Her Dark Lies
J.T. Ellison
On Sale Date: March 9, 2021
9780778388302, 0778388301
Trade
Paperback
$16.99 USD, $21.99 CAD
Fiction
/ Thrillers / Domestic
416
pages
About the Book:
Fast-paced and brilliantly unpredictable, J.T. Ellison’s breathtaking
new novel invites you to a wedding none will forget—and some won’t survive.
Jutting
from sparkling turquoise waters off the Italian coast, Isle Isola is an idyllic
setting for a wedding. In the majestic cliff-top villa owned by the wealthy Compton
family, up-and-coming artist Claire Hunter will marry handsome, charming Jack
Compton, surrounded by close family, intimate friends…and a host of dark
secrets.
From the
moment Claire sets foot on the island, something seems amiss. Skeletal remains
have just been found. There are other, newer disturbances, too. Menacing texts.
A ruined wedding dress. And one troubling shadow hanging over Claire’s
otherwise blissful relationship—the strange mystery surrounding Jack’s first
wife.
Then a
raging storm descends, the power goes out—and the real terror begins…
Teaser Excerpt:
1
Beginnings and Endings
She is going to die tonight.
The white dress, long and filmy, hampers her effort
to run. The hem catches on a branch; a large rend in the fabric slashes open,
exposing her leg. A deep cut blooms red along her thigh, and the blood runs
down her calf. Her hair has come loose from its braid, flies unbound behind her
like gossamer wings.
In her panic, she barely notices the pain.
The path ahead is marked by
towering cypress and laurel, verdant and lush. A gray stone waist-high wall is
all that stands between her and the cliffside. It is cool inside this miniature
forest; the sky is blotted out by the purple-throated wisteria that drapes
across and between the trees. Someone, years ago, built an archway along the
arbor. The arch’s skeleton has long since rotted away and the flowers droop
into the path, clinging trails and vines that brush against her head and
shoulders. It should be beautiful; instead it feels oppressive, as if the vines might
animate, twist and curl around her neck and strangle her to death.
She tries
not to look down to the frothing water roiling against the rocks at the cliff’s
base. She thinks the ruins are to her right. From what she remembers, they are
between the church and the artists’ colony, the four cottages cowering on the
hillside, empty and waiting.
A horn
shrieks, and she realizes the ferry is pulling away. A crack of lightning, and
she sees the silhouette of the captain in the pilothouse, looking out to the
turbulent seas ahead. A gamble that he makes it before the storm is upon them.
Don’t panic. Don’t panic.
Where is the church?
There it is, a flash of white through the trees. The
stuccoed walls loom, the bell tower hidden behind the overgrown foliage. Now
the path is moving upward, the grade increasing. She feels it in her calves and
hopes again she is going the right way. The Villa is on the hill, on the
northwest promontory of the island. If she can reach its doors, she will be
safe.
It is too quiet. There are no birds, no creatures,
no buzzing or cries, just her ragged, heavy breath and the scree shuffling
underfoot as she climbs. The furious roar of the water smashing its
frustration against the rocks rises from her left, echoing against the
cliffside.
The dogs begin to howl.
Climb. Climb. Keep going.
She must get to the Villa. There she can call for
help. Lock herself inside. Maybe find a weapon.
A branch snaps and she halts, breathless.
Someone is coming.
She startles like a deer, now
heedless of the noise she’s making. Fighting back a whimper of fear, she breaks
free of the cloistered path to see an old decrepit staircase cut into the
stone. Careful, she must be cautious, there are gaps where some steps are missing,
and the rest are mossy with disuse, but hurry, hurry. Get away.
She winds
up the steps, clinging to the rock face, until she bursts free into a sea of
scrubby pines. Two sculptures, Janus twins, flank a slate-dark path into a
labyrinth of rhododendron and azalea.
This isn’t
right. Where is she?
A hard
breeze disrupts the trees around her, and a rumble of thunder like a thousand
drums rolls across her body. Lightning flashes and she sees the Villa in the
distance. So far away. On the other side of the labyrinth. The other side of
the hill.
She’s gone
the wrong way.
A droplet
of water hits her arm, then her forehead. Dread bubbles through her.
She is too
late. The storm is upon her.
The howls
of the dogs draw closer. The wind whistles hard and sharp, buffeting her
against the stone wall. She can’t move, deep fear cementing her feet. Rain
makes the gauzy dress cling to the curves of her body, and the blood on her
thigh washes to the ground. None of it matters. She cannot escape.
When he
comes, at last, sauntering through the storm, the barking beasts leaping and
growling beside him, she is crying, clinging to the wall, the lightning
illuminating the ruins; the ancient stones and stark, headless statues the only
witness to her death.
She goes
over the wall with a thunder-drowned scream, the jagged rocks below her final
companions.
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About the Author:
J.T.
Ellison is the New York Times and USA
Today bestselling author of more than 25 novels, and the EMMY® award winning
co-host of the literary show A WORD ON WORDS. With millions of books in print,
her work has won critical acclaim, prestigious awards, and has been published
in 28 countries. She lives in Nashville with her husband and twin kittens.
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