Don't get me wrong - there was plenty to laugh about when we first arrived in Merry Olde England to watch one of my novels being shot as a major motion picture. Alex was delighted with the location (a seventeenth-century manor house), but horrified with the surfer-dude mimbo playing him. I, personally, found the situation hilarious...then the leading lady started rubbing up against "my" hero, leaving me no choice but to start a little flirtation of my own with the lord of the manor's nephew. It was all very Regency House Party until the scriptwriter showed up...dead. Okay, so things are suddenly getting hot and heavy between Alex and me - and our timing is atrocious as usual, what with the murder and mayhem. Suspects? Don't get me started. There's Mr.
