Verwandte Artikel zu All the Wrong Places

All the Wrong Places - Softcover

Fielding, Joy

 
9780385696678: All the Wrong Places
Softcover
ISBN 10: 0385696671 ISBN 13: 9780385696678
Verlag: Anchor Canada, 2021

Inhaltsangabe

National Bestseller

Four women--friends, family, rivals--turn to online dating for companionship, only to run afoul of a tech-savvy killer using an app to target his victims in this thriller from New York Times bestselling author Joy Fielding.

A husband's death, a difficult divorce, a brutal dumping, dissatisfaction with a boring relationship: for various reasons, four women turn to the app "Mr. Right Now," hoping to right-swipe their way to love and happiness.

Paige and Heather are cousins, locked in a lifelong rivalry that recently culminated in Heather taking Paige's boyfriend for herself, although now Heather isn't quite sure she wants him. Paige's mother, Joan, is trying to get back on her feet after the death of the love of her life two years ago. And Paige's longtime friend, Chloe, is trying to replace an abusive ex-husband as soon as the divorce papers are signed.

Together, the women are navigating the choppy waters of online dating, until one of them unwittingly makes a date with a killer, starting the clock on a race to save her life. Joy Fielding has written a complex, electrifying thriller about friendship, jealousy and passion--a deadly combination.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

JOY FIELDING is the New York Times bestselling author of The Bad Daughter, She's Not There, Someone Is Watching, Charley's Web, Heartstopper, Mad River Road, See Jane Run, The Bad Daughter, and other acclaimed novels. She divides her time between Toronto and Palm Beach, Florida.

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Chapter One

“So, tell me about yourself,” he says. He smiles what he hopes is a sweet smile—neither too big nor too small, one that hints at a wry, maybe even offbeat sense of humor that he thinks would appeal to her. He wants to charm her. He wants her to like him.

The young woman sitting across from him at the immaculately set table for two hesitates. When she speaks, her voice is soft, tremulous. “What do you want to know?”

She is beautiful: late twenties, porcelain skin, deep blue eyes, long brown hair, just the right amount of visible cleavage. Exactly as advertised, which isn’t always the case. Usually the photos they post are a few years old, the women themselves older still. “Well, for starters, why a dating app? I mean, you’re gorgeous. I can’t imagine you’d have any trouble meeting guys, especially in a city like Boston.”

She hesitates again. She’s shy, thoughtful as opposed to self-absorbed. Something else he likes. “I just thought it would be fun,” she admits. “All my friends are on them. And I’ve kind of been out of the dating scene for a while . . .”

“You had a boyfriend?”

She nods. “We broke up about four months ago.”

“You broke up with him?”

“Actually, no. He broke up with me.”

He laughs. “I find that hard to believe.”

“He said he wasn’t ready to be tied down,” she offers without prompting. Her eyes fill with tears. Several escape without warning, clinging to her bottom lashes.

Instinctively he reaches across the table to wipe them away, careful not to disturb her mascara. “You miss him,” he says.

“No,” she says quickly. “Not really. It’s just hard sometimes. It’s more being part of a couple I miss, our friends . . .”

“Were you together long?”

“A little over a year. What about you?”

He smiles. She’s trying, he thinks. Even though he can see her heart isn’t really in it. Still, some women never even think to ask. “Me? No. It’s been a while since I’ve been in a serious relationship. But we were talking about you.”

She looks toward her plate. She hasn’t touched her food, and he spent hours preparing it, letting the expensive steaks marinate all afternoon, wrapping the large Idaho potatoes in tinfoil for baking, arranging the watermelon and feta cheese salad just so on the delicate floral china, wanting to impress her. Maybe she’s a vegetarian, he thinks, although there was nothing on her profile to indicate that.

He should have asked when he suggested dinner. “Tell me about your childhood,” he says now.

She looks surprised. “My childhood?”

“I’m assuming you had one.” Again, the sweet smile hinting at greater depths.

