When writing the wholesome small towns in my novels, I think hard about the kind of towns where community is bedded into their very culture. Small towns and villages feel safe because people know each other, but put that same idea into a psychological thriller and it becomes super unsettling. If everyone knows everyone, who gets to keep a secret? And what happens when an entire community has agreed to turn a blind eye on something that’s a little sinister?

There's something almost compulsive about a story set somewhere beautiful where everything goes horribly wrong. The perfect village. The idyllic small town. The close-knit community where everyone knows everyone's name and the gardens are immaculate and the local Facebook group buzzes with bake sale announcements and lost cat appeals. We're drawn in by the prettiness of it — and then we can't look away when the cracks appear. Why? What is it about paradise that makes darkne