Killing the Unicorn: A Dark Domestic Thriller about a Modern Marriage (in English)
Synopsis "Killing the Unicorn: A Dark Domestic Thriller about a Modern Marriage (in English)"
"Killing the Unicorn is an edge of your seat psychological thriller that weaves layer upon layer of lies, manipulation, and suspense...By far, this is my number one favorite psychological thriller of the year." - Sinfully Wicked Book Reviews Fans of Gillian Flynn and B. A. Paris will love this dark and disturbing psychological thriller. She inhabited my dull, threadbare marriage and made it into something glamorous and exciting. Gentle reader, I hated her... A MODERN MARRIAGE Since having twins, Helen has lost her waistline, her libido, and her edge. Mann, her wealthy, high-flying husband, has tried to be patient. But he needs more than she can give. A lot more. When he asks to open their marriage, Helen reluctantly agrees. She would rather bend than risk a high-stakes divorce. A DANGEROUS OBSESSION When Mann connects with Julia, Helen is relieved. At first. She likes Julia, a gentle woman with a tragic history. But her husband is moving fast. Too fast. And a series of odd events unnerves Helen and makes her wonder if Julia is lying about her past...or worse. Helen becomes obsessed with Julia even as she questions herself and her motives. To protect her children and her sanity, she is driven to discover the truth: is Julia a danger to her family, or is she? Early praise for this dark domestic thriller A tense psychological thriller that pulled few punches, drew me in and broadened my mind. What happened?!? I'm still shocked! If you're looking for a book that sucks you in and keeps you on the edge of your seat guessing, look no further! Twisted. Okay, this book has seriously scarred me for life... More on Goodreads. Read an excerpt I smelled his musky aftershave before I felt his embrace. His arms wrapped around me, and his lips found the soft, tender skin on my neck. Out of habit, I leaned into his hard, sculpted chest. At six-feet and change, he was nearly a foot taller than me. Once upon a time, his muscular frame had made me hot and wet with liquid joy. "The kids are finally asleep," he rumbled, nuzzling my ear. "Let's have some grown-up time." His hands roamed from my bulky waist to my overstuffed thighs. I closed my eyes and pictured my husband Mann just a few weeks past his thirty-ninth birthday. He might have been a movie star or a model if he hadn't fallen for technology first. His hair was a deep chestnut, subtly salted with gray. His eyes were a warm, thoughtful brown. His nose, broken in a lacrosse accident many years ago, was a few endearing millimeters away from perfection. He was the father of my adorable, two-year-old twins, and he still wanted me, with all my lumps and flaws. I should have melted into him. I should have burned with longing. I should have desperately wanted to shuck off my clothes, to be vulnerable and intimate and seen. But I felt nothing but a bone-deep exhaustion, lightly tinged with irritation. I had just finished putting our two cherubs to bed after a grueling day of attachment parenting. All I wanted was to savor the quiet of the house. Besides, sex in its most traditional form was painful for me, a side effect of an unspeakably difficult pregnancy. "C'mon, honey," he whispered, pressing himself into me. "We don't have to do anything that will hurt. I just want to be close to you. It's been so long." He was right. It had been a long time, longer than I care to say. I decided I had to try. I had been a half-assed sort of wife since the girls were born, and he deserved more. We deserved more. I half-moaned, half-sighed as his hands found my round, flaccid belly. I would fake it until I felt it, or something like that...
