Novel & Cerita Book Eating Magician

And with a chuckle, my mother headed to the head of the table. “What does she mean by keeping my thoughts less insulting?” Magg asked with a slight frown as she lowered herself on one of the golden chairs. I settled on an empty chair beside her. “Exactly what you think it means.” I eyed the dishes on the table hungrily. I hadn’t eaten yet, and longed to do so. Reawakening my appetite seemed to have turned me into a ravenous beast. I reached out for a soft piece of bread and dipped it into the olive oil beside the plate, then lifted it into my mouth.

“You know what? I think you’re right.” He looked over at me. “I’m serious,” I said, leaning in like I was telling him a secret. “You didn’t hear this from me, but… Nonna Lucia? She’s a witch.” His eyes widened. “A good witch,” I added quickly. “She puts a spell on the meatballs when I eat them. Makes sure they taste perfect.” He grinned. “I want magic meatballs!” “I’ll take you back,” I promised, laughing. “Just you and me this time. We’ll sit in the corner booth and order three plates. One for each of us, and one just for leftovers.”

“A friend of Theodore’s new mate is a friend of ours; come tell us about yourself.” I let their voices fade behind me as I walked down the hall and into the kitchen. There, I unpacked all the food that would help fuel my magic. I was going to need to figure out how to cook with these types of ingredients. As if my thoughts had conjured it, a recipe book lay at the bottom of the box. I pulled it out carefully, immediately noticing it was used. A piece of paper stuck out of the top, and I opened the book to that page.

"How am I supposed to survive anorexia?" The top comment read, "Get yourself a boyfriend who's a chef! My husband changes up the menu every single day of the year, and even the apples he slices for me are always shaped like little bunnies. I've basically fallen in love with food because of him!" A netizen gushed, "Whoa! Where do you even find a gem like that?"

That night, I bled out and died. Haunted by the agony of my previous life, I pushed down the fury and put on a grin. "Janet, go ahead and cook your signature dish! That'll up your chances to be the rich dude's wife." Our mother, Fiona Walker, seemed unsure. "I've heard that Indoria folks don't do beef. Christina, you're the brainy one in the family, what's your take?" Before I could answer, Janet shot me a death glare. "Indoria's a beef-exporting powerhouse! There's no way they don't eat it. I saw a bunch of cows at the rich guy's place. They're definitely for chowing down! Don't bother Christina with that stuff. Remember, she's my rival now."

She wasn’t sure that she would want to eat, but the food really did smell amazing. “How did you know I liked eggs?” Majesta asked as she looked at the food. “I didn’t. It was a guess, to be honest.” Magnusson shrugged his shoulders. She smiled and let the man put the tray on the bed; she did notice the bag on it and went to pick it up. Before she could, Magnusson had it. He gave it a slight shake and sank his fangs into the bag. The sound of slurping entered the room, and she couldn’t help but laugh. She watched as the color started to return to his face. It astounded her that he could look so dead one moment and alive the next. She put that thought aside and started to eat the food in front

Soren turned me to face him, his eyes glowing with the purest happiness I’d ever seen. “Well,” he said, kissing each of my palms. “I think that calls for a celebration.” He guided me to a table set for two—white tablecloth, single red rose, lanterns casting warm light. When he lifted the lid on my plate, revealing a perfect steak, I laughed. “How did you even manage this? Was Obsidian your waiter?” “A magician never reveals his secrets,” he said, winking as he poured chilled white wine. “Though he is very well-paid in raw sirloin.”

I glared at him, or at least tried to, since I wanted to break the silence and distract his intense gaze from me. He cocked an eyebrow at me. "Oh? It's my big ego now? If I remember correctly, and I do, there was also your pride involved, Ms. Evelyn White. So as far as pride and egos are concerned, I'd say neither of us is the better one. And as for feeling bad about Maggs, don't. Maggs makes more than enough with the restaurant and she has one more outside the town that she runs from here with occasional visits by her and her husband, Peter.

He felt so exhausted, but he wasn’t going to sleep, not until he got dinner for Martina. He sat in the living room and placed an order for the Magic Bowl, a Chinese-Mauritian dish that is a special stir fry finished with a fried egg on top. Vincenzo’s mouth watered as he stared at the picture of the meal. “Roberto would love to have this.” He thought. He stood up from the sofa and rushed down to Roberto’s room. He got to the door and knocked on it softly. “What would you love to eat Mr. Roberto? You haven’t eaten anything today,” He placed his ear against the door to hear his response.

I shared with him. He looked at me confused, when I snapped my fingers and produced cutlery in my hands. “How the hell did you do that?” he asked in awe, while I simply smiled at him. “Magic,” I replied around a bite of pizza. “I cannot wait to find out what other things you can do with this magic,” he teased as he took a bite of the delicious pizza.