I keep getting the sense of being watched. But when I glance up, it’s not by the person I want it to be. Dale’s always busy doing something else. Really, I must have the most unromantic partner on the planet. Or so I thought. For Dale has prepared a Valentine’s Day surprise, and I don’t need asking twice to follow the clues I’ve found. I find my way to the remote cottage he’s booked, gobsmacked as I respond to his written instruction to enter.

Talia Kemper is on death row for murdering her husband. She had an alibi and no known motive, yet Talia’s unwavering protestations of innocence have always been ignored. Then one day in the visiting area, she sees a recognizable stranger she’s certain is her husband. It turns out the man she’s been convicted of killing may not be dead after all. But as the days tick away toward Talia’s execution, what will it take for her to be believed?

How well do you really know your own family? The wife: Eve is desperate for her life to be perfect. Living in a beautiful house, with gorgeous views of the countryside, is all she’s ever wanted. And she’ll do whatever it takes to hold onto her dream life. The son: Joe is a model student; he never puts a foot wrong. He knows his mother wouldn’t tolerate it. Until the night of his sixteenth birthday party, when things go horribly wrong and someone in the house is left fighting for their life. As the blue flashing lights of the police and ambulance arrive, all eyes are on the Griffiths family.

The moment she sees Caitlyn, wearing her ‘bride-to-be’ sash and brimming with excitement, it hits her. She hates Caitlyn. She knows who she is – what she’s really hiding. And the temptation to do something about it is too strong to resist… It sickens me, the way they all think she’s so perfect. I plaster a fake smile on my face – all I have to do is pretend I’m enjoying the next few days. It shouldn’t be so hard. After all, I’ve been lying for years.

Sunny afternoons are the worst for a recovering alcoholic. But I’m doing OK and I’m proud of myself. I stretch out on my sun lounger with my book, basking in the peace before I have to collect my son from school. Then the gate rattles. It’s the police and judging by their expressions, they’re not here with good news. As I face the two officers, I try to dismiss what they’re telling me. My husband, Rob, can’t possibly be dead—I only saw him this morning. Besides, he’s the safest cyclist I know and would never put himself at risk.