Your sister. Her secret. The betrayal.

There is no bond greater than blood . . .

When the body of a woman is found stabbed to death, the blame falls to her twin sister. But who killed who? And which one is now the woman behind bars?

Zara and Miranda have always supported each other. But then Zara meets Seb, and everything changes. Handsome, charismatic and dangerous, Seb threatens to tear the sisters’ lives apart – but is he really the one to blame? Or are deeper resentments simmering beneath the surface that the sisters must face up to?

As the sisters’ relationship is stretched to the brink, a traumatic incident in Seb’s past begins to rear its head and soon all three are locked in a psychological battle that will leave someone dead. The question is, who?

Firstly a huge thank you to Sabah at avon… they are on fire with their books this year and its only April!

Amandas debut book obsession as one of my top reads last year so i ws thrilled to get the opportunity to read guilt.

Theres always that apprenshion with the second book..will it deliver the goods ?

Let me tell you it does !

Amanda has a way of creeping right into your head making it very uncomfortable…but in a good way of course

What intense charactars and you will feel strong emotions towards them especially seb….

Incredibly dark ,addictive and chilling.

Remember to breathe while readinh it as its intense .

Amanda is  a writing genius who creates a book which you are so attached to but at same time feel pleased to know ts not happening to you !!

This will be another bestseller and i wish her every success. 

Do read on for a extract and be sure to check our the other blogs taking part.

When did things change? When did I become the one who had to reassure my mother? I squeeze her hand. She squeezes back. Her eyes calm and soften.

Zara is returning from the toilets, weaving between tables, almost smiling through her pout. She bumps into an elderly man who rests his eyes a little too long on her as she apologises.

‘Come on. Let’s get the bill,’ she says to us. ‘When we get home I’m going to show you my coursework portfolio.’

She seems a little more relaxed now.

We walk home. Arm in arm along Harbourside. Past the smokers outside the sports pub, heads together chatting conspiratorially as they puff. Past groups of girls in short skirts striding out and giggling, about to go clubbing. A middle-aged man walking a Westie. A man slumped on the pavement strumming a guitar, a cap to collect money by his side. Electric light dappling the water, softening the city, softening the darkness. Into our flat for a nightcap.

Mother and I sit on our sofa, drinking another glass of wine each. Alcohol is softening our edges, helping us to relax. Zara disappears to her bedroom and returns with her photography portfolio.

‘This is my extended project,’ she announces proudly and places it on the coffee table in front of us.

We lean forward to look at it; Mother opens the folder. First, an A4 blow-up of Sebastian’s face. His handsome craggy face, bearing a confident grin. She turns the page. Ten small photographs of Sebastian. Ten different expressions. Each one laughing and smiling. Another page. More photographs of Sebastian. Some straight-faced. One frowning. One raising his eyes. Hundreds of photographs. All of Sebastian. Close-ups of his face. A smile. A grin. Another sultry frown.

Sebastian. Sebastian. Sebastian, everywhere we look.

Mother and I exchange a worried glance. Zara Cunningham. How much are you in love?



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