They called them the Orchid Girls. Grace. Molly. Charlotte. One of them is in love. One of them is a liar. One of them is dead. On a jagged Dorset cliff, wind whipping their hair, waves crashing on the rocks below, three friends became two when Charlotte’s body was pulled out of the sea. Fifteen years later Grace and Molly are worlds apart. Grace has a glittering career and a loving husband. Molly is a lonely, unemployed alcoholic. Grace has everything to lose. Molly has nothing.

Today–with just one month until Tom is to be declared legally dead–Rachel receives a note in handwriting she recognizes with dread: My darling, I’ve missed you so much. Give me a chance to explain. I’m coming home. The husband she’d lost is alive. And so are all his secrets....

My darling little boy Albie adores playing at our new neighbours’ house. And after the terrible year we’ve had, I feel so lucky that we can start over in this perfect place, with new friends who treat Albie like the son they never had. He can’t stop talking about the tree house they’re building him, and the cookies they bake together. But as time passes, something starts to feel wrong. Why don’t they ever open the front door more than a crack? They told me they had no children so who does the small pink tricycle I saw in their hall belong to?

Moving to Prospect Close has been everything I’d hoped for. In the city, Oliver and I barely saw each other, irritable at home and rushing around after the kids. But here, the neighbors have been so friendly and welcoming, and we’re now at barbeques and playdates every weekend, all together, as a family. It’s the type of life I always dreamed of. One that’s a million miles from...before. Not that Oliver would know anything about that.

The letter is addressed to me. No stamp, swirly handwriting in black ink. I pull out a piece of paper, stiffening when I read the message. Hands trembling, the note slides to the floor: Your husband is having an affair. Six words written in neat block letters. Six words slipped through her letterbox, destroying her marriage, exposing Ella’s perfect life as perfect lies. But Ella has a plan: Alice is the answer to her problems. A lodger to help keep her afloat, a friend to keep the loneliness at bay. Only Alice has her own reasons for wanting to live at 46 Heath Street....

The perfect neighborhood can be the perfect place to hide… Who wouldn’t want to live in Brighton Hills? This exclusive community on the Oregon coast is the perfect mix of luxury and natural beauty. Stunning houses nestle beneath mighty Douglas firs, and lush backyards roll down to the lakefront. It’s the kind of place where neighbors look out for one another. Sometimes a little too closely…

After twenty years apart, Matthew and Helena have rekindled their college romance and are away in Iceland on their first holiday together. Swept up in the romance on a mountain hike, one moment they are taking the perfect photo, the next Helena is hanging from the cliff edge…

Twenty years after a baby is stolen from a stroller, a woman is murdered in a care home. The two crimes are somehow linked, and a good bad girl may be the key to discovering the truth. Edith may have been tricked into a nursing home, but at eighty-years-young, she’s planning her escape. Patience works there, cleaning messes and bonding with Edith, a kindred spirit. But Patience is lying to Edith about almost everything. Edith’s own daughter, Clio, won’t speak to her. And someone new is about to knock on Clio’s door…and their intentions aren’t good.

Joanne knows how lucky she is—Richard is a wonderful husband, Evie is the most gorgeous baby girl, they live in a beautiful house—life couldn't be better. But then Richard's twenty-year-old daughter Chloe turns up. Chloe hasn’t spoken to her father since the day he married Joanne two years ago. But with the arrival of her baby sister Evie, Chloe wants to make peace. Richard is delighted, and since Joanne is struggling with the new baby, he suggests Chloe could move in and help.

Erika Cass has a perfect family and a perfect life. Until the evening when two detectives show up at her front door. A high school girl has vanished from Erika's quiet suburban neighborhood. The police suspect the worst - murder. And Erika's teenage son, Liam, was the last person to see the girl alive. Erika has always sensed something dark and disturbed in her seemingly perfect older child. She wants to believe he's innocent, but as the evidence mounts, she can't deny the truth - Liam may have done the unthinkable.

Before moving in with the Crouch family, Juno thought Winnie and her husband, Nigel, had the perfect marriage, the perfect son — the perfect life. Only now that she’s living in their beautiful house, she sees the cracks in the crumbling facade are too deep to ignore. Still, she isn’t one to judge. After her grim diagnosis, the retired therapist simply wants a place to live out the rest of her days in peace. But that peace is shattered the day Juno overhears a chilling conversation between Winnie and Nigel....

On the day of Lucas Martin’s funeral, his wife, Naomi, learns he was hiding a devastating secret. One that may have cost him his life. When two strangers approach her, Naomi realizes they could be hiding important clues as to what actually happened the day her husband died. Was it an accident? Or something more sinister? Determined to learn the truth, Naomi initiates another meeting with the strangers, in hopes that she’ll uncover the missing puzzle piece from the mysterious last day of her husband’s life.

When Emily applies to a job as a housekeeper for widower Rupert, it’s a chance to start over: a steady job and regular money means she can work towards her own place, not sharing a grimy flat with old mate Mags. As Emily gets to know more about Rupert’s world - how he likes his supper when he comes in from work, who his friends are - she can make sure everything runs like clockwork for him. Soon there’s a spark between them; Rupert likes Emily and invites her to stay. For good. To the outside world, they really seem to be a perfect match.

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.'

It’s the phone call every mother dreads. I’m climbing into the car after a trip to the grocery store. As the engine starts, my phone rings. It’s my stepdaughter, Shelby, who is babysitting my three-year-old Millie. "I only went upstairs for a second," she says through her sobs. "She’s gone." When the police turn up, Shelby’s story starts to unravel. What is she hiding? Then I get a message saying, "Your husband is not who you think he is." Suddenly, my family feel like strangers. Everyone has a secret - even me.