Women's Fiction
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Angels Fall
#1 New York Times bestselling author Nora Roberts explores the wilds of the Grand Tetons-and the mysteries of love, murder, and madness-in this engrossing and passionate novel.
The sole survivor of a brutal crime back East, Reece Gilmore settles in Angel's Fall, Wyoming-temporarily, at least-and takes a job at a local diner. One day, while hiking in the mountains, she peers through her binoculars and sees a couple arguing on the bank of the churning Snake River. And suddenly, the man is on top of the woman, his hands around her throat...
By the time Reece reaches a gruff loner named Brody farther down the trail, the pair is gone. And when authorities comb the area where she saw the attack, they find no trace that anyone was even there.
No one in Angel's Fall seems to believe Reece-except Brody, despite his seeming impatience and desire to keep her at arm's length. When a series of menacing events makes it clear that someone wants her out of the way, Reece must put her trust in Brody-and herself-to find out if there is a killer in Angel's Fall, before it's too late.
The sole survivor of a brutal crime back East, Reece Gilmore settles in Angel's Fall, Wyoming-temporarily, at least-and takes a job at a local diner. One day, while hiking in the mountains, she peers through her binoculars and sees a couple arguing on the bank of the churning Snake River. And suddenly, the man is on top of the woman, his hands around her throat...
By the time Reece reaches a gruff loner named Brody farther down the trail, the pair is gone. And when authorities comb the area where she saw the attack, they find no trace that anyone was even there.
No one in Angel's Fall seems to believe Reece-except Brody, despite his seeming impatience and desire to keep her at arm's length. When a series of menacing events makes it clear that someone wants her out of the way, Reece must put her trust in Brody-and herself-to find out if there is a killer in Angel's Fall, before it's too late.
Editorial Reviews
Praise for Angels Fall
"Roberts gifts readers with a story that will keep you tossing aside bookmarks and flipping pages until you're done."-The Record (Bergen County, NJ)
"A great story…delightful characters."-The Oakland Press
"Irresistible and terrifically satisfying."-Booklist
"Exciting…Nora Roberts is at her very best in this great thriller."-Midwest Book Review
"The queen of romantic suspense doesn't disappoint readers."-The Columbus Dispatch (OH)
"Roberts' strengths are many, but richly defined characters are at the top. This story of the mental and emotional challenges faced by a damaged woman is wholly gripping, even more so because of the eerie psychological element. Add in murder, mystery and romance and you have a chart topper."-RT Book Reviews
"Roberts gifts readers with a story that will keep you tossing aside bookmarks and flipping pages until you're done."-The Record (Bergen County, NJ)
"A great story…delightful characters."-The Oakland Press
"Irresistible and terrifically satisfying."-Booklist
"Exciting…Nora Roberts is at her very best in this great thriller."-Midwest Book Review
"The queen of romantic suspense doesn't disappoint readers."-The Columbus Dispatch (OH)
"Roberts' strengths are many, but richly defined characters are at the top. This story of the mental and emotional challenges faced by a damaged woman is wholly gripping, even more so because of the eerie psychological element. Add in murder, mystery and romance and you have a chart topper."-RT Book Reviews
Readers Top Reviews
BobbiejC. K. Harrell
I am always amazed how Ms. Roberts can get inside the head of some of the most unlikely characters. Angels Fall is one of her better novels in my opinion. I almost couldn't put it down until I thought I knew who the villain was; then was totally surprised when I was proven wrong. Great Read!
Retta
Your imagination jumps right from the start. What is making Reece so secretive. And you jump into the mystery that is her. Brody is another puzzle! Curiosity is or was his stock and trade. Leave it to the grapevine to keep speculating and more drama than you can shake a stick at. Love the twists and turns. The mysterious dead woman and the man that strangled her. Another must read.
Trust the ultimate murder mystery writer to create Brody, a level-headed, analytical murder mystery writer to investigate the possible murder when the incompetent cops distrust everything Reese says about her" sighting". Why Brody helps her, why the town doctor isn't sure and why her temporary boss/landlady keeps Reece in Angel's Fist are what will keep your nose in this book right to the end when everything is turned upside down. It's one of Robert's best. The colorful Rocky Mountain denizens will keep you wondering who to trust.
Kindle
I read this book when it first came out. Somehow it got lost with all the rest and I forgot about it. This time around was like reading it for the first time. I was just as confused about who did it. When I re-read it again, and I most definitely will, I will know the ending but it will still be a great read.
