Don't Let Him in - Softcover

Jewell, Lisa

 
9781668033883: Don't Let Him in

Inhaltsangabe

INSTANT #1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER

From #1 New York Times bestselling author Lisa Jewell, three women are connected by one man in this “gripping, shocking, masterful” (Freida McFadden, #1 New York Times bestselling author) thriller.

He’s the perfect man. It’s a perfect lie.

Nick Radcliffe is a man of substance and good taste. He’s exactly what newly widowed Nina Swann needs in her life. But to Nina’s adult daughter, Ash, Nick seems too slick, too polished, too good to be true. When Ash begins digging into his past, she finds a trail of unsettling coincidences.

Martha lives in a neighboring town with her infant daughter and devoted husband Alistair. But lately, Alistair has been traveling more and more frequently for work, disappearing for days at a time, and Martha can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right.

Nina, Martha, and Ash have no idea they are on a collision course with a shocking truth. And all three are about to wish they had heeded the same warning: Don’t let him in.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Lisa Jewell is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of twenty-four novels, including Don’t Let Him In, None of This Is True, The Family Upstairs, and Then She Was Gone, as well as Invisible Girl and Watching You. Her novels have sold more than fifteen million copies internationally, and her work has also been translated into over thirty languages. Connect with her on X @LisaJewellUK, on Instagram @LisaJewellUK, and on Facebook @LisaJewellOfficial.

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Chapter One: November

ONE NOVEMBER


The house is spectacular. A huge white stucco villa on three floors plus attic rooms, and a direct view of the sea visible through tall windows that frame the vista at the back and the front. I imagine that a wall must have been taken down at some point to offer up that level of open-plan space in a Victorian house. Steel beams put in. Expensive stuff. Just to give the owners more light and space. I feel an uncharacteristic twitch of jealousy. It’s not like me to envy others. I rarely, in fact, give a thought to them. But this is a different case altogether. I turn off the van’s engine and sit, just for a moment, readying myself. Through the window, on the other side of the house, I see the shadows of movement and as I pull on a baseball cap and open the driver’s door, I hear the muted murmur of chatter. There are four cars parked outside and clearly the day is still going strong. I go to the side of the van and pull open the door. There it is, my last delivery of the day: an extra-large bouquet of white hydrangeas and roses, no expense spared, in a pink bag. On the envelope is the inscription “Nina Swann & Family.”

I walk toward the front door, peering in subtly as I pass the kitchen window. A small group sits around the table, a mix of younger and older people. They all have wine, are dressed somberly. There is music playing, candles are flickering. I see art and photography and graphics on the walls; I see a designer kitchen in midnight blue and pink, with flashes of brass and copper, big globe light bulbs hanging at irregular intervals from golden chains, plants on shelves. Through a door at the back of the kitchen, I see huge velvet sofas, a mixing desk, a Gorillaz poster.

It’s the home of a Gen X man who has made good decisions, made a success of his life, piled his building blocks one on top of the other with precision and care. But also, the home of a man who made one really bad mistake that his wife and his family are going to pay for, over and over again.

I keep moving past the window and then I put my finger to the doorbell.

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