“It was pretty ordinary. Nothing much to tell.”

“I’m guessing upper middle class,” he offers, hoping to stimulate the conversation. “Comfortable lifestyle, maybe a nanny or a housekeeper, parents who loved you, made sure you had everything your little heart desired.”

“Not really. Well, maybe at first,” she agrees tentatively. “Until I was about six and my parents got divorced. Then everything changed.”

“How so?”

“We had to move. My mom had to go back to work. My dad remarried a woman we didn’t like. We were always being shuffled back and forth.”

“We?”

“My brothers and I.”

“I like that you say ‘I,’ ” he interrupts. “Most people would say ‘me.’ They have no respect for grammar. Or maybe they just don’t know the difference between the subject and the object of a sentence. I don’t know.” He shrugs, sensing her mounting discomfort. Not everyone is as concerned with grammar as he is. “How many brothers do you have?” he asks, aiming for safer ground.

“Two. One’s in New York. The other one’s in L.A.”

“And your mom? Where is she?”

“Here. In Boston.”

“Does she know where you are tonight? Well, how could she?” he asks, answering one question with another. “Don’t think she’d approve of your agreeing to have dinner in a stranger’s apartment, would she? Are you always this adventurous?” He cocks his head to one side, a gesture some have called charming, and waits for her response.

Another hesitation. “No.”

“Should I be flattered? ’Cause I’m feeling kind of flattered here, I gotta admit.”

She blushes, although whether the sudden redness in her cheeks is from embarrassment or anticipation, he isn’t sure.

“Is it because I’m so good-looking?” He says this playfully, accompanied by yet another smile, his sweetest one so far, and although she doesn’t respond, he knows he’s right. He is that good-looking. (“Pretty boy,” his father used to sneer.) Much better-looking than the picture he posted on the dating site, which in truth isn’t a picture of him at all, just some shirtless model with handsomely generic features and washboard abs whose photograph he saw in a Men’s Health magazine.

Good-looking enough to make a woman silence the nagging voice in her head warning her to beware, to follow him out of the crowded bar where they’d agreed to meet and go with him to his apartment near Sargent’s Wharf, where he’s promised a gourmet feast.

“You’re not eating,” he says. “Is the steak too rare for you?”

“No. I just can’t . . .”

“Please. You have to at least try it.” He cuts a piece of meat from his own plate and extends his fork across the table toward her mouth. “Please,” he says again, as blood drips from the steak to stain the white tablecloth.

She opens her mouth to receive the almost raw piece of meat.

“Chew carefully,” he advises. “Wouldn’t want you to choke.”

“Please . . .” she says, as the cellphone in his pocket rings.

“Hold on. I’ll just be a minute.” He removes the phone from his pocket and swipes its thin face from left to right, then lifts it to his ear. “Well, hello there,” he says, lowering his voice seductively, his lips grazing the phone’s smooth surface. Finally, he thinks.

“Hi,” the woman on the other end of the line responds. “Is this . . . Mr. Right Now?” She giggles and he laughs. Mr. Right Now is the name he goes by on the multiple dating sites to which he subscribes.

“It is. Is this . . . Wildflower?”

“It is,” she says, more than a trace self-consciously, not as comfortable with pseudonyms as he is.

“Well, Wildflower,” he says. “I’m so glad you called.” He’s been anticipating this moment for what feels like forever.

“Are you still in Florida?” she asks. “Is this a bad time?”

“No. It’s perfect. I just got back into town about an hour ago.”

“How’s your mother?”

“Much better. Thanks for asking. How are you?”

“Me? I’m fine.” She hesitates. “I was thinking maybe you were right, that it’s time we give this another try.”

“No maybes about it,” he says, eager to nail her down. “At...

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Verlag
Anchor Canada
Erscheinungsdatum
2021
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0385696671
ISBN 13 
9780385696678
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
400
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Verantwortliche Person
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