Sheila M
FINAL DECISION: I haven’t read this book in decades so I had forgotten just about everything about this book. I quickly became absorbed by this story of a woman who recovers from a horrific event, witnesses a murder and begins to doubt her sanity which is definitely a romantic suspense with the emphasis on romance. THE STORY: Chance lands Reece Gilmore in Angel’s Fist, Wyoming when her car breaks down. She’s been wandering the country after a horrific event that sent her fleeing from Boston as she works to rebuild herself and her life. When she witnesses a murder, Reece struggles to get others to believe her when there is no evidence that it ever happened. The only man that Reese is sure is not the murderer is local writer Brody. The two get to know one another as Reece tries to find the truth about the murder. OPINION: I really enjoyed this book. It is a nice combination between the romance and the suspense portion for me because the story is heavy on the romance. Reece is a woman who is struggling to rebuild her life. The book really depicts her struggles and I especially like that through this crisis she still manages to build something for herself. Brody is a gruff hero, but I always like how he supports Reece despite all evidence to the contrary. Their relationship worked even apart from the suspense story. There is little more I can say about the plot because it works better the less a reader knows. The solution isn’t particularly novel, but I did think that the book did a good job leaving many possibilities open until the end. WORTH MENTIONING: There is a made for TV movie based on this book. CONNECTED BOOKS: ANGELS FALL is a standalone book. STAR RATING: I give this book 4.5 stars.
Short Excerpt Teaser
SIGNPOSTSEverywhere is nowhere.
-SENECA
1
REECE GILMORE smoked through the tough knuckles of Angel's Fist in an overheating Chevy Cavalier. She had two hundred forty-three dollars and change in her pocket, which might be enough to cure the Chevy, fuel it and herself. If luck was on her side, and the car wasn't seriously ill, she'd have enough to pay for a room for the night.
Then, even by the most optimistic calculations, she'd be broke.
She took the plumes of steam puffing out of the hood as a sign it was time to stop traveling for a while and find a job.
No worries, no problem, she told herself. The little Wyoming town huddled around the cold blue waters of a lake was as good as anywhere else. Maybe better. It had the openness she needed-all that sky with the snow-dipped peaks of the Tetons rising into it like sober, and somehow aloof, gods.
She'd been meandering her way toward them, through the Ansel Adams photograph of peaks and plains for hours. She hadn't had a clue where she'd end up when she started out that day before dawn, but she'd bypassed Cody, zipped through Dubois, and though she'd toyed with veering into Jackson, she dipped south instead.
So something must have been pulling her to this spot.
Over the past eight months, she'd developed a strong belief in following signs and impulses. Dangerous Curves, Slippery When Wet. It was nice that someone took the time and effort to post those kinds of warnings. Other signs might be a peculiar slant of sunlight aimed down a back road, or a weather vane pointing south.
If she liked the look of the light or the weather vane, she'd follow, until she found what seemed like the right place at the right time. She might settle in for a few weeks, or, like she had in South Dakota, a few months. Pick up some work, scout the area, then move on when those signs, those impulses, pointed in a new direction.
There was a freedom in the system she'd developed, and often-more often now-a lessening of the constant hum of anxiety in the back of her mind. These past months of living with herself, essentially by herself, had done more to smooth her out than the full year of therapy.
To be fair, she supposed the therapy had given her the base to face herself every single day. Every night. And all the hours between.
And here was another fresh start, another blank slate in the bunched fingers of Angel's Fist.
If nothing else, she'd take a few days to enjoy the lake, the mountains, and pick up enough money to get back on the road again. A place like this-the signpost had said the population was 623-probably ran to tourism, exploiting the scenery and the proximity to the national park.
There'd be at least one hotel, likely a couple of B and B's, maybe a dude ranch within a few miles. It might be fun to work at a dude ranch. All those places would need someone to fetch and carry and clean, especially now that the spring thaw was dulling the sharpest edge of winter.
But since her car was now sending out thicker, more desperate smoke signals, the first priority was a mechanic.
She eased her way along the road that ribboned around the long, wide lake. Patches of snow made dull white pools in the shade. The trees were still their wintering brown, but there were a few boats on the water. She could see a couple guys in windbreakers and caps in a white canoe, rowing right through the reflection of the mountains.
Across from the lake was what she decided was the business district. Gift shop, a little gallery. Bank, post office, she noted. Sheriff's office.
She angled away from the lake to pull the laboring car up to what looked like a big barn of a general store. There were a couple men in flannel shirts sitting out front in stout chairs that gave them a good view of the lake.
They nodded to her as she cut the engine and stepped out, then the one on the right tapped the brim of his blue cap that bore the name of the store-Mac's Mercantile and Grocery-across the crown.
