Documentary filmmaker Catherine Ravenscroft has just moved into a new house with her husband, Robert. It's here that she finds a novel by her bedside that she didn't put there nor did she buy. As she reads on, she realizes that this is her story, her secret - a secret that only one other person knew about, and that person is dead. But things didn't quite happen the way the book portrays and Catherine's life turns into a nightmare as she is forced to travel back twenty years and finally tell the story the way it really happened.
It started off okay, but I found myself impatient and irritated by how slow it was going. I had high hopes for this book, but was a little disappointed in it.
I loved this: I bite my fingernails to keep them short, spitting them out and leaving them where they stick, brittle and sharp around my desk. I am not a bloody circus performer, though: I can't do the same with my toenails.