{"product_id":"when-im-her-isbn-9780593334515","title":"When I'm Her","description":"\u003cb\u003eHow far would you go to get even with the woman who ruined your life?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn this electrifying thriller, a young woman gets everything she’s ever wanted—and everything she doesn’t—when she swaps bodies with her sworn enemy.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThough polar opposites, Mary and Elizabeth are as close as can be—until the night Elizabeth makes an irrevocable mistake and leaves Mary to take the blame. Years later, Elizabeth seems to have forgotten Mary exists.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMary hasn’t forgotten her.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe follows Elizabeth’s every move online, obsessed with paying her back for the betrayal that cost Mary her dreams. Now Mary has found a way to switch bodies with Elizabeth, and she’s got a plan to steal her charmed life. Her career. Her looks. Her husband. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThey do say living well is the best revenge.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOr is it? The more Mary uncovers about Elizabeth’s life, the more she realizes she may have made a deadly mistake. And she'll need the help of her worst enemy to stay alive.\u003cb\u003ePraise for \u003ci\u003eWhen I'm Her\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Twisty doesn't begin to describe Sarah Zachrich Jeng's \u003ci\u003eWhen I’m Her\u003c\/i\u003e—a complex, mind-bending, mind-blowing psychological suspense unlike anything I've ever read. Jeng's first novel was a stunner, and now she's completely outdone herself. Just read it!\"\u003cbr\u003e—\u003cb\u003eKaren Dionne\u003c\/b\u003e, bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eThe Marsh King’s Daughter \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Speculative suspense fans, get ready. This twisty page turner has everything I love in the genre: a fascinating premise, huge moral questions any book club would love to sink their teeth into, and two uncompromising, enigmatic women at the heart of the story. Once you start reading, \u003ci\u003eWhen I’m Her\u003c\/i\u003e will trade places with your life.”\u003cbr\u003e —\u003cb\u003eMindy Mejia\u003c\/b\u003e, bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eStrike Me Down\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Fans of sf, thrillers, and new-adult fiction will   enjoy this book about two friends wading their way through traumatic and   complicated situations.”\u003cbr\u003e—\u003ci\u003e\u003cb\u003eBooklist\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“The adage \u003ci\u003ebe careful what you wish for\u003c\/i\u003e is taken to the next level in this unputdownable story about friendship, envy, and revenge. The premise is wild and innovative, with a Blake Crouch twist, and will keep you ripping through the pages. Another winner from Sarah Zachrich Jeng.”\u003cbr\u003e —\u003cb\u003eAlex Finlay\u003c\/b\u003e, author of \u003ci\u003eThe Night Shift\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “The queen of the steminist thriller is back with another intricate, twisted ride. \u003ci\u003eWhen I’m Her\u003c\/i\u003e is part wish fulfillment, part nightmare and all engrossing!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Eliza Jane Brazier\u003c\/b\u003e, author of \u003ci\u003eGirls and Their Horses\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003ePraise for \u003ci\u003eThe Other Me\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e“Mind bending and emotional...a taut psychological thriller with a twisted question at its core: Would you be willing to lose a life you love in order to gain something you thought was lost forever?”\u003cbr\u003e—\u003cb\u003eJulie Clark\u003c\/b\u003e, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eThe Last Flight\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\"The definition of unputdownable...This is one of the most innovative thrillers I've read in a long, long time.\"\u003cbr\u003e—\u003cb\u003eSamantha Downing\u003c\/b\u003e, \u003ci\u003eUSA Today\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eMy Lovely Wife\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Breathtaking, inventive, and irresistible... Who hasn't wondered what alternate versions of their lives might look like?...As relatable as it is suspenseful, cleverly exploring adulthood, identity, and shifting realities. A knockout debut.”\u003cbr\u003e—\u003cb\u003eMargarita Montimore\u003c\/b\u003e, \u003ci\u003eUSA Today \u003c\/i\u003ebestselling author of \u003ci\u003eOona Out of Order\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Perhaps this book’s greatest pleasure—and there are many to choose from—is the way Jeng leads the reader down one road, then makes a sharp right turn and heads off in a new direction. \u003ci\u003eThe Other Me\u003c\/i\u003e is not what it seems to be, and Kelly’s story is not going to end where you think it will. This is Jeng’s first novel, and it immediately establishes her as a writer to watch very closely.”\u003cbr\u003e―\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Like both \u003ci\u003eBlack Mirror\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eRussian Doll\u003c\/i\u003e, Sarah Zachrich Jeng's \u003ci\u003eThe Other Me\u003c\/i\u003e resists categorization, blending the impossible with the probable with the downright plausible.”\u003cbr\u003e—\u003cb\u003eNPR\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Convincing alternate-universe mechanics and a subtle lesson in the perils of manipulating other people to get what we want raise the bar in this fun, well-paced story. An enjoyable adventure with a likable heroine in search of the life she really wants.”\u003cbr\u003e―\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Satisfyingly intricate and genuinely innovative.”\u003cbr\u003e—\u003cb\u003eEliza Jane Brazier\u003c\/b\u003e, author of \u003ci\u003eIf I Disappear\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“An ingenious twist on the domestic thriller...This assured, compelling debut will leave you nostalgic for all the lives you’ve never lived.”