When I was younger and first getting into reading for pleasure, Little Women by Louisa May Alcott was one of my favorite. I identified with Jo with her tomboy attitude and passion for writing. I even had a crush on Laurie and couldn’t for the life of me understand why Jo and he didn’t end up together. […]
After reading several works, I’m concerned that those dreadfuls, vampires, werewolves, and the hordes of demons are too much for your ladylike constitution.
For a poor, parentless orphan, Jane Slayre had the remarkable good fortune to be quite lucky.
It isn’t often that I come across a book that leaves me in utter disappointment to the extent that I would go so far as to discourage anyone else from reading it–especially if reading it involves spending any money–but Emma and the Werewolves by Jane Austen and Adam Rann is just such a book.
