Additional information
by Connie Briscoe (Author)
"Entertaining. . . . Briscoe folds some perceptive class critiques into her intoxicating blend of romance and suspense. This offers plenty of gothic pleasures."--Publishers Weekly
New York Times bestselling author Connie Briscoe updates Daphne Du Maurier's classic Rebecca in this chilling tale of domestic suspense centered on a spirited woman named Angel who marries a Black billionaire, only to discover that he remains haunted by his first wife who took her own life--or did she?
A mansion haunted by the ghost of a cool, charismatic first wife. A second bride from a small Southern town who may be in over her head. A brooding billionaire who grows icier the more his new wife questions him about the past.
In Connie Briscoe's propulsive and entertaining novel, the elements of one of the most famous Gothic novels of all time is reimagined in surprising, yet still suspenseful, ways.
Angel is a private chef for the Harrisons, one of the most powerful Black families on Martha's Vineyard. Impossibly supercilious Jillian Harrison often spends the entire summer on the island, and every August the family throws a lavish garden party. This year's guest list includes Everett Bruce, an influential Black billionaire still in mourning for Chloe, his first wife, who com-mitted suicide.
To Jillian's surprise, Bruce becomes enchanted with Angel. Soon he and Angel begin a whirlwind romance that culminates in marriage, and Angel moves to Riverwild, her husband's massive estate along the Poto-mac River.
Though Angel is a confident and strong woman, over time she begins to feel the enigmatic Chloe's ghost. Not helping matters is Ida, Everett's menacing sister who, like her brother, cannot seem to let the dead woman go, nor explain why Chloe would kill herself. The more questions Angel asks, the more vitriolic Ida grows and the more melancholic Everett becomes, reveal-ing a far less charming side of himself. Just how well does Angel know Everett?
The answers lie somewhere in Riverwild . . .