\u003cbr\u003e—\u003cb\u003eLayne Fargo\u003c\/b\u003e, author of \u003ci\u003eThey Never Learn\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003eSarah Zachrich Jeng\u003c\/b\u003e grew up in Michigan and always had a flair for the morbid and mysterious (for her dad’s thirty-fifth birthday, she wrote a story entitled “The Man Who Died at 35”). She had a brief career as an aspiring rock star before she came to her senses and went back to school to become a web developer. Sarah lives in Florida with her family and two extremely hyper rescue dogs.1\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMary\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNow\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI've just left my apartment, the cold hitting me like a snowball to the face, when Detective Johns appears.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI was never charged in connection with what happened that Halloween, but attempted murder doesn't have a statute of limitations. It kills me that I didn't see this coming.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAs a child I hated when my parents said to \"go play in the snow,\" because unsupervised time with other children never went well for me. It was only a matter of time until someone-often my brother, two years older and big enough that I could have fit stacked inside him like a matryoshka doll-would hold me down and force a handful of snow down my collar. Johns' attack is just as sudden, if more subtle. When he falls into step with me, I'm so startled, my worn boots slide out from under me on the icy sidewalk.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe grabs my elbow. \"Watch yourself, now. Those slips and falls can really mess you up.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDid he just wink?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI jerk my arm from his grasp, too rattled to pretend I don't recognize him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Good to see you, Mary,\" he says. \"It's been a while.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSeven years. Anthony Johns was the lead detective, a bald Black man with hunched shoulders who spoke in a deep, soothing voice. His voice is still soothing. His presence outside my building, not so much.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe smiles slightly. In contrast to my mismatched layers, his only outerwear is a black topcoat, unbuttoned to reveal the badge clipped to his belt. No hat shelters the shiny dome of his head from the cutting wind, yet he seems perfectly comfortable. Maybe the prospect of a new break in an old case is what warms him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"What do you want?\" I say.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Every bit as direct as I remember.\" His tone is fond, as if he never told me I had nothing to gain by being a bitch. \"Are you aware Garrett Deegan died a few months back?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Of an overdose.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe news made the rounds through Elizabeth's social media circles, people acting their asses off about what a great guy Garrett had been. How much they would miss him. How they'd had no idea of the demons he was battling.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePlease. The only battles Garrett ever fought were against people with a fraction of his power. In my opinion, he lived a lot longer than he should have.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI don't say that to Johns, because I'm not stupid. Garrett's parents placed the blame for his near death-and subsequent decline into addiction-squarely on me. They are rich and powerful, so this makes life difficult. I'm not looking to make it unbearable.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJohns taps his chin. \"Did you know illicit drug deaths are treated as homicides?\" He plainly does not expect an answer. \"Part of my investigation consists of just talking to people who knew the victim.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe victim. Just talking, my ass. \"I haven't spoken to Garrett in years.\" I wasn't allowed to speak to him, even if I'd wanted to.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJohns' voice sharpens. \"But you know how he died.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMy mouth opens, to say what, I don't know. That I saw it on the internet, but Garrett wasn't the one I was spying on? Yeah, that wouldn't sound suspicious at all.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI snap my mouth shut. I of all people should know it's never a good idea to talk to the police.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJohns is blocking the way back to my building. I'm afraid that if I get on the bus that's pulling up next to us, he'll board it along with me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Do you have a minute to talk? In your apartment, maybe? Sure be a lot more comfortable than out here.\" Now he shivers, but we both know it's a performance. I'm already shaking my head. \"Come on, now, Mary. I've just got a couple things I need you to clear up. You don't want to have to come up to the precinct and piss away half your day, do you?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMy chest tightens, lips going numb as the blood drains from my face. I've never been great at thinking on my feet. The bus pulls away, and there's that escape gone, along with any hope of being on time for my newest crappy job.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Mary?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI whirl around, narrowly avoiding a face-plant situation, though this time Johns doesn't bother to help me. Behind us is Miguel, who lives in my building. Great. He's holding his phone vertically. I am so, so glad that my humiliation will be fodder for his @OBEPhDLife channel or whatever the fuck he has. Everyone's got a presence, no matter how obscure, and they're all just waiting for their viral moment.