{"product_id":"believe-me-isbn-9781524799342","title":"Believe Me","description":"\u003cb\u003eIn this twisty psychological thriller from the \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eThe Girl Before,\u003c\/i\u003e an actress plays both sides of a murder investigation.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e \u003cbr\u003e“[A] rich, nuanced, highly literary take on the \u003ci\u003eGone Girl\u003c\/i\u003e theme.”—\u003ci\u003eBooklist \u003c\/i\u003e(starred review)\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eClaire Wright is desperate. A British drama student in New York without a green card, she takes the only job she can get: working for a firm of divorce lawyers, posing as an easy pickup in hotel bars to entrap straying husbands. But then the game changes. \u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eWhen one of her targets becomes the suspect in a murder investigation, the police ask Claire to use her acting chops to lure him into a confession. From the start, she questions the part she’s being asked to play: Is Patrick Fogler a killer? Or is there more to this setup than she’s being told?\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eClaire will soon realize she is playing the deadliest role of her life. \u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003ePraise for \u003ci\u003eBelieve Me\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e“For readers who enjoyed the paranoia factor in A. J. Finn’s \u003ci\u003eThe Woman in the Window\u003c\/i\u003e or the unreliable narrator of Paula Hawkins’s \u003ci\u003eThe Girl on the Train\u003c\/i\u003e.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eLibrary Journal\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e“Produces a bobsled run’s worth of twists.” \u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e“An intense, stylish psychological thriller.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eGood Housekeeping\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e“A dark and haunting thriller . . . A superb evocation of conflicted emotions, this never lets you guess what’s coming next.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eDaily Mail\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e“I so enjoyed it—what a twisty, exciting read.”\u003cb\u003e—Sabine Durrant, author of \u003ci\u003eLie With Me\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e“A compelling read . . . redefines the concept of an unreliable narrator . . . [a] rich, nuanced, highly literary take on the \u003ci\u003eGone Girl\u003c\/i\u003e theme.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e (starred review)\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Fast-paced . . . A solid pick from bestselling author [JP] Delaney for readers who enjoyed the paranoia factor in A.J. Finn’s \u003ci\u003eThe Woman in the Window\u003c\/i\u003e or the unreliable narrator of Paula Hawkins’s \u003ci\u003eThe Girl on the Train\u003c\/i\u003e. The domestic thriller trend is showing no signs of slowing. Buy accordingly.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eLibrary Journal\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “An intense, stylish psychological thriller.”\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—Good Housekeeping\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A dark and haunting thriller . . . A superb evocation of conflicted emotions, this never lets you guess what’s coming next.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eDaily Mail\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e“The author produces a bobsled run’s worth of twists.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e  “I so enjoyed it—what a twisty, exciting read.”\u003cb\u003e—Sabine Durrant, author of \u003ci\u003eLie With Me\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003ePraise for JP Delaney’s \u003ci\u003eThe Girl Before\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “A pitch-perfect novel of psychological suspense.”\u003cb\u003e—Lee Child\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “The pages fly.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eUSA Today\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “\u003ci\u003eThe Girl Before\u003c\/i\u003e generates a fast pace.”\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—The New York Times\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Get hooked on this hair-raiser.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eCosmopolitan\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “[A] must-read.”\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—New York Post\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Almost unbearably suspenseful.”\u003cb\u003e—Joseph Finder\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “A masterfully crafted spellbinder.”\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—Booklist \u003c\/i\u003e(starred review)\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Superior psychological suspense.”\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—The Bookseller\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “A sexy murder mystery.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eInStyle\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003eThe \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eThe Girl Before\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eBelieve Me\u003c\/i\u003e,\u003cb\u003e JP Delaney\u003c\/b\u003e has previously written fiction under other names.1\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMy friend hasn’t showed yet.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThat’s what you’d think if you saw me here, perched at the bar of this corporate-­cool New York hotel, trying to make my Virgin Mary last all evening. Just another young professional waiting for her date. A little more dressy than some of the other women here, maybe. I don’t look like I just came from an office.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAt the other end of the bar a group of young men are drinking and joshing, punching one another on the shoulder to make their points. One—­good-­looking, smartly dressed, athletic—­catches my eye. He smiles. I look away.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSoon after, a table becomes free near the back, and I take my drink over and sit at it. Where, suddenly, this little scene unfolds:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eINT. DELTON HOTEL BAR, W. 44TH ST., NEW YORK—­NIGHT\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMAN\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e(belligerently)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eExcuse me?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSomeone’s standing in front of me. A businessman, about forty-­five, wearing an expensive casual-­cut suit that suggests he’s something more than the usual executive drone, the collar lapped by hair that’s just a little too long for Wall Street.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe’s angry. Very angry.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eME\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYes?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMAN\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThat’s my table. I just went to the bathroom.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe gestures at the laptop, drink, and magazine I somehow managed to miss.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMAN\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThat’s my drink. My stuff. It was pretty clear this table’s occupied.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAround us, heads are turning in our direction. But there’s going to be no confrontation, no eruption of New York stress. Already I’m getting to my feet, pulling my bag onto my shoulder. Defusing the drama.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eME\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSorry—­I hadn’t realized. I’ll find somewhere else.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI take a step away and look around helplessly, but the place is busy and my previous seat has gone. There is nowhere else.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOut of the corner of my eye I can sense him taking me in, running his eyes over Jess’s Donna Karan jacket, the expensive one she keeps for auditions, the soft dark cashmere that sets off my pale skin and dark hair. And realizing what a stupid mistake he’s making.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMAN\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWait . . . I guess we could share it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe gestures at the table.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMAN\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThere’s room for us both—­I was just catching up on some work.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eME\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e(smiling gratefully)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOh—­thank you.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI put my bag back and sit down. For a while there’s a silence I’m careful not to break. This has to come from him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSure enough, when he speaks his voice has changed subtly—­it’s huskier, thicker. Do women’s voices change the same way? I should experiment with that, sometime.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMAN\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAre you waiting on someone? Bet he’s been held up by the snow. That’s why I’m staying an extra night—­it’s chaos out at LaGuardia.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd I smile to myself, because it’s actually pretty neat, the way he tries to find out if this person I’m meeting is a man or a woman, and at the same time let me know he’s here on his own.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eME\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eGuess I could be here awhile, then.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe nods at my now-­empty glass.