{"product_id":"delilah-green-doesnt-care-isbn-9780593336403","title":"Delilah Green Doesn't Care","description":"\u003cb\u003eA clever and steamy queer romantic comedy about taking chances and accepting love—with all its complications—from the author of \u003ci\u003eAstrid Parker Doesn't Fail\u003c\/i\u003e.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Delilah Green swore she would never go back to Bright Falls—nothing is there for her but memories of a lonely childhood where she was little more than a burden to her cold and distant stepfamily. Her life is in New York, with her photography career finally gaining steam and her bed never empty. Sure, it’s a different woman every night, but that’s just fine with her.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e When Delilah’s estranged stepsister, Astrid, pressures her into photographing her wedding with a guilt trip and a five-figure check, Delilah finds herself back in the godforsaken town that she used to call home. She plans to breeze in and out, but then she sees Claire Sutherland, one of Astrid’s stuck-up besties, and decides that maybe there’s some fun (and a little retribution) to be had in Bright Falls, after all.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Having raised her eleven-year-old daughter mostly on her own while dealing with her unreliable ex and running a bookstore, Claire Sutherland depends upon a life without surprises. And Delilah Green is an unwelcome surprise…at first. Though they’ve known each other for years, they don’t really \u003ci\u003eknow \u003c\/i\u003eeach other—so Claire is unsettled when Delilah figures out exactly what buttons to push. When they’re forced together during a gauntlet of wedding preparations—including a plot to save Astrid from her horrible fiancé—Claire isn’t sure she has the strength to resist Delilah’s charms. Even worse, she’s starting to think she doesn’t want to...\"Blake captures all the complications of family, friendship, and romance with humor and heart.\"—\u003ci\u003eKirkus\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"A fun hometown romance, planned as the start of a series of Bright Falls–set queer romances.\"—\u003ci\u003eLibrary Journal\u003c\/i\u003e, starred review\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"There's family drama, trauma, childhood memories, love, romance, diverse relationships between not just the main couple, but everyone in the book, that'll have you on the edge of your seat. The novel also does a great job of inputting a queer love story in the middle of an enticing read.\"—\u003ci\u003eUSA Today\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e\"Delilah Green Doesn’t Care\u003c\/i\u003e is a hot, frothy romcom with a relatable heart beating at its centre. I loved every hilarious character, every outrageous shenanigan - and most of all, I loved Delilah Green. I can’t wait for the rest of the series!\"\u003ci\u003e—\u003c\/i\u003eTalia Hibbert, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eAct Your Age, Eve Brown\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"A truly exquisite romance about second chances, new beginnings, and the fragile joy of letting people in. I can't even count the number of gorgeous lines I highlighted. The setting, the scheming, the spice—Ashley Herring Blake paints every scene with a lyrical, tender brush. I'm wildly in love with this book.\"—Rachel Lynn Solomon, author of \u003ci\u003eWeather Girl\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"A classic in the making, Ashely's adult debut is a warm welcome home from the first page. A swoon-worthy, laugh-out-loud romp of a romance, this rom-com deserves to be amongst romantic titans\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003elike \u003ci\u003eYou've Got Mail, Breakfast at Tiffany's\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eSleepless in Seattle.\"—\u003c\/i\u003eKosoko Jackson, author of \u003ci\u003eI'm So Not Over You\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A spectacular debut  brimming with yearning, swooning, and healing\u003ci\u003e. Delilah Green Doesn’t Care\u003c\/i\u003e reads the way realizing your crush likes you back feels. Ashley Herring Blake is a romance star on the rise.”—Rosie Danan, national bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eThe Roommate\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e\"Delilah Green Doesn't Care\u003c\/i\u003e is the dreamy, steamy, utterly satisfying answer to your craving for an outcast-and-former-mean-girl romance, with complicated step-family relationships thrown in for extra delight. Ashley Herring Blake draws her characters with such beautiful, loving depth, and infinite compassion for the many ways relatives and friends can both hurt and heal each other. And let’s not forget the snappy banter and seriously scorching chemistry; you’ll need a very cold shower after this read!\"\u003ci\u003e—\u003c\/i\u003eLana Harper, author of \u003ci\u003ePayback's a Witch\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Charming and entertaining, \u003ci\u003eDelilah Green Doesn’t Care\u003c\/i\u003e entrances the reader with the redemptive power of love. Blake’s masterful blend of sexual tension and growing affection will have readers swooning.”