I tried to like this book, but really just found it...unfortunate.

In the prologue, PI Ann Mellion accidentally happens into a federal operation and ends up saving on of their operatives. Although they are not allowed to meet, the agent begins sending her flowers anonyomously.

A few months later, she is hired to pose as an heiress and travel to a will-reading. Of course this takes place in a rambling Gothic mansion. It soon becomes apparent to the reader that one of the male characters staying at the house is none other than the secret agent mystery man. Unfortunately, this remains a mystery for far too long, as we don't get to find out for certain which character he is until almost 2/3 of the way through the book.

If such a thing were really necessary, it would have been nice to at least have meaningful clues, but the Ann seems to think all the men are equally handsome and equally distasteful at the same time. So much for the magic of true love. So that's a bummer, as it leads to 2/3 of the book with absolutely no romance or sexual tension.

Sadly, the last 1/3 doesn't really get better. Once we find out who our hero actually is, things don't really progress emotionally. They share a few kisses which are nothing special for the reader, and keep saying that they shouldn't be doing this or shouldn't rush things. Then they jump into bed for the required commumation scene, which, again, is not impressive.

The whole book feels very formulaic and plot-heavy with little attention to characters. And in the end there's nothing that original enough about the plot to make that remotely ok. It's got the same emotional impact as a Scooby Doo episode, though lacking Scooby Doo humor and taking much longer to get through.

Ok, and here's the WORST part. A quote from the "hero" while they are still naked in bed:

"'I've come across women more beautiful than you, but none more desirable. I wonder why that is.'"

I wonder why it is she didn't sock him in the nose. What a thing to say when you're naked. But she just smiles.

What a clod. The book almost flew across the room right then. ( )