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMAN\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn that case, can I get you another one of those? I’m Rick, by the way.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOf all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world . . .\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eME\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThank you, Rick. I’d love a martini. And I’m Claire.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRICK\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNice to meet you, Claire. And, uh, sorry about just now.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eME\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNo, really, it was my mistake.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI say it with such offhand nonchalance, such gratitude, that even I’d be surprised to discover it’s a lie.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut then, this isn’t lying. This is behaving truthfully under imaginary circumstances. Which, as you’ll discover, is very different.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe waitress takes our order. As she leaves, a man at the next table leans across and gives her a hard time about a missing drink. I watch as she sulkily tugs a pen from behind her ear, almost as if she can pull the customer’s words out and flick them to the floor.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI could use that, I think. I put it away somewhere, deep in the filing system, focus my attention back on the man opposite.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eME\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhat brings you to New York, Rick?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRICK\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBusiness. I’m a lawyer.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eME\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI don’t believe you.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRick looks puzzled.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRICK\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhy not?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eME\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe lawyers I meet are all ugly and boring.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe matches my smile.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRICK\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWell, I specialize in the music business. Up in Seattle. We like to think we’re a little more exciting than your average criminal attorney. How about you?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eME\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhat do I do for a living? Or do I think I’m exciting?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTo our mutual surprise, we’re flirting now, a little.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRICK\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBoth.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI nod at the waitress’s departing back.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eME\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWell, I used to do what she does, before.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRICK\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBefore what?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eME\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBefore I realized there are more exciting ways to pay the rent.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt’s always in the eyes—­that slight, almost imperceptible stillness as an idea dawns behind them. He turns the possibilities of what I’ve just said over in his mind. Decides he’s reading too much into it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRICK\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd where are you from, Claire? I’m trying to place that accent.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt’s Virginia, damn you. Hence the way I rhymed the law in lawyer with boy.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eME\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI’m from . . . wherever you want me to be from.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe smiles. A wolfish, eager smile that says, So I was right.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRICK\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI never met a girl from there before.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eME\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd you meet a lot of girls, right?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRICK\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI do combine my business trips with a certain amount of pleasure.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eME\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBefore you fly back to your wife and kids in Seattle.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRick frowns.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRICK\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhat makes you think I’m married?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eME\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e(reassuringly)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe ones I go for usually are. The ones who know how to have fun.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCertain though he is now, he doesn’t rush it. We sip our drinks and he tells me about some of his clients, back in Seattle—­the famous teenage idol he names who likes underaged girls, and the macho heavy-­metal star who’s gay but doesn’t dare admit it. He tells me, with a hint of emphasis, how much money there is to be made doing what he does, drawing up contracts for those who are temperamentally unlikely to abide by them, requiring the services of people like him at both ends, the making of the contract and its eventual dissolution. And finally, when I look suitably impressed at all that, he suggests that, since my friend clearly isn’t going to show, we move on to someplace else, a restaurant or club, whichever I’d prefer—­\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRICK\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e(softly)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOr we could just get ourselves some room service. I’m staying right upstairs.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eME\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRoom service can be expensive.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRICK\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhatever you want. You choose. A bottle of Cristal, some caviar . . .\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eME\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI meant, room service can be expensive . . . when I’m the one providing it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThere. It’s out in the open now. But don’t react to what you’ve just said, don’t smile or look away. No big deal. You do this all the time.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJust ignore the hammering in your chest, the sick feeling in the pit of your stomach.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRick nods, satisfied.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRICK\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI’m not the only one here on business, right?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eME\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYou got me, Rick.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRICK\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIf you don’t mind me saying, Claire, you don’t seem the type.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTime to confess.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eME\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThat’s because . . . I’m not.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRICK\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSo what type are you?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eME\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe type who comes here to take acting classes and gets behind on her tuition fees. Every couple of months I go out, have some fun . . . and the problem goes away.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOn the other side of the lobby, a family is checking in. A little girl, about six years old, all dressed up in a coat, knit hat, and scarf for her trip to the city, wants to see what’s going on behind the desk. Her father lifts her up, placing her feet on her elephant-­trunk suitcase, and she sprawls across the counter, excited, as the manager issues the key cards, handing one to her with a smile. Her dad keeps one hand protectively on the small of her back, making sure she doesn’t slip off. I feel a familiar tug of envy and pain.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI push it from my mind and get back into the conversation with Rick, who’s leaning forward, his voice lowered, eyes bright—­\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRICK\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd how much fun are you looking to have tonight, Claire?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eME\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI guess that’s open to negotiation.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe smiles. He’s a lawyer. Negotiations are part of the game.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRICK\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShall we say three hundred?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eME\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIs that what they charge in Seattle?New York Times bestselling author of The Girl Before","brand":"Ballantine Books","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46299944583397,"sku":"NP9781524799342","price":17.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9781524799342.jpg?v=1767722403","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/believe-me-isbn-9781524799342","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}