—Karelia Stetz-Waters, author of \u003ci\u003eSatisfaction Guaranteed\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Blake’s well-crafted adult debut \u003ci\u003eDelilah Green Doesn’t Care\u003c\/i\u003e combines everything you could want in a sapphic romance—snark, steam and sweetness—with an intricate exploration of what it means to love someone and how we choose to show it, all spearheaded by its unforgettable protagonist Delilah who you’ll simultaneously want to be and be \u003ci\u003ewith\u003c\/i\u003e forever. Fans of Alexandria Bellefleur and Talia Hibbert won’t want to miss out on this emotional extravaganza.” —The Nerd Daily\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“This tender story of growth and change is about becoming a person your younger self can be proud of… Blake’s impressive talent is on display on every page, especially when it comes to tracking the evolution of her central couple’s relationship.”—BookPage, starred review\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“This is a cute rom-com type story for the LGBTQ set, with two heroines that will entertain and readers will want to see end up happily ever after.”—\u003ci\u003eParkersburg News and Sentinel\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Blake's smart and sexy first foray into adult after years of publishing gorgeous Sapphic middle grade and young adult.”—Buzzfeed\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"What an absolute joy to read! Snarky, steamy, and swoony in equal measure, I never wanted this book to end, but there’s an easy momentum to Blake’s writing that made it impossible to put down.”—Meryl Wilsner, author of \u003ci\u003eSomething to Talk About\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"\u003ci\u003eDelilah Green Doesn't Care \u003c\/i\u003eis a steamy romp with a warm heart at its center.”—Popsugar\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Ashley Herring Blake is an extraordinary writer.”—Autostraddle\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Smart and sexy.”—Buzzfeed\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"After you take a moment to take in this gorgeous cover, you're going to want to immediately pick up this debut.”—\u003ci\u003eCosmopolitan\u003c\/i\u003eAshley Herring Blake is the author of the young adult novels \u003ci\u003eSuffer Love, How to Make a Wish\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eGirl Made of Stars \u003c\/i\u003e(Houghton Mifflin Harcourt), and the middle grade novels \u003ci\u003eIvy Aberdeen’s Letter to the World\u003c\/i\u003e,\u003ci\u003e The Mighty Heart of Sunny St. James\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eHazel Bly and the Deep Blue Sea\u003c\/i\u003e (Little, Brown). You can find her on Twitter and Instagram at @ashleyhblake and on the web at ashleyherringblake.com. She lives in Georgia.ChapTer One\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Delilah's eyes flipped open at the buzz on the nightstand. She blinked the unfamiliar room into focus, once . . . twice. It had to be at least two in the morning, maybe later. She fumbled for her phone, silky white sheets tangling around her naked thighs as she twisted to silence the vibrating, which seemed loud enough to wake up-\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Oh shit.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She'd done it again. The name of the woman lying next to her slipped and slid in her memories from the previous night, the letters nearly impossible to grasp through the art show at the tiny Fitz gallery in the Village-a few of her photographs on the walls, a handful of patrons nodding and praising but never actually intrigued enough to buy anything, the champagne that never seemed to stop flowing- followed by that florid bar up on MacDougal Street and a whole hell of a lot of bourbon.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Delilah glanced over her shoulder at the sleeping white woman next to her. Dark blond pixie cut, creamy skin. Nice mouth, full thighs, phenomenal hands.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Lorna?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Lauren.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e No. Lola. Her name was definitely Lola.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Maybe.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Delilah bit her lip and grabbed the still gyrating phone, squinting at the name flashing on the bright display in the dark.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Ass-trid\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She barely had time to smirk at the way she'd spelled her stepsister's name in her contacts before she hit Ignore. An instinct. In Delilah's experience, a phone call at two in the morning was rarely a good thing, particularly when Astrid Parker was on the other end of the line. And who the hell even called anymore? Why couldn't Astrid text like a normal human?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Okay, fine, there might have been several unanswered texts in Delilah's messages, but in her defense, she was a useless sack of skin lately, with another month's rent looming and preparing for the Fitz show, at which her work only appeared because she knew the owner, Rhea Fitz, a former fellow waitress whose dead grandmother left her enough money to open her own gallery. The past few weeks had been a scramble of waiting tables part-time at the River Café in Brooklyn and working freelance portrait jobs and weddings, all of which barely paid enough to cover her apartment and food. She was one catastrophe away from having to move to New Jersey, and if she ever wanted to break into the ruthless New York City art world, New Jersey wasn't going to cut it. She'd sold a piece or two, sure, but her photography was niche, as one agent had told her while declining to represent her, and niche wasn't an easy sell.