"Looks like you got some trouble there, young lady."
"Sure does. Do you know anyone who can give me a hand with it?"
He laid his hands on his thighs and pushed out of the chair. He was burly in build, ruddy in face, with lines fanning out from the corners of friendly brown eyes. When he spoke, his voice was a slow, meandering drawl.
"Why don't we just pop the hood and take a look-see?"
"Appreciate it." When she released the latch, he tossed the hood up and stepped back from the clouds of smoke. For reasons she couldn't name, the plumes and the fuss caused Reece more embarrassment than anxiety. "It started up on me about ten miles east, I guess. I wasn't paying enough attention. Got caught up in the sc...
-SENECA
1
REECE GILMORE smoked through the tough knuckles of Angel's Fist in an overheating Chevy Cavalier. She had two hundred forty-three dollars and change in her pocket, which might be enough to cure the Chevy, fuel it and herself. If luck was on her side, and the car wasn't seriously ill, she'd have enough to pay for a room for the night.
Then, even by the most optimistic calculations, she'd be broke.
She took the plumes of steam puffing out of the hood as a sign it was time to stop traveling for a while and find a job.
No worries, no problem, she told herself. The little Wyoming town huddled around the cold blue waters of a lake was as good as anywhere else. Maybe better. It had the openness she needed-all that sky with the snow-dipped peaks of the Tetons rising into it like sober, and somehow aloof, gods.
She'd been meandering her way toward them, through the Ansel Adams photograph of peaks and plains for hours. She hadn't had a clue where she'd end up when she started out that day before dawn, but she'd bypassed Cody, zipped through Dubois, and though she'd toyed with veering into Jackson, she dipped south instead.
So something must have been pulling her to this spot.
Over the past eight months, she'd developed a strong belief in following signs and impulses. Dangerous Curves, Slippery When Wet. It was nice that someone took the time and effort to post those kinds of warnings. Other signs might be a peculiar slant of sunlight aimed down a back road, or a weather vane pointing south.
If she liked the look of the light or the weather vane, she'd follow, until she found what seemed like the right place at the right time. She might settle in for a few weeks, or, like she had in South Dakota, a few months. Pick up some work, scout the area, then move on when those signs, those impulses, pointed in a new direction.
There was a freedom in the system she'd developed, and often-more often now-a lessening of the constant hum of anxiety in the back of her mind. These past months of living with herself, essentially by herself, had done more to smooth her out than the full year of therapy.
To be fair, she supposed the therapy had given her the base to face herself every single day. Every night. And all the hours between.
And here was another fresh start, another blank slate in the bunched fingers of Angel's Fist.
If nothing else, she'd take a few days to enjoy the lake, the mountains, and pick up enough money to get back on the road again. A place like this-the signpost had said the population was 623-probably ran to tourism, exploiting the scenery and the proximity to the national park.
There'd be at least one hotel, likely a couple of B and B's, maybe a dude ranch within a few miles. It might be fun to work at a dude ranch. All those places would need someone to fetch and carry and clean, especially now that the spring thaw was dulling the sharpest edge of winter.
But since her car was now sending out thicker, more desperate smoke signals, the first priority was a mechanic.
She eased her way along the road that ribboned around the long, wide lake. Patches of snow made dull white pools in the shade. The trees were still their wintering brown, but there were a few boats on the water. She could see a couple guys in windbreakers and caps in a white canoe, rowing right through the reflection of the mountains.
Across from the lake was what she decided was the business district. Gift shop, a little gallery. Bank, post office, she noted. Sheriff's office.
She angled away from the lake to pull the laboring car up to what looked like a big barn of a general store. There were a couple men in flannel shirts sitting out front in stout chairs that gave them a good view of the lake.
They nodded to her as she cut the engine and stepped out, then the one on the right tapped the brim of his blue cap that bore the name of the store-Mac's Mercantile and Grocery-across the crown.
"Looks like you got some trouble there, young lady."
"Sure does. Do you know anyone who can give me a hand with it?"
He laid his hands on his thighs and pushed out of the chair. He was burly in build, ruddy in face, with lines fanning out from the corners of friendly brown eyes. When he spoke, his voice was a slow, meandering drawl.
"Why don't we just pop the hood and take a look-see?"
"Appreciate it." When she released the latch, he tossed the hood up and stepped back from the clouds of smoke. For reasons she couldn't name, the plumes and the fuss caused Reece more embarrassment than anxiety. "It started up on me about ten miles east, I guess. I wasn't paying enough attention. Got caught up in the sc...