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut his eyes are narrowed in Johns' direction. He asks me, \"Everything okay here?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJohns puts on a warm but insincere smile. \"Well, that's up to Ms. Burke-\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Is she free to go?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJohns glances at me, then at the phone, and for the first time seems less than in control. \"You don't have permission to record-\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I don't need it. We're on a public street. Is she under arrest?\" Miguel's tone remains pleasant; it's the words that are incendiary.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJohns makes eye contact with me. \"You should get your side of the story on the record before it comes to that.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"My side of the story? I don't have a story. I didn't have anything to do with it.\" I'm intentionally vague, because Miguel already knows more than he needs to about my sordid history.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Then you've got nothing to worry about,\" Johns says. \"You want to put this to bed, Mary, and now's the time.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe holds my eye. I try not to look away, but after a moment that feels much longer than it probably is, I have to.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMiguel's phone, and Miguel behind it, continues to bear witness.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJohns sighs. He brings out a card and extends it to me between two leather-gloved fingers.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Give me a call when you get a minute. Among other things, I've got Garrett's people wondering where you were the night he passed, and I'm sure you want to allay that interest as soon as possible.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIf he's trying to intimidate me, it absolutely works. Wordlessly, I accept the card, because that's how I push the detective out of my life for a little longer. Glancing at it, I see he works here in the city now. It's a common enough pipeline from the town where I went to college.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhere Elizabeth and I went to college.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"You planning any travel? Going home for the holidays?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI don't imagine the mocking note in his voice. That particular trip hasn't happened for a long time. I shake my head, avoiding his eyes.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Good. Let me know if you decide to leave town. Then I won't have to come after you.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJohns throws Miguel one last, irritated glance before striding off in his wing tips. Miguel and I watch him go, hoping he'll slip and fall on his ass. Or I'm hoping it, anyway.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMiguel puts his phone away and turns to me, which is my cue to scuttle back through the building doors and hopefully up the stairs before he gets a chance to ask any questions. I've decided I'm not going in to work. Under-the-table cleaning and call-center jobs aren't the easiest to get, but they aren't the hardest, and I don't need any more proof that leaving my apartment today was a bad idea.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMaybe staying here was the bad idea. I should have moved across the country years ago; then I wouldn't be in this mess.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut if I'd moved, I wouldn't live in the same city as Elizabeth.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Mary, hold up!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI can't flagrantly be a bitch, not when Miguel saved me out there. I stop in front of the mailboxes, most of which have broken locks, and sweep at least a week's worth of bills, payday-loan circulars, and whatever else into my bag.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Thanks for stepping in,\" I say. \"I think he had me confused with someone else, but cops never believe you when you tell them that.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMiguel's shaking his head while he grabs his own mail. \"I hate how they throw their weight around.\" Usually he speaks in a mild drawl, but now his tone is sharp with indignation, which reminds me why he's the only person in this building I talk to voluntarily. We're not friends. I've never gotten the hang of making those, with that one unfortunate exception. Still, we've bonded somewhat over the fact that we're both from small, shitty towns, his in Florida and mine farther north.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"By the way,\" he says, \"I've been meaning to say sorry about what happened with the job at the lab. Were you able to get your other job back?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"No, but it's fine.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Ah shit. I mean, I feel bad. We got your hopes up, and then-\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI make a cutting motion with my hand. \"Forget it. Not your fault.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe rocks back on his heels, eyes on the floor; he's still troubled. Not much either of us can do about it, though, is there? \"For the record,\" he says, \"Dr. Ofori and I thought you were perfect for it. Just because the Deegans are donors doesn't mean they should have a say in staffing.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut they do. And the last thing Garrett's parents want is for me, the person who ruined their son's life, to have any security. The job wasn't fancy-glorified receptionist in a university research lab-but it offered that much, plus a possible alternate path to the goal I've been working toward. Failing at, rather.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThat chance is gone now, and I'm still right where Brian and Rosemary Deegan want me. Scraping a living, looking over my shoulder.