My name is Jules Hooker. I have lived through a few crappy moments in my life--and with a name like Hooker, you can just imagine--but nothing, nothing, compares to the two intensely and world-shatteringly crappy things that happened to me this last June.Three, I guess, if you count Gilbert.After my boyfriend dumped me on the day I thought he was going to propose, I'd have to say two other really bad things happened last June. The first would have to be the dead body I discovered in the rental house in France where I went to get over being dumped. The second--and very possibly I should have led with this--was the dirty bomb that exploded over the Riviera throwing me and everyone else in France back to the 1950s.So now I'm stranded here--trying to make a living by solving murders the old fashioned way -- without help from DNA, databases, CSI crime labs or the police.And I'm doing it in France.Where I do not speak the language.During the apocalypse.Sound like fun?