Murder and laughter usually don’t mix, but Anya Wylde has a gift of making serious things utterly ridiculous and silly. I’ve read all of her books and they are slapstick funny and make me literally LOL (the only time that dumb acronym is accurate).
Her latest novel, Murder at Rudhall Manor is no different, except that there isn’t a romance in it per se (although I wouldn’t be surprised if one blossoms in a future book). This one is a little darker, dealing with murder, exotic pets, cruel aristocrats, and a helpless young nanny caught in the middle. Continue reading