I write odd, quirky, funny, scary, romantic paranormal romance. Since humor is subjective…well some might laugh out loud at my books and others might want to conk me on the head. I have one son, two dogs, one home and two cats not in the yard, but rather the house. I love to create new worlds and quirky characters and work on my art. I used to do the clay statues, but when I was traveling the Oregon coast I got caught up in the driftwood.
I found wood that looked liked birds, dolphins, crosses, horses, etc. So when I was living in the high desert of Arizona, I found manzanita bushes with great root systems and driftwood from rivers that resembled shapes of things. I got started sculpting with wood. My old editor is there, Chris from Dorchester.
Hello and boo!!! I had a ghost pass by asked about you! I had a wonderful time in Sedona and you were a part of that. We shared some fun times and a lot of laughter. Hope all is well with you. Broke my heart. Everyone else is doing good here. Through the open casement, the scent of rose petals perfumed the air. Since Eve usually saw patients in this room, the walls were painted a pale green and trimmed in various shades of amber—to calm overset sensibilities and fragile nerves.
This was a room that commonly left Eve with a feeling of restfulness, but today her serenity was lost as she envisioned the arrival of her father for their biannual talk. In reality, the "conversations" were one-sided, and filled with a litany of the Captain's complaints. Verily, he would swagger into the room and begin issuing commands as if he were still on deck.
Cursing up a blue streak, he would expect Eve to blindly obey, as all good daughters did in London. Although it was quite true that she was a daughter, and good, Eve had never done terribly well at blindly obeying. To say her fractious father had been disappointed when she failed to take up the gauntlet and sail the seven seas with him, causing mayhem and madness, was an understatement. But Eve had wanted a different kind of life, one that would enable her to be captain of her own dinghy, so to speak.
Yes, being very much her father's daughter and thus stubborn to a fault, she would accept nothing else but a life free of robbing and looting, a life where people respected not only her, but also her chosen profession. Even as a small child, Eve had wanted to make a worthy contribution to the world and not just steal worldly goods from unsuspecting travelers on the high seas—or on the low seas, for that matter.
More Books by Minda Webber
Any liquid-located larceny was bad. Several years ago, fortune had smiled upon her in a less than ideal way: Her great-great-uncle, a vampire, had participated in a duel with a young upstart warlock. Needless to say, he had bitten the dust both figuratively and literally. Though he had won the duel, he had sadly miscalculated the sunrise and gone from being one of the great undead to just plain dead.
Minda Webber ★ The Remarkable Miss Frankenstein читать книгу онлайн бесплатно
Still, her inheritance had allowed Eve to abandon her father's ship and chart her own course, reinventing herself by remodeling her uncle's old manor on the outskirts of London as an asylum for the supernaturally insane. Although mostly mortal and not of a supernatural bent, Eve Bluebeard did have a skeleton or two in the old family wardrobe.
There was a werewolf or three, and warlocks, though only one vampire now that her great-great-uncle was dead.
This rich, diverse ancestry had given Eve a compassion for the supernatural, and also marginal inclusion into the otherworldly world. Her father, literally an old sea dog, had inherited a few shapeshifter traits, though he was not yet nor would he ever be a full-blooded werewolf. I was enjoying this pun-laden book until Adam Griffin appeared. I didn't find him amusing at all.
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