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e So, yeah, she'd been too busy busting her niche ass to talk to her stepsister. Plus, it wasn't like Astrid even liked her all that much anyway. They hadn't seen each other in five years.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Had it already been that long?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Hell, it was late. Delilah dropped the phone to her chest while Jax drifted into her thoughts for the first time in a while. Months. She squeezed her eyes closed tight, then opened them and stared up at the ceiling, which was covered with those glow-in-the-dark star stickers. She sat up, a cold panic shooting through her veins. Was she in a college dorm? God, please no. Delilah was nearly thirty years old, and college girls . . . well, she'd been there already, lived that part of her life. She preferred women her own age, always had, and was happy to leave behind all the fumbling and fluttering lashes she remembered from her early twenties.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She relaxed as the room came into focus, felt the softness of expensive sheets under her fingers. The bedroom was filled with modern furniture, all straight lines and cream-colored wood. Sophisticated art dappled the walls, expertly hung. An open door led into a living area, which Delilah now distinctly remembered as the scene where-Lana? Lily?-had pushed her onto a very posh white couch and slid Delilah's underwear off, tossing it over her own bare shoulder.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Definitely not college-level kind of furnishings. Not even Delilah Green-level kind of furnishings, and she was a full grown-up. Also, what Lilith had proceeded to do with her mouth was definitely not a college-level kind of skill.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Delilah flopped back down onto the bed, boneless at the memory. Her eyes had just started to feel heavy enough to close when her phone buzzed again. She jolted fully awake, peering at that same unlikely name and pressing Ignore for the second time.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Layton stirred next to her, turning over and squinting at Delilah, mascara smeared under her eyes. \"Oh. Hey. Everything okay?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yeah, sure-\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Her phone went off again.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Ass-trid\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Should you get that?\" Linda asked, tousled hair falling adorably over one blue eye. No way this sex goddess's name was Linda.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Maybe.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Then do it. When you're done, I've got something I want to show you.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Lydia-sure, why not-grinned, pulling down the linens to her hips for a split second before tucking the sheet back up to her chin. Delilah laughed as she tossed the covers back, slipping out of the bed completely naked. She very nearly answered the phone like that, but then grabbed a silk robe-definitely not a college-level kind of robe-that hung over a gray upholstered chair in the corner. She could not and would not talk to her stepsister in the buff.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Sliding on the robe, she went into the small living room-slash-open kitchen and climbed onto a stool, resting her elbows on the cool marble counter. She breathed in . . . out. She shook out her hands, rolled her neck. She had to prepare to talk to Astrid, like a boxer heading into a match. Gloves on, mouth guard in. On the counter, the phone stilled, Astrid's name disappearing, only to pop back up like a greeting card from hell. Best get this over with, then. She slid her finger across the phone.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"What?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Delilah?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Astrid's velvety voice filtered through the phone. Like an American Cate Blanchett, except more stick-up-your-ass and less queen-of-bisexuals. Exactly the kind of voice Delilah always knew adult-Astrid would have.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yeah,\" Delilah said, then cleared her throat. Her own voice was somewhere between six-cocktails-parched and years-of-sleep-deprivation-raspy.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Took you long enough to answer.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Delilah sighed. \"It's late.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"It's only eleven in Oregon. Plus, I figured this was the best time to catch you. Don't you turn into a bat after midnight?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Delilah snorted. \"I do. Now if you'll excuse me I'd like to get back to my cave.