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI pretend to be absorbed in my phone so I won't have to make any more awkward conversation with Miguel, who murmurs a farewell and moves on to the stairs.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI'm worried. Johns might not have had enough to arrest me just now, but I've had the look in his eyes directed at me before. The look of a cop who's found his perp. I barely slipped his net last time, and that's got to have pissed him off.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt's always been a vendetta for the Deegans. And now their son isn't just broken; he's dead.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI have no idea what I was doing on the night of Garrett Deegan's alleged overdose. I'm not even sure which night it was-if the rumors are true, he wasn't actually found until a couple of days after the fact, when the housekeeper let herself in and encountered a little more than the usual post-party cleanup. Even if I could come up with an alibi, I'm not sure that would be enough against people who own a private jet and a couple of members of Congress.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI got the blame for Garrett's \"accident\" in college, and now I'm under suspicion in his \"accidental\" death. I know what a frame job looks like. This won't end well for me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAt root, this isn't the Deegans' fault. As shitty and destructive as they are, I can almost understand where they're coming from. First rule of the woods: don't fuck with mama bear's cub. Also, trying to fight them would be about as effective as using my bare fists against a grizzly's claws.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eElizabeth is the one who did this to me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIf I try, I can bring up a sense memory of rain pelting my head and shoulders, wet polyester sticking to my skin. The bone-deep chill from that night. We kept shivering long after we'd gotten back to the dorm. Elizabeth told me everything would be fine, but she lied.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd unlike the Deegans, she's not so high up that I can't take her down.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e2\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMary\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNow\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAs soon as I get upstairs, I scroll down Elizabeth's profile. It's my daily-all right, multiple-times-daily-ritual: watching her flourish while I struggle.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThere's a new post, a photo of her and Nate posed in front of their meticulously decorated Christmas tree, laughing into each other's faces. They're both so beautiful, it's easier to focus on them in pieces. White teeth, soft sweaters. Nate's shapely fingers tangled in the ends of Elizabeth's long red hair. The caption is some treacly bullshit about the importance of a sense of humor in marriage. She posted it two hours ago and there are already more than five hundred comments.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI switch apps and, for the fiftieth time, watch the tree-trimming video she posted last week. I've got every word memorized, the pitch of their laughter burned on my brain. Their voices echo from my phone's tiny speaker against the bare walls of my apartment, making the space seem emptier. I scrub backward so I can listen to Nate sing the first few bars of \"Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire\" one more time. I watch his mouth until Elizabeth adorably stuffs a cookie into it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe video has twenty-something thousand comments, most in the vein of OMG U GUYS ARE GOALS!!!!, and it makes me want to throw up. Still, I scroll down to my own cartoonishly effusive comment, left from a fake account right after the video was first posted. Elizabeth, or her lackey, has acknowledged it with a heart. I switch back to her new post and leave a similar comment there.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe response (Thank you so much!! *sparkly heart emoji*) comes so quickly, I wonder if she's got some kind of answer bot set up, but I still get an unwelcome squirt of dopamine at being acknowledged by the great, the amazing, the perfect @bethybeth.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWe met at the beginning of freshman year, matched as roommates, immediately inseparable. I'd never had that happen before. Other girls in my hometown had formed friendships as easily as breathing, but I'd always been a loner. Not by choice; it was as if everyone else was in on some secret from which I remained cut off, unable to understand a language they'd known since birth.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYet, inexplicably, Elizabeth chose me. She scooped me up and, for a time, transformed my life. I transformed hers too. What would have happened to our friendship if it hadn't been for me? It was already starting to have run its course by the end of our first term, but I couldn't let it go.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA part of me has missed her every day since it ended.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNo. I haven't missed her. I've missed being her. Speaking in her voice, walking around with her confident stride, having people look at me like I mattered. Life isn't fair; people aren't fair. That won't ever change. The rich get richer. The manipulative manipulate. Advantages accrue in one direction. And in this world, the right face can get you a hell of a long way, which is one reason I've been trying to take Elizabeth's for years.","brand":"Berkley","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46303991464165,"sku":"NP9780593334515","price":18.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780593334515.jpg?v=1767743963","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/when-im-her-isbn-9780593334515","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}