Joined in 2023 
82 
63 About this deal
The breeze fans past Nalika, and I catch her fruity hair-salon scent again. “Let’s talk about you for a change.” Trouble likes her. I might have said she likes trouble, but I feel it’s the other way round. As if there’s metal inside her body she doesn’t know about, drawing in the cold, the sharp, things that can cut. She’s so unaware of eyes on her face. Of what’s behind. No idea I was close enough to touch her hair. Hm” what? I want to say. But it was only a faint sound deep in his throat. I’ve heard it before. When he’s thinking, when there are furrows in his brow.
Tess.” Nalika touches my arm. She’s taken off her sunglasses, her deep-set eyes looking straight at me. “Is there any news? Any progress with the police?” It’s peculiar, the concept of B-and-B-ing. Letting strangers into your home, not knowing what they’re going to be like. The door closes behind you and you’re at the mercy of someone you know nothing about. They could do anything. The way the story unfolds is brilliant. I could feel Steph’s fear and confusion. I could feel her frustration when it seems everyone has an opinion about what she should with her life. I could feel her inner conflict debating if she’s making the right decisions. After 30 years of having someone make most of the decisions for you, it’s hard to trust yourself. These are very relatable issues with many people, and partly why I loved this character so much.
Rate And Review
Arran’s oil is behind, next to the balsamic vinegar and sweet chili sauce. I’m looking at the olive tree on the label when I notice that my olive oil’s not there. I had a liter bottle from Andalusia, and there was at least half left. Did Arran use it? Or throw it away? I pushed Nalika’s food down my throat. But I couldn’t taste any of it. Her restaurant-worthy meals were like cardboard. I flop onto the tarmac. Its hard surface presses into my bones. This is where I belong, on the ground in London late at night. Once, I sat in a park until four in the morning. People walked by, men glanced, one guy even shouted at me. As I start to put the phone away, the screen lights up with another notification. I swipe and something inside my rib cage clenches. New message from Oliver Barlow. I wait, listening, but there’s nothing. Probably just wood expanding, or a pipe. Sometimes I wonder if there are sounds inside my head.
Then strange things start happening in her home. Things that terrify her, but nothing so serious that the police can help with. At first, anyway. I stare at her. It’s been Nalika and Chris for five years. I thought they were going to get married. “When?” He wipes his hands on the towel. “Should let it cool down more, but I’m too impatient. Would you like some?” With their house now a crime scene, Kristin’s and Richard’s life spirals into nightmare. Kristin is unable to forgive her husband for his lapses in judgement, or for the moment he shared with a dark-haired girl in the guest room. But for the dark-haired girl, Alexandra, the danger is just beginning.
I reach a cluster of trees and stop beneath an oak. It’s old and knobby. Moss fuzzes round the base, a low branch curls out of the trunk beside me. The word CLIMB is carved into the bark above my head. I know this even though it’s too dark to see.
A gripping story about suburban American lives ripped apart. . . . Hard to put down, or ever forget.”— Minneapolis Star-Tribune I loved Steph,insecurities and all and the way she tried so hard to be happy after she lost everything,at times naive more often though just vulnerable she had no idea was was ‘afoot’ She was trying to fish out a bit of sunflower shell that had flown into her glass. Her finger kept pushing it round. “I can’t get it out.” Steph has lived an ordinary life with her two children and husband for thirty years, until jealousy tears her marriage apart and she's left with a life she doesn't know what to do with. Her children are grown; her son having left his family behind without a word, and her daughter who is enjoying a life of her own. Steph's only things to take care of anymore are herself and the people she works with.A flurry of stale air blows over my face. Hot wind is funneling through the open slits of windows as the train hurtles through the tunnel. That dry fume in my nose: diesel and dirt. I cough into my elbow. With their house now a crime scene, Kristin's and Richard’s life spirals into nightmare. Kristin is unable to forgive her husband for his lapses in judgement, or for the moment he shared with a dark-haired girl in the guest room. But for the dark-haired girl, Alexandra, the danger is just beginning. Put a vase of fresh flowers in the room. This will add a touch of elegance and make your guests feel welcome. I smile wryly. Luke’s a nice guy, for a city boy. And not your typical management consultant. A gym-goer and climber, sure, but he also writes poetry. So he claims.
Great Deal 
New Comment