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Astrid didn't say anything for a few seconds. Long seconds that made Delilah wonder if she was still there, but she wasn't going to be the one to crack. They'd only spoken on the phone a dozen or so times since Delilah left Bright Falls the day after high school graduation, hopping a bus to Seattle with her Bright Falls High duffel bag on her shoulder, while Astrid took off for a postgrad trip to France with all of her horrible BFFs. Isabel, Astrid's mom and Delilah's wicked stepmother, had armed both girls with enough cash to keep them out of her hair for two weeks. The only difference being, Astrid came back, prepared for college at Berkeley like the dutiful daughter, while Delilah flew to New York and rented a one-bedroom dump on the Lower East Side. She was a legal adult, and there was no way in hell she was going to stay in that house one second longer than she needed to.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It wasn't like Isabel mourned her leaving.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Neither did Astrid, as far as Delilah could tell, though every now and then, this would happen. Texts that went ignored and turned into awkward phone calls where Astrid tried to pretend she hadn't made Delilah's already lonely childhood a living hell. Delilah had been back to Bright Falls five or six times in the past twelve years-a few Christmases and Thanksgivings, a funeral when her favorite art teacher had died. The last time was five years ago, when Delilah fled New York with a freshly obliterated heart, mistakenly thinking the familiarity of Bright Falls might serve as a balm. It hadn't, but it had given Delilah an idea for a photo series that had changed her ambition from struggling freelance photographer who barely made rent to successful queer artist with an amazing apartment in Williamsburg.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Which she still hadn't achieved, but she was trying.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"So . . . are you coming?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Astrid's voice cut through her musings, and she blinked Lucinda's kitchen back into view. \"Coming . . .\" A dirty joke rested on the tip of her tongue, but she bit it back.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Oh my god,\" Astrid said. \"Are you serious? Tell me you are not serious.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I-\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Delilah, tell me!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I'm trying if you'd shut up for two seconds!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Astrid blew out a breath so loud, it buzzed in Delilah's ear. \"Okay. Okay, I'm sorry, I'm just stressed. There's a lot going on.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Right,\" Delilah said, racking her brain for what the hell was going on. \"Um, so-\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Nope, no, no. You are not canceling on me, Delilah Green. Tell me that is not what you're doing.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Jesus, Ass, take a Xanax, will you?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Please don't call me that and do not cancel on me.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Delilah let a beat of silence pass. Maybe seeing her own art on actual gallery walls, tiny as they may be, followed by great sex had just addled her brain a little, and whatever the hell Astrid was talking about would come roaring back to clarity. She pulled the phone from her ear and hit the speakerphone button, then checked the date on her calendar app-Saturday, June 2. Wee hours. Friday the first was definitely a date that had been cemented in her mind for months as she prepped for the Fitz show. But there was something else there, something June-ish and Astrid-shaped and-\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Oh fuck.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Your wedding,\" Delilah said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yes, my wedding,\" Astrid said. \"The one I've been planning for months and for which Mother insisted I hire you as a photographer.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Don't sound so excited.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I have another word for it.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You're not really helping your case here, Ass.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Astrid huffed into the phone.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I'm still crushed I'm not a bridesmaid,\" Delilah deadpanned, but with the revelation of her stepsister's impending nuptials to some poor sucker, her heart picked up its pace as both terror and relief flooded her system.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e On the one hand, a Parker society wedding in Bright Falls was the absolute last thing she wanted to do right now. Or ever. She'd rubbed elbows with a few agents at the Fitz show and sold one whole piece-granted the patron was currently sleeping in the next room, but Loretta one hundred percent forked over her money before even batting a single lash Delilah's way. At least, Delilah was pretty sure that's how it happened, as she was too busy freaking the fuck out that someone traded actual money for something she'd created.