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#1 New York Times bestselling author Nora Roberts weaves together passion and obsession, humor and heart, in a novel of two people opening themselves up to the truth—and to each other.
For more than three hundred years, Bluff House has sat above Whiskey Beach, guarding its shore—and its secrets. But to Eli Landon, it’s home.
A Boston lawyer, Eli has weathered an intense year of public scrutiny and police investigations after being accused of—but never arrested for—the murder of his soon-to-be ex-wife.
He finds sanctuary at Bluff House, even though his beloved grandmother is in Boston recuperating from a nasty fall. Abra Walsh is always there, though. Whiskey Beach’s resident housekeeper, yoga instructor, jewelry maker and massage therapist, Abra is a woman of many talents—including helping Eli take control of his life and clear his name. But as they become entangled in each other, they find themselves caught in a net that stretches back for centuries—one that has ensnared a man intent on reaping the rewards of destroying Eli Landon once and for all.
difference in her?” “I hope so.” “He’s not you.” “I don’t want him to be, but there are pieces. She’s not you, but . . . I’m pretty sure she’s going to wear orange-framed reading glasses.” She laughed. “My gift to your literary oeuvre. I can’t wait to read it, Eli, from start to finish.” “It’ll be a little while yet. I couldn’t have written that scene three months ago. I wouldn’t have believed it, and I couldn’t have felt it.” He walked to her. “You’ve given me more than
hands into things.” “We can take a deeper look.” “And spending some time up there might give you more ideas about how to use that space. I’m going to pick you up a paint fan.” “You are?” “Colors inspire.” “No,” he said after a moment, “I can’t keep up.” “With what?” “You.” Relief when he finally cruised through the village tempered with frustration. Love to radio stations, systematic searches to ambushes to paint fans. “How many directions can you go in at one time?”
her lover, or someone else she might’ve been involved with?” “He had a solid alibi. I didn’t.” “What’s so solid about it?” “He was home with his wife.” “Well, I read all that, heard all that, but his wife could be lying.” “Sure, but why? His wife, mortified and angry when she learned from the police he’d had this affair, with someone they both knew, reluctantly swore he’d been home since before six that evening. Their stories about the timeline, what they did, during the key
Maureen led her to a chair. “You’re okay now. You’re safe now.” “I’m going to get you some water. Mike’s right here,” Maureen told her. He knelt down in front of her. Such a good face, Abra thought as her breathing labored. A caring face with dark puppy-dog eyes. “The power’s out,” she said, almost absently. “No, it’s not.” “At Bluff House. The power’s out. It was dark. He was in the dark. I didn’t see him.” “It’s all right. The police are coming, and you’re all right.”
the room but a fucking T. rex. Sometimes I felt it would swallow me whole. But they crept around it, didn’t want to talk about it any more than was absolutely necessary. “‘Don’t upset Eli, don’t make him think about it, don’t depress him.’ It was damn depressing knowing they couldn’t or wouldn’t tell me how they felt, what they thought other than the ‘It’ll all be fine, we’re behind you.’ I appreciated knowing they’d stand up for me, but the screaming silence of that T. rex, and what they