Gwen, in Green become a personal favorite, Hugh Zachary's umpteenth novel The Revenant (Onyx, Aug 1988) is a respectable addition to the haunted house pantheon. The esteemed illustrator Richard Newton provides the stunning skull cover art, which perfectly illustrates the terrors within (while he is not credited on the copyright page, you can spy part of his signature just under "Zachary" on the dead soldier's collar). A top-tier paperback cover, thanks to its fine detail and delicate depiction of teeth and bone and hair. Only his hate and desire for vengeance were strong...
Hell House (1971) or The House Next Door (1978). I'd say the tone is more akin to something to Eighties movies like Poltergeist or House: there are spooky/scary scenes to be sure, but tempered by Zachary's good-natured style. And unlike the aforementioned Gwen, in Green, which was rife with sexual exploit, The Revenant is about as spicy as a vintage television commercial, coyly "fading to black" whenever the adults close the bedroom door. Jean got into the shower with Vance and washed his back—among other things—and for about thirty minutes forgot about ghosts...
for my taste at the end, with the psychic family friend arriving to
spiritual assist as an amateur exorcist, well-worn Bible in her hand.
Even though he's dealing in basic tropes of pulp haunted house horror,
Zachary's prose, honed by decades of writing fiction of all stripes, is
fresh, familiar, convincing. He keeps things lively right to the end.
And while you'll run into a dated notion more than once—I suppose the
marital politics aren't exactly progressive, he's like your granddad,
isn't he?—he never devolves into crudity or idiocy, like so many other
paperback horror originals.