day. Julia stood with as much dignity as she could muster, wrapping a robe around herself as if it were an empress's gown. She was very aware of what he saw. Her red hair trailing down her back, the smeared black coal wringing her eyes, the gilded nipples under the silk. But the way his face flamed, she rather thought he was at the disadvantage.

Since the age of 15, she'd been aware of the effect she had on men. She was not above using it to make an uptight zealot uncomfortable, and she would walk over hot coals before she would let Olympias think he had any power to discomfort her. Julia had been playing this game for a long time, and the first rule was to never let him see her rattled.

Despite the vicious pounding in her head, she maintained an air of casual ease as she sauntered over to one of the couches. On the contrary, receiving guests in this manner is all the fashion now. Of course, one wouldn't expect you to know that. Went unsaid, she gave him a cutting smile. With Olympias, she kept everything transparent and sharp as glass. Please.

She gestured to the lumpiest sofa, the one the satyr had been drooling on. Sit. Olympias settled onto the saffron yellow sofa. He'd gotten thin since her father's death, his already lean features edging toward gaunt. His eyes had always bulged, now they seemed to fairly pop out of his face. Her chamber slave, Agatha, arrived with a pitcher of the low quality wine from the Vatican Hill that had been foisted upon her last week.

It flowed red into Olympias' cup. You were missed last night at the mass for your father. I spent 40 nights at vigil, 40 nights bending knee to stone in the dusty basilica. She'd die if they made her do it for one more miserable hour. I cannot imagine what else you want from me. It is not what I want from you, Augusta. It is what is best for the realm. His frown deepened.

When your brother ordered you to keep to your rooms when not in the basilica, he meant for you to be at prayer with your women, not involved in clandestine orgies with Ravenna's most degenerate. By now, everyone will know that last night, instead of attending the mass for your father, you hosted a party at which there was opium, prostitutes, men dressed as satyrs, and the lowest kind of debauchery. Julia let out an elaborate sigh.

How could the headache throb so hard behind only one eye? There was only one satyr, if you must know. His gaze, she noticed, had drifted distinctly south of her neck. She raised a cool brow. Does it keep you up at night, Olympias? Contemplating my debauchery? His face darkened to purple.

Since your father's death, you have embarked in a headlong descent into depravity, he said stiffly. Spending time with people below your station, reading and discussing the works of philosophers with men. You take opium, become inebriated, and have had at least one very public affair. He drew a swath of parchment out of his robes and rattled it in his hand. Your brother has entrusted me to give you this.

fear and fury shot through her honorius give me that julius snatched the letter and unrolled it with undue haste two words stood out like they'd been excised in gold leaf treason and exile read it olympias said aloud julia drew a breath

It is hereby decreed that any exhibition of debauchery, consumption of wine, fraternization with those below her social class, reading of unseemly tracts of literature, or the ingestion of opium on the part of the Emperor's sister, shall be considered an act of treason against the Augustus himself. The paper crinkled where she gripped it. Punishable by exile to, to Pandateria.

In this scene, my heroine Julia has to persuade Alaric, the terrifying warlord who has come to Rome to bargain for his homeland, to bargain with her instead.

go about as well as you might expect. I love this scene because it's funny, because of how they spark off each other, and because of how wild Julia is. It's one of their earlier interactions that I think is just so fun, and I had a great time writing it. And you also get introduced to some of the side characters who I also just love. I hope you enjoy this scene as much as I enjoyed writing it, and I think the narration by Lisa Flanagan is so terrific and really brings it to life. And

Enemy of My Dreams is available in hardcover, e-book, and audiobook format wherever books are sold. Alaric thrust aside the door flap with one arm, staring with no small measure of astonishment down at the Princess Julia. She was staring up at him, swaying slightly on her feet and looking surprised to see him in his own damn tent. Alaric glanced at Riga, speaking in gothic, How the hell did she get in here? Mystery to me. I think she's drunk.