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Regardless, now was not the time for Astrid-slash-Isabel bullshit. Delilah felt as though she was on the edge of something, being someone, and Bright Falls was a soul-sucking pit of despair where she was absolutely no one.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e On the other hand-the hand that tried to keep Delilah fed and clothed-Isabel Parker-Green had offered her a ridiculous sum of money to photograph Astrid's wedding and two weeks' worth of pre-wedding events. As the details from when Astrid first called Delilah about this happy event floated back to her now, there were definitely five figures involved. Low five figures, but still. Pocket change to Isabel Parker-Green and to most Brooklynites, but to Delilah, who could stretch a dollar for days, it was an IV to her dehydrated bank account.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Along with the money, which Astrid almost certainly knew Delilah couldn't refuse, Astrid had also delivered an oh-so-subtly manipulative, \"Mom says your father would've wanted you at my wedding.\" Delilah still resented her for it, mostly because she knew Isabel was right. While he'd been alive, Andrew Green had been a devoted family man to the point of ridiculousness, insisting on nightly dinners and spring break vacations, Christmas Eve traditions and checking homework and learning how to plait hair just so Delilah wouldn't be the only girl at the Renaissance Faire field trip without a braid crown.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A wedding would be nonnegotiable. You showed up for family, even if you got paid for it and gritted your teeth the entire time.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Pre-wedding events start on Sunday,\" Astrid said now. \"You agreed to be there for all of it, remember? The details I emailed you indicate you're booked June third through the sixteenth. I signed your contract, agreeing to all of your terms, and-\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I know, I know, yes,\" Delilah said, running a hand over her hair. Shit, she did not want to go back to Bright Falls for two whole weeks. And it was Pride month. She loved Pride in New York City. Who the hell started all this wedding nonsense that far before the actual day anyway? Well, Delilah knew exactly who.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Astrid-\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Don't you fucking dare.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"That mouth, Ass. What would Isabel say.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"She'd say that and a lot worse if you're about to cancel on her only daughter's wedding on such short notice.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Delilah sucked in a breath, even though she tried not to.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Her only daughter.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She wanted to fight the sting, to let the words slide right over her, but she failed. It was a reflex, this feeling, left over from a childhood with two dead parents and a stepmother who never really wanted her in the first place.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Shit,\" Astrid said, her tone regretful and irritated at the same time, as though Delilah had made her forget that Isabel had been Delilah's sole guardian after her father, Isabel's second husband, had died of an aneurysm when Delilah was ten years old.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"There's that mouth again,\" Delilah said, laughing through a thick throat. \"I think I might like this new stressed-out Astrid.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Her stepsister didn't say anything for a few seconds, but the silence was long enough for Delilah to know she'd be on a morning flight out of JFK.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Just be here, okay?\" Astrid said. \"It's too late to find someone decent to replace you.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Delilah wiped her hand down her face. \"Yeah.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"What was that?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yes,\" Delilah practically yelled. \"I'll be there.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Good. I already booked your room at the Kaleidoscope-\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"What, I'm not staying with Mommy Dearest?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"-and I'll email you the itinerary. Again.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Delilah grunted and hung up before Astrid could hang up on her, then dropped the phone on the counter like it was on fire. She twisted the lid off a half-full bottle of gin that sat next to the sink and took a shot, no glass required. The liquor burned all the way down, searing her nostrils and watering her eyes.","brand":"Berkley","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46303983370469,"sku":"NP9780593336403","price":19.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780593336403.jpg?v=1767724977","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/delilah-green-doesnt-care-isbn-9780593336403","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}