He Said He Would Be Late

In Sullivan’s diverting debut, a novel of domestic suspense, sleep-deprived novelist and newish mom Liz Bennett knows she should cut herself some slack—about lingering baby weight, less than Kardashian-level grooming, in fact the whole Pandora’s box of perennial self-doubts—while adjusting to the recent tectonic shifts in her life. Then she accidentally sees a flirty-sounding text on husband Arno’s phone from one of his hedge fund coworkers, sending her into high infidelity alert. And once subsequent social media sleuthing reveals the sender of the text to be Vivienne Wood, a gorgeous Harvard Business School MBA, Liz, whose sardonic narration may be the book’s greatest charm, starts to channel her considerable creativity into what approaches full-on stalking. Admittedly prone to what her therapist labels “catastrophizing,” Liz habitually puts the most damning spin on any hint the dashing Arno might indeed be straying while discounting evidence of his love, such as convincing her to agree to a nanny so that she can focus on her second novel. Though the twisty, if at times leisurely, plot may disappoint thriller fans expecting someone to turn up dead, the more romance-inclined should find this just their cup of chai. (Mar.)