The Raccoons Have Tenant Rights. My Husband Doesn't

She let his mistress redecorate the apartment. She just never mentioned she owned the building.

Daniella Bryant comes home to find a man removing her front door, a pit where her living room used to be, and her husband's decorator on a ladder explaining that the room was holding grief. The room was holding a Steinway. She takes the point.

What her husband doesn't know, as he trades her in for a woman with a migrating accent and a hairless dog she calls her creative director, is that Daniella quietly controls the co-op boards of the twelve best buildings in Manhattan. She is, for all practical purposes, the woman who decides who gets to live here.

So she doesn't stop the renovation. She helps. She signs off on the one paint on earth that can never be removed. She smiles through an engagement party staged over a flooding pit. And when four raccoons move in and the board formally rules them tenants in quiet enjoyment of the premises, she makes sure the minutes reflect it.

The raccoons have tenant rights. Her husband is about to find out he doesn't.

A laugh-out-loud, closed-door revenge comedy about the pettiest possible way to take everything back, plus the one man in the city who would rather watch her win than rescue her. HEA, no cliffhanger.

Book 1 of Wives In Their Petty Era: four wives, four cheating husbands, one very stupid pact, and a city about to change hands.