When her husband goes missing, Marissa Creighton fears the worst. Tell me you trust me was the last thing Ethan said to her, and she’d shrugged it off. Now she can’t get those words out of her head. Marissa’s family has always been her rock. But when they come to help her with eighteen-month-old Logan, their overprotectiveness borders on oppression—occupational hazard of the family’s surveillance business, or is it? Seeking comfort in the playlist she and Ethan share, Marissa is shocked to find a new song there: “Trust Me.” She’s certain it’s a message.

I haven’t slept properly since Riley was born. I love my baby so much–every noise he makes and every sleepy blink has me rushing to his side to make sure he’s safe. Yet the lack of sleep is getting to me. There are terrifying blanks in my memory, and my temper is blindingly short. I can’t rely on my partner–I don’t even know where he is half the time. But at least I have Maggie next door. She tells me this is just what new motherhood is like, so I have no choice but to ignore the blackout rages and blurred vision, for Riley’s sake…

They found my body in a wooded area near my home. When my sister, Sarah, returns to our small town, she's determined to find out who killed me. It's not easy though when everyone in Pinewood Springs has their secrets. The one who ended my life is lurking, watching her every move, and will stop at nothing to protect themselves from being revealed. As she untangles the lies and deceit around her, Sarah gets closer to the truth, and to grave danger. But all I can do is watch.

When renowned anonymous author J. R. Alastor hires former aspiring writer Mila del Angél to host a writing retreat at his private manor off the coast of Maine, she jumps at the chance—particularly since she has an axe to grind with one of the invitees. The guest list? Six thriller authors, all masters of deceit, misdirection, and mayhem. Alastor and Mila have masterminded a week of games, trope-fueled riddles, and maybe a jump scare or two—the perfect cover for Mila to plot a murder of her own.

“Okay sweetheart,” I whisper, giving my little girl Alice a final kiss. “Now remember, after I’ve locked the door, be quiet like a mouse. I’ll come back later, I promise.” Her little face crumples as I turn to leave and my heart breaks. But I have no choice. I have to work, and I have to keep her hidden. It’s just ten days until the new hotel opens. As I push my cleaning cart into the chandeliered honeymoon suite, I wonder how it would feel to stay here as a guest. To watch the sun rise over the ocean, to fall asleep with no fear. I’ll never know, of course.