I dove into this pulse-pounding thriller with the kind of enthusiasm I reserve for an iced tea on a sweltering summer day, and let me tell you, it was a ride… bumpy in spots, but gosh, did it have me clutching my imaginary pearls! This book is like a Lowcountry breeze: sultry, mysterious, and just a tad unsettling. It’s not a perfect bloom, but it’s got enough twists to keep you flipping pages past bedtime.

We follow Claire Campbell, an investigative journalist who’s been running from her past faster than I flee from a spider in the bathtub. Twenty-two years ago, her older sister, Natalie, vanished, leaving behind a trail of blood in a car and a closed case that haunts Claire like a ghost in a Gothic novel. When a call from her dad drags her back to her childhood home in South Carolina, Claire’s forced to face the trauma she’s buried deeper than my attempts to hide my snack stash. With a summer looming in her estranged mother’s house (yikes), Claire impulsively takes a seasonal gig at Galloway Farm, a muscadine vineyard that sounds like it should come with a charcuterie board and a sunset view. But this ain’t no Hallmark movie. Galloway’s idyllic vibes hide dark secrets, and Claire’s digging unearths truths that make her question everything. It’s a slow-burn mystery with shocks that hit like a plot twist in a soap opera.

 

The coastal South Carolina backdrop is so vivid I could practically smell the marsh and hear the cicadas. It’s the kind of place I’d love to visit with a glass of sweet tea, minus the creepy secrets. The twists? Juicier than a Georgia peach in July! One reveal had me gasping louder than when I found out my favorite coffee shop discontinued my go-to latte. Willingham knows how to keep you guessing, and I was living for it. Claire’s inner monologue is sharp and relatable, with just enough wit to make me chuckle—like when she muses about her life falling apart faster than a cheap beach chair.

Here’s where I get a smidge snarky. The pacing drags in the middle, like waiting for my ancient laptop to load a webpage. I get it—slow burns need time to simmer—but I was ready for the pot to boil sooner. Some plot points felt predictable, like spotting a rom-com’s happy ending from a mile away.

Willingham’s ability to blend psychological suspense with Southern charm is like pairing a bold red wine with a spicy gumbo—it shouldn’t work, but it does. This book isn’t as shiny as A Flicker in the Dark (still her crown jewel, in my opinion), but it’s a solid addition to her thriller lineup. It’s readable, human, and perfect for anyone who loves a mystery with a side of sass.

If you’re a thriller fan with a soft spot for Southern vibes and jaw-dropping twists, grab this book, a cozy blanket, and maybe a glass of muscadine wine.

Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for the advance copy in exchange for my honest review. All opinions are mine, served with a wink and a smile.