After five years away from her hometown of Fawn Lake, Detective Freya Sinclair isn’t expecting a warm welcome from the people she’s sworn to protect. She became a detective to bring serial killers like her parents to justice, but the tight-knit North Carolinian community can’t see past her twisted roots. Minutes after stepping foot back home, the body of a dark-haired young girl is pulled from the river and Freya races to the scene.

Melody gazes across the rippling lake to the trees on the shore, waiting for her fiancé Evan to arrive so their family holiday can begin. Here in this cabin in a small Canadian island town, there’s so much space for their son to play. It’s going to be perfect–just like the first time Melody visited as a child. But then, a call from Evan shatters her world.

The day I was told I’d never be able to have a child, my world came crashing down. My husband says he still loves me, but I lie awake at night, wishing we could have a family. One morning, my husband’s side of the bed is cold and empty. I hear a noise and head downstairs. In the middle of the rug in my living room is a wooden drawer. Swaddled inside, with perfect rosy cheeks and beautiful round blue eyes, a baby gazes up at me.

I gaze across the candlelit table into the eyes of the man I love. It’s our anniversary dinner, a celebration of our marriage, of how far we’ve come. But within hours our romantic date has ended in murder… When I wake in a hospital bed, blinking under the blinding white lights, I hear someone saying there has been an accident. My heart misses a beat when I recognize my husband’s voice. He says I was driving the car. He says I’ve killed someone.

It’s my first day back at work, the grief I’m carrying is still with me, but I file it away and put on my professional face to greet my new patient. As a successful psychiatrist and criminologist, I’m used to working with damaged minds. But I’m not prepared for Trent Davis. Sitting across the table from me, his warm brown eyes shine. He laughs easily and part of me can't help but like him, despite what his file says he’s capable of. Then a package arrives for Trent, with my home as the return address. And everything falls apart…

Every Monday, I meet my writing group in a warm, lively bar to drink a glass of wine or two and share our work. It’s the highlight of my week. I don’t go out much, otherwise. For the last ten years, every time I’ve relaxed, the messages have started again. The black hearts. They’re a warning to remember, as if I could ever forget. Whoever sent them wants to hurt me. They’ve lost me jobs and boyfriends. Is it any wonder I like to hide in fiction?

Emma Wilson is running from a broken marriage after her life has been torn apart, and she’s desperate to start over. Escaping to a small Irish village, Emma begins working for seventy-five-year-old fashion enthusiast Judith McCarthy in her beautiful manor house at the heart of the tight-knit community. The quirky locals give Emma a warm welcome and, inspired by Judith’s passion for life, Emma hopes she can rebuild her life in this village by the sea.

My husband is lying. The minute he came home with alcohol on his breath and unable to look me in the eyes I knew it. We used to be in love–the intense ‘I can’t be without you for a second’ kind. Where it hurts deep to be apart. But now, we’re the couple that keep secrets from each other. We hide the truth. He thought I wouldn’t find out. I’m a detective–it’s literally my job to uncover clues and solve mysteries. I know what he did. And now I’m sitting here, in a police interview, being asked the question ‘did you kill her?’ to which I utter one life-shattering word: ‘yes.’

It feels like all the air has been knocked out of me. My best friend is dead, killed at her own daughter’s birthday party. All I want to do is run into my husband’s loving arms. But he’s in handcuffs, covered in her blood. His voice quivers, almost sobbing as officers put him in the police car. ‘You don’t think I did this, do you? I was trying to save her.’ At first, I’m sure he couldn’t have done it. The man I love wouldn’t hurt anyone. But as I try to prove that he didn’t murder Lucy, secrets begin unravelling…

What if the person lying to you is your husband, the man who claims to love you more than anything in the world? Isolated in his remote Scottish ancestral home on the pretext that you are psychologically fragile and recovering from a breakdown, this home has become a prison. As the days slip by in a haze of confusion and a cocktail of drugs administered by a loyal housekeeper, you begin to piece together the fragments of your life and stumble on a terrifying secret.

Ethan gently squeezes my hand as he slides the golden ring onto my finger. But I know we aren’t worthy of happiness. As I look down at my wedding ring, in a blistering flash, I suddenly remember another piece of that pitch-black, rainy night… but I try to focus on Ethan’s gorgeous blue eyes. I know exactly what he’s thinking. We can never tell. All our family, friends and loved ones smile as they watch Ethan and I promise to be together until death us do part. But only we know what that really means…Because we have already killed someone.

I stare at the messages between my husband Rob and another woman, their plans to run away together bringing tears to my eyes as I stand, trembling, in our luxurious apartment. I thought I had the perfect marriage. As our three beautiful children sleep soundly in the next room, I think about our family holidays, our romantic date nights, and the day Rob proposed to me. In the last few months, I haven’t complained about his late-night meetings or got jealous about his weekends away. I trusted my husband. But now I’m questioning everything.

I was so nervous about someone new joining our house share. After everything that happened with my parents, my friends are like my family. Our imperfect, but well-loved house is the only place where I can be myself. But when Poppy knocks on our door, blonde hair, wide eyes, and a friendly smile, we all agree she’s a perfect fit. I just wish I could shake the feeling that I’ve seen her before…

My hand trembles as I stare at the anonymous text. On this sunny Saturday morning, our twin ten-year-old boys were playing in the park just down our tree-lined street. But only one of them has come home… and it’s all my husband’s fault. I race to Leo’s study and demand answers. As his face turns white, I know: one of his affairs has turned deadly. I always smell the unfamiliar perfume on his shirt. I try to pretend we are a happy family, for the sake of the children… but now, my child is in terrible danger.

A bright and welcoming haven, the playgroup sits at the heart of the town, tucked away inside a red-brick building. The Nest should have been the safest place for my rosy-cheeked, pink-obsessed daughter, Florence. Run by mothers like me, I trusted my newfound friends–Alice, Beth and Georgie–to take care of my child. But now my choice has left Florence fighting for her life.