That much was certain. There was a fresh scent of wine on the woman's breath, and an unfocused look to her eyes that spoke of something more. Opium, maybe. He switched to her own imperial Latin. Hello, Julia. Send your men away, won't you? She looked at him beseechingly, the pitch-perfect tone of a manipulator in distress. What I have to say concerns your ears alone. Alaric gave her a particularly nasty smile.

No. Clearly, people didn't tell her that very often. Julia's delicate jaw clenched and her eyes lit with temper. Have it your way. I'll say it right here. She raised her chin. You were talking to the wrong child of Theodosius at that banquet. I'm here to give you an empire. If Julia was capable of one thing in this world, it was holding her liquor.

She'd drunk only enough to drown the fear. But now, craning her neck to meet the barbarian king's gaze, she realized too late that it hadn't worked. She was terrified. His eyes slid to her lips and suddenly she was very aware of his nearness, in a way entirely different than fear. You have my attention, Julia. He gave her a mocking smile. He knew exactly the effect he had on her. Damn him.

and crossed the tent, taking a seat in a battered camp chair. At his signal, one of his men brought her a three-legged stool. Sit. She did. What is it you want? So blunt. If I was a man, I would be given all the courtesies. She needed wine of the non-drugged variety. That would calm her nerves. I believe it's customary to offer refreshment to a royal guest before negotiations. So we ought to negotiate now, he said softly.

but to her surprise he acquiesced at another of his wordless signals someone handed him a wineskin alaric poured some onto the ground speaking in gothic then he drank muscles moving in the golden column of his throat a tradition among my people he told her solemnly offering her the wineskin we drink to woden that he may grant us wise and fruitful conversation julia eyed what he offered with trepidation she'd never drunk to honor a barbarian god

She wasn't sure such an action was entirely sanitary, but there was a challenge in Alaric's eyes. He didn't think she had the nerve. Julia snatched the wineskin with firm resolve. Wise and fruitful indeed, she said, smiling through her teeth. Then she put the wineskin to her lips and drank deep. Searing fire streaked down her throat. Bloody hell, she managed, bent in half by a fit of gasping coughs.

What in all the toli is this? Ielu, a liquor made from barley. He watched her struggle with cool dispassion. If it is too strong for you, we have water. A pox on your water. She took another swallow. The bright burning line lit up the inside of her throat again. But this time she was ready. The drink was good. The drink was what she needed. Does she know she's supposed to sip it? Riga asked, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

Perhaps we should tell her, Atolf mused, looking not the least inclined to do it. We can't let her drink all of it. That's the last of the batch. Thorismund sounded distinctly irate. If you piss weasels won't stop her, I will. No, Alaric held up a hand. Let her dig her own grave. Whatever she wanted, she seemed intent on making a fool of herself in getting it. Maybe she'd come to seduce him to her cause, he thought.

eyes lazily tracing the fine lines of her collarbones. Maybe he'd let her try. You've had your drink. Custom demanded they pass the skin back and forth between them, taking small sips as offer met with counteroffer. Julia gave no sign she intended to pass it back. Now speak. Her voice dropped low, the affected purr of a gifted seductress. You plan to ransom me, but I have a better proposition. We share the same enemy.

My brother, put me on his throne and you can have any land you want. Point to a place on a map and it's yours. Not a chance. He had been betrayed for the last time by Theodosius and his children. Put you on the throne. Alaric struggled not to laugh. You, she frowned. You laugh because I was born a woman. I laugh because you were born a lapdog.

Perhaps I should let my people bleed and die to raise one of your brother's peacocks to the purple. It makes just as much sense. The look she gave him could freeze fire. They're cockerels. I wonder, he mused lazily, what would drive an emperor's sister to slip me a knife in the middle of a battle and engineer her own kidnapping? You've met my promised husband.

Olympias, she said coolly. I loathe the very ground he stands on. She meant it well enough. The venom in her voice was real. So the woman was running away from her engagement. And what is this to do with me? Honorius ordered me to marry him. The only way to argue with Honorius is with an army at my back. She raised her eyes blue-green and fierce as a cat in a trap. Your army.

