TH - 715 | The Hunting Party by Lucy Foley

Everyone's invited...everyone's a suspect...
 
For fans of Ruth Ware and Tana French, a shivery, atmospheric, page-turning novel of psychological suspense in the tradition of Agatha Christie, in which a group of old college friends are snowed in at a hunting lodge . . . and murder and mayhem ensue.

All of them are friends. One of them is a killer.

Read More

TH - 714 | The Guest List by Lucy Foley

Set on a remote island off the Irish coast, this is one guest list no one would want to be on, just as no one would have wanted an invitation to the New Year's Eve party in Foley's previous novel, The Hunting Party.

On an island off the coast of Ireland, guests gather to celebrate two people joining their lives together as one. The groom: handsome and charming, a rising television star. The bride: smart and ambitious, a magazine publisher. It’s a wedding for a magazine, or for a celebrity: the designer dress, the remote location, the luxe party favors, the boutique whiskey.

Read More

F - 2197 | The Invitation by Lucy Foley

 An evocative love story set along the Italian Riviera about a group of charismatic stars who all have secrets and pasts they try desperately -- and dangerously -- to hide.

Rome, 1953: Hal, an itinerant journalist flailing in the post-war darkness, has come to the Eternal City to lose himself and to seek absolution for the thing that haunts him. One evening he finds himself on the steps of a palazzo, walking into a world of privilege and light.

Read More

F - 2196 | Last Letter from Istanbul by Lucy Foley

An epic tale that vividly captures the turmoil of forbidden love, set against the rich backdrop of a legendary city steeped in history and myth…

The perfect read for fans of the sweeping historical novels of Santa Montefiore & Victoria Hislop.

Constantinople, 1921

Each day Nur gazes across the waters of the Bosphorus to her childhood home, a grand white house, nestled on the opposite bank. Memories float on the breeze – the fragrance of the fig trees, the saffron sunsets of languid summer evenings. But now those days are dead.

Read More