Huh?

This book starts out as a struggling author's Hail Mary attempt to resurrect her sagging career by ghostwriting a book for a scion of business. She is confused by the fact that the handsome "People's Sexiest Man Alive" has hand-picked her for the project . . . why? Well, turns out her first book was a modern take on Rebecca, by Daphne DuMaurier, and said sexyman is convinced that DuMaurier actually stole the story from his grandmother. Convoluted, but still somewhat understandable, right? It takes on a definite house of mirrors feel as you read along and try to figure out what is now, then, or imagination, and I realized I didn't really care at all and was resigned to just bump along until I found my way out of that meaningless reflection.