Julia took another hard slug from the wineskin. If she just kept drinking, she could be Cleopatra. You will need allies when the time comes, she informed the barbarian warlord who was currently glaring at her in an intimidating fashion. No one knows the snake pit of Roman politics like I do. You cannot hold Rome by force of arms alone. Take it, maybe, but not hold it. Who says I want to hold it? Maybe I just want to see it burn.

He bared his teeth in a brutal smile. Grow up, woman. What does it matter if you hate your husband? Marriage does not follow love, it never has. You'd be less of a fool to lie on your back as you were made to do. Julia bristled. A searing flush swept across her body, bright heat just beneath the skin. Outrage choked her throat. The nerve. How far down the peninsula do you think you'll get without support from at least some of the people? She snapped.

Not everyone in Rome is happy at my brother's rise. I could lend your next invasion legitimacy. Somehow her tongue got tangled over the word. And beyond that, money. I have a fortune in villas all up and down the coast. All yours, King of the Goths. She let out a hiccup. When had there become two of him? I think I should sit down. Alaric's reply seemed to come from the bottom of a well. Julia barely heard.

Slowly, she slid off the chair and onto the bearskin rug. Alaric watched the princess slide off the stool and list onto the bearskin like a sinking ship. That last pull from the wineskin had been the one that broke her. He could not trust a thing she said, of course. She was a daughter of Theodosius. She'd shred any agreement the moment it suited her. Even so, he wanted her. Even now, you're already sitting. She ignored that.

He knelt beside her and offered her water, which she regarded with scorn. I'd be emperor already if I were a man, she declared accusingly. Certainly, he drawled. Drink. She took the water skin. Up close she smelled of Iolu and sweat, and beneath it the intoxicating scent of roses. She took a sip and grimaced. This is water, he laughed. And what else should it be?

She stared up at him as if just realizing he was there. Eyes green as gemstones one moment, dark blue the next, like the sea over a vast crevasse. What else do you want from me, King of the Goths? Her lush red lips curved in a drowsy, knowing smile. Her hand rested boldly on his arm. A scorching burn. Fuck. He'd put her in the farthest tent from his. He'd been scrupulously careful.

Do you even know what you're offering, Julia? She let the sentence fall away, her mouth a breath from his, begging to be plundered. Fuck it. He could send his men away, then press her back on this bearskin and take what she offered. He would make her sob for him. It would be his own kind of revenge. I believe I shall take a nap, the Princess Julia announced to the room at large, fingers curling in the bearskin.

I am indisposed. You may all come back later. Come back tomorrow. Then she lay down on her side on Alaric's bearskin rug and let out a particularly loud snork. For a breath, quiet reigned in his tent. Well, Riga said cheerfully. Now what? Let's have a bit of fun with her, Thorismund growled. Show her the consequences of drinking the last of a man's batch.

Maybe tie her to a stake outside, Riga said agreeably. Leave her for the beasts. Not one of you touches her. Alaric spoke softly but with a force that shut them up. The edge of her stola rode up her perfect leg, and he took off his cloak to cover her. There was a thin line of drool dangling from her mouth now. Drool, Alaric shook his head in disgust. He didn't even like this woman.

We cannot take her, Atolf said. She's a distraction. Alaric glanced pointedly at Atolf's new lover, the Gothic ex-slave with the calculating eyes who had stayed conspicuously quiet. As if you don't have your own distractions. Do you honestly think the Romans will bargain for her? She's defied her own brother. They'll bargain, Alaric said. The boy emperor can't afford to look so weak as to have his kin kidnapped out from under him.

He lifted his eyes to the twins, who had come bursting into the tent just now. He hadn't the patience for whatever elaborate excuse they'd no doubt invented to explain their failure to keep the princess confined. Take her back to the tent, he ordered them before they could say a word. He would deal with them later. Then he called his men around him and bent over the maps, the plan for their escape already building in his mind.

