I stand at the front door and meticulously check my reflection in the glass. I must look perfect to meet Lou's new boyfriend. I haven't been invited but best friends don't require invitations, right? Her presence has always been a constant, demanding focus in my life. Now, however, it's evolving into something deeper, with unsettling imitations and intrusive encroachments into every aspect of my world. The struggle to create distance only seems to intensify Donna's attachment, Pulling her dangerously closer.

Every time I turn the corner towards home, I yearn for Ed to have returned. But he’s not coming back. The man I thought was my forever has been living a lie with me since the moment we met. I’m sick of hearing his voicemail message. I’m even more sick of the unanswered texts. He’s left me completely in the dark and I can’t even give our kids an answer to their never-ending question, ‘When’s Daddy coming back?’

Sunny afternoons are the worst for a recovering alcoholic. But I’m doing OK and I’m proud of myself. I stretch out on my sun lounger with my book, basking in the peace before I have to collect my son from school. Then the gate rattles. It’s the police and judging by their expressions, they’re not here with good news. As I face the two officers, I try to dismiss what they’re telling me. My husband, Rob, can’t possibly be dead—I only saw him this morning. Besides, he’s the safest cyclist I know and would never put himself at risk.

Beautiful, bright-eyed Michelle Jackson, a loving wife and mother, has been killed. Her husband Paul is accused of murdering her. Their little girl Emily, numb with grief, is refusing to speak. You’ll hate Paul for what he’s done. Everyone said they were the perfect couple, always holding hands. They did everything together. But when you hear about their whispered arguments and the terrible lies they both told, you’ll be certain Paul is guilty. But everything you think you know is wrong. After all, behind closed doors every marriage has secrets. And some are deadlier than others.

The moment she sees Caitlyn, wearing her ‘bride-to-be’ sash and brimming with excitement, it hits her. She hates Caitlyn. She knows who she is – what she’s really hiding. And the temptation to do something about it is too strong to resist… It sickens me, the way they all think she’s so perfect. I plaster a fake smile on my face – all I have to do is pretend I’m enjoying the next few days. It shouldn’t be so hard. After all, I’ve been lying for years.

Lori once lived the perfect life with her husband Howie and their teenage daughter Molly—until the day Howie left for work and vanished without a trace. Haunted by her loss, Lori, a former investigative journalist, retreated from the city to rural isolation to become an author, seeking solace in the company of her beloved dogs. However, Lori's ordered, solitary existence is about to be turned upside down. As Frankie Evans, the man she helped convict for murder, has walked out of prison a free man. And he is intent on finding her.

Leah and her three best friends get changed into their pyjamas, eat pizza, and argue about what film to watch. They laugh together, until the early hours. But the next morning, Leah blinks open her eyes and sees three empty sleeping bags. The other girls are gone. Twenty years later. In her small hometown, still-haunted Leah has never been able to shake off the rumours and whispers. How could she have slept through it all? She must know what happened.

Long blonde hair. Sparkling dark eyes. Perfect pearly white teeth. I’ve never met her before, but I know exactly who she is as I spot her through the crowds of the terminal. Because our new guest is the spitting image of the daughter we lost. And that’s exactly why I chose her.

It was Beth Katz’s serial killer father who made her like she is: a successful FBI agent and an unstoppable vigilante dedicated to hunting down murderers who have evaded capture. Beth will push herself to the limits to deliver justice. Even if it means killing those who deserve to die.

Of course, I’m not going to murder her in the night. I need my laptop back first. That’s the whole point of making friends with Emily Harper, author of the hugely successful novel Diary of an Octopus. So I could get into her apartment and take back what’s mine. Emily doesn’t know who I really am. She thinks I’m her biggest fan, her new best friend who happens to need a place to stay for a few days. She doesn’t realize the laptop she found—and took—from a busy airport almost two years ago was mine. I don’t care about the laptop, just what's on it: my diary.

Every family has secrets, and on the hottest day of the year, the truth is about to come out. As a tragedy unfolds behind closed doors, the dawn chorus is split by the wail of sirens. And one by one the families who tried so hard to welcome the Wests begin to realise: Hogarth Street will never be the same again.

I gaze at my new husband and smile. It’s our wedding day and I feel like the luckiest woman alive. Lucas is perfect. He brings me coffee in the morning, flowers in the evening, and never leaves the room without a kiss.

When the body of a woman is found hanging from a tree in her front garden, rookie Detective Morgan Brookes is first on the scene. But Olivia Potter is past saving. And when her husband and daughters cannot be traced, Morgan knows there is more to this tragedy. And then she finds them. Lying huddled together in the dark basement, each of their faces covered with a small cotton cloth, their bodies cold to the touch. But as Morgan kneels beside the family, she realizes that one of the girls is still breathing.

Sean pulls me to him, and we both laugh happily, as we stroll home from our favorite wine bar. It’s our first evening out since our baby girl was born. I’ve only thought about Kitty a couple of times, wondering if she’s settled without my goodnight kiss. But our perfect night is shattered when I see the police car and the two officers on the front steps of our home....

The doorbell rings, just days after my beloved husband’s sudden death. I don’t recognise the woman on our doorstep, with her blonde highlights, a diamond bracelet identical to my own and a bouncing baby boy in her arms. As I show her inside, I notice her eyes grow wide as she takes in our spacious hallway, and the big squashy sofas that we all used to pile on. She glances at the silver-framed family photos and my little daughter hiding behind my skirts. She looks at me, her blue eyes serious. ‘I’m sorry’ she says. ‘I am your husband’s girlfriend. And this is his son.'