The Book Club

The Maple Glen Literary Circle has met on the first Thursday of every month for eleven years. In that time, not one member has finished a book.

Then Peg Walsh pulls a water-stained green novel out of a box of canned peaches at an estate sale. The Widow of Marrowgate Hall was printed in 1891, smells like cinnamon and a damp cellar, and has a thirteenth chapter that is blank. By the end of the first week, it has started rewriting itself to match each member's life: their secrets, their search histories, even the things they said out loud when they thought nobody was listening.

Walter, who only ever came to the brisket meeting, is the first to read his own chapter. He does not get to finish it. The recliner sees to that.

Now Denise, the club's iron-fisted chair, has a seating chart that includes a dead man, a clipboard full of terrible ideas, and a front door that will not open until she formally adjourns. Priya has built a spreadsheet. Tonya has a podcast and a promise she should never have made. Gary has been told, by a book, that he is expected. And the final chapter ends badly for whoever reads it last.

Can a suburban book club survive its own reading list? All they need is a plan, a quorum, and a very good set of bylaws.

Perfect for fans of cozy horror, suburban satire and dinner parties that go terribly, terribly wrong.