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So this scene is where Julia is further deciding how she can get Alaric on her side. She wants his help to overthrow her brother, and she decides that she is going to seduce him into it. Granted, she's hungover in the woods, so that just shows you how desperate things are at the moment. And I like this scene. I think it's really fun and shows the enemies-to-lovers dynamic between them, and I hope you like it too. Enemy of My Dreams is available in hardcover, ebook, and audiobook format wherever books are sold.

lie on her back as she was made to do indeed julia would admit in the interest of fairness that she had drunk far too much last night and she'd perhaps overestimated her own ability to hold the foreign liquor which did not agree with the blue lotus she'd vomited twice this morning

But nothing about the situation had required him to mock her before all of his men. The man wasn't just a terrifying warlord, he was rude, and for no good reason. She could give him everything he wanted, if only he would help her with the pesky little problem of not currently being empress. Why wouldn't he take what she offered? Why wouldn't he take what she offered? Julia sat with her back to a tree, watching the men roll themselves in their cloaks and prepare for sleep.

She didn't have a cloak. They all expected her to sleep on the ground and eat shoe leather. Her body still ached in places she didn't know existed from the long days spent on the horse. In Alaric's arms, a slow flush heated her cheeks. That man had no right to be so beautiful. Just looking at him made her angry. What right had he to be so tall and so perfectly built?

She couldn't stop staring at the swell of his chest beneath his tunic, the chiseled strength of his arms. But looking at his face was perhaps the most dangerous of all. Clean-shaven and arrogant, skin tinged with gold as if he spent all his time in the sun. And those eyes. The shock of meeting his gaze was enough to make her forget her own name. She could hate him for that alone. He was across the clearing now, rubbing his horse down with a handful of grass.

Julia couldn't help but stare at the way his back muscles shifted beneath his tunic, the way he placed a hand on the horse's haunch speaking low. She sucked in a furious breath. He hadn't touched her last night. She'd woken up in the tent that morning freezing on the hard ground and her head pounding worse than it ever had in her life, thoroughly untouched. She'd been at his mercy and he hadn't touched her. He did want her, did he not?

Had she imagined the heat that seemed to scorch her skin whenever he looked at her? If he ransomed her back to Honorius, she was done for. Julia felt her hands clench into fists. He had refused her alliance. All that was left was seduction. She could admit last night hadn't been her most elegant attempt. But since when did a woman have to be elegant to seduce a man like that? He was a barbarian, was he not? Accustomed to taking what he wanted. She would have to try again, sober this time.

Dark had fallen by now. Alaric was still awake, sharpening that wicked curved sword of his while he kept watch. He looked like everyone's nightmare of raiding barbarians in the night come true. She felt a slash of fear. A man like that wouldn't be gentle. He would take what he wanted, use her as he liked. A hot, explicit pulse bloomed between her thighs. Julia shifted uncomfortably on the ground. Stupid body. It would work, she told herself.

Did men not fall at her feet? Cornelius had, and he had died for it. Julia felt a stab of sudden crippling guilt. She shoved it away. Think, she told herself, how should it be done? She was a princess of Rome. She would not simply crawl under his cloak like a camp follower. But there was a river between the trees. It would be the perfect place for a seduction, moonlit and private. Julia rose to her feet.

Alaric's gaze fell on her and for a moment she couldn't move as he lazily perused every inch of her. She felt it, a wave of heat that ignited an answering burn beneath her skin. Yes, he wanted her, he did, this would work. She turned and started walking through the trees. The water broke the moon's reflection into a thousand shards of silver. Soft mosses cushioned her footfalls. It was a very mythological place.

She would have chosen a perfumed bed for her first time, piled high with silks and cushions. But this would do. Her throat was suddenly dry with terror. Julia had always been aware of the effect she had on men. They blushed and stammered and averted their eyes, made fools of themselves to gain her favor. Of course, her body would be pledged as her father willed. And if she turned up pregnant before marriage, that was a dire offense. In addition, her mother's death in childbirth still gave her screaming nightmares.

None of that prevented her from taking lovers, of course, but she had always chosen very carefully. Men like Cornelius, sweet and biddable and easily controlled. Men so grateful for her favor that they would never dare transgress beyond what was offered. Which was to say that the princess with the reputation for orgiastic revelry was still technically a virgin.

