Awhile back I mentioned a work trip I took to Orlando and the ill-fated journey I made in search of a bookstore while there. My mission was simple. I had just finished the first book in Laura Lippman 's Tess Monaghan series and was in desperate need of the sequel(s) to last me my final night in Orlando and for the duration of my trip home. Even though I didn't have access to a car, it seemed a simple enough task. What follows still haunts me. (Cue scary music) Friday night, about 5:30pm I stop in at the hotel desk to ask for directions to the nearest bookstore. "A bookstore?" the clerk asks me blankly. "Yes, a bookstore," I say, nodding and smiling gamely. "You know, a Barnes & Noble, a Borders. Anything will do, really." "Um, no. I don't know of any bookstores in the area," she shakes her head several times. Shoving down the beginnings of panic, I press on. "Perhaps a smaller, independent bookstore?" "No, ma'a