Alaric was completely unsuitable to share her bed, of course. If she'd ever met a man like him at court, she'd run in the opposite direction. But now she needed his favor. It was all so terribly unfair. Would it hurt the first time? Not with a considerate lover, but Alaric would surely be a brute. Stupid, what did it matter if it hurt? Starving on pandeteria would hurt worse. Julia eyed the sluggish water with trepidation.

There were probably snakes and bugs and eels in that water. This was the furthest thing from her seduction of Cornelius. There was dirt under her nails and her hair was long and loose and tangled, crusted with something she shuddered to name. Her gown was a torn, soiled wreck. She had no armor, Julia sighed. She knew what had to be done and she did not want to. Did not want to go into the river and rise from it nude, hair streaming wet down her back.

She would keep her gown on. It was silk. It would cling. Julia dipped a toe into the water and flinched. It was freezing. Hopefully the barbarian warlord would at least concede to do the deed on the bank. The bottom of the river was thick with mud that squelched between her toes. Julia waded into the river up to her thighs. Then, missing nothing in the world so much as her clean, heated baths at home, she sank into the water up to her breasts.

And waited, and waited. Really? Julia gritted her teeth. She was shivering violently now. Was it possible he had misinterpreted her blatant invitation? Who did he think he was to make her wait? Something cold and slimy brushed her feet. Julia leaped up with a yelp. When she looked back, he was leaning against a tree on the riverbank, watching her. Is this elaborate performance for me? I'm honored.

Casually she stood, wringing out her hair like she'd seen Aphrodite do in a famous portrait. What performance? I'm simply having a wash. You gave no orders not to. He smiled faintly. You don't strike me as the kind who follows orders. Very perceptive. I prefer to give the orders. Julia let her voice drop to a suggestive purr. I will only obey a man worthy of commanding me.

Slowly, she began to walk toward him, trying not to slip on the treacherous river bottom. His eyes were on her with the fierce attention of a wolf watching a wounded deer. Suddenly, she was extremely aware of how her wet clothes stuck to her body. Is this what you want, woman? There was a harsh edge to his voice. He was so direct. Her face heated. Does it matter what I want? Yes, it damn well matters, Julia.

He purred her name, a mocking edge to his voice. Then he pulled off his tunic and stood before her, naked from the waist up. Her face went up like a bonfire. Julia had seen plenty of men's naked torsos before, but with the exception of gladiators, those had been very different from Alaric. In her circles, the smooth, slim perfection of youth was the ideal. No hint of vulgar excess. Excessive wasn't how she'd describe Alaric.

Magnificent was more fitting. She saw a broad, muscular torso, hard from a lifetime wielding sword and spear, crossed with scars that only made him more breathtaking. The only thought she could summon was that everyone she knew had been wrong about male beauty, completely wrong. Suddenly, she wasn't cold at all. She was burning in her own skin, and he hadn't even touched her.

Then he looked at her with a mocking turn of his mouth and tossed her his shirt. Since you're down there, wash this. She caught it on instinct. It smelled of man and horse and sweat. His laughter curled her toes in the riverbed, and she had never hated anyone more. You, you bastard. She made as if to rip it in half. I wouldn't if I were you. He turned and started back to the camp. And wash yourself while you're at it, Julia.

There's vomit in your hair. Thank you all so much for listening. As always, I think that this is about the time that I'll just pop in and tell you that as I was recording the introduction, my...

Slightly maniacal Greek kitten came over and hopped up on my keyboard and pressed a button that just made Chapel Rowan play in my ears instead of recording the mid-sentence I was in the middle of. It was very jarring. I mean, who's not? Who's mad about having Chapel Rowan play in that way? But maybe not when I'm recording an episode.

Thank you all so much for listening. I hope you've had your interest piqued by Jenny's book. Take a look and I hope you like it if you either listen on audio or pick it up in the bookstore, wherever books are sold. Enemy of my dreams.

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