Not Quite Dead Yet: A GMA Book Club Pick: A Novel

Not Quite Dead Yet: A GMA Book Club Pick: A Novel

GOOD MORNING AMERICA BOOK CLUB PICK • The #1 New York Times bestselling author of A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder —now a hit Netflix series—returns with her first novel for adults: an “irresistible” ( The Washington Post ) thriller about a young woman trying to solve her own murder, “full of the writer’s signature twists and turns” ( People ). “This truly unique premise snowballs into a roller-coaster ride of page-turning suspense and knock-out twists!”—Freida McFadden, author of The Housemaid In seven days, Jet Mason will be dead. Jet is the daughter of one of the wealthiest families in Woodstock, Vermont. Twenty-seven years old and back home, she’s still waiting for her life to begin. I’ll do it later, she always says. She has time. Until Halloween night, when she is violently attacked by an unseen intruder, suffering a catastrophic head injury. Doctors are certain that within a week, the injury will trigger a fatal aneurysm. To her parents’ dismay, Jet rejects an extremely risky operation in order to guarantee herself at least a few more days. Jet never thought of herself as having enemies. But now, in the one week she has left, she looks at everyone in a new light: her family, her former best friend turned sister-in-law, her ex-boyfriend. As her condition deteriorates, she reconnects with her childhood friend Billy, the only one willing to help her. With Billy at her side, she’s absolutely determined to finally finish something: Jet is going to solve her own murder. “[Holly Jackson’s] new book, about a woman who has to solve her own murder, is full of the writer's signature twists and turns.” — People “[A] page-turning thriller.” — Southern Living “The adult debut from megapopular YA thriller author Holly Jackson, . . . Not Quite Dead Yet has one of the most intriguing hooks of the year.” — Paste “Holly Jackson’s adult debut is a countdown thriller with teeth.” — Crime Reads “I absolutely loved it: twisty, edgy, and with her Jackson’s trademark voice. It deserves to fly.” —Gillian McAllister, author of Wrong Place Wrong Time “A thrilling, twisting, heartbreaker,. Holly Jackson’s adult debut is fresh, fun, and impossible to put down.” —Chris Whitaker, author of All the Colors of the Dark “I felt all the emotions while reading Not Quite Dead Yet . It’s funny, touching, heartbreaking, thrilling, and totally addictive, a. An original and unique thriller that I’ll be thinking about for a long time.” —Claire Douglas, author of The Wrong Sister “ Not Quite Dead Yet is everything I love about Holly Jackson’s novels dialled up to eleven—a searingly clever premise, of course absolutely unputdownable, interspersed with her trademark humour, and with a protagonist in Jet that you can’t help rooting for. An instant classic.” —Amy McCulloch, author of Breathless and Runner 13 “This truly unique premise snowballs into a roller coaster ride of page-turning suspense and knock-out twists!” —Freida McFadden, author of The Housemaid “Propulsive, unputdownable and unexpectedly heart wrenching, Not Quite Dead Yet is a masterclass in thriller writing and an example of storytelling at its finest.” —Alex Michaelides, author of The Silent Patient Holly Jackson is the author of the #1 New York Times bestselling series A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder, an international sensation with millions of copies sold worldwide and a hit Netflix series. She graduated from the University of Nottingham, where she studied literary linguistics and creative writing and graduated with a master’s degree in English. She enjoys playing video games and watching true-crime documentaries so she can pretend to be a detective. She lives in London. One Dead gray skin, rotted away to show off the stringy sinews of muscle below. Sunken, rubbery sockets around sparkling hazel eyes. Those were actually hers, though; they moved as she studied herself. Decaying corn-­on-­the-­cob teeth with gore stuck in the spaces between. What did zombies eat again? Just brains, or they weren’t fussy about the other guts too? Probably didn’t enjoy the candy apple she’d had earlier. Jet watched her reflection in the funhouse mirror, her dead face—­sorry—­her undead face. OK, she’d worn the mask for three whole minutes, so Mom couldn’t complain and now Jet couldn’t breathe; hot toffee air that turned wet against the rubber, sticking it to her skin. She pulled the mask off. Still pale, slightly less gray, though, but the mirror elongated her round face, distorting her thick brows and upturned nose. Her short blond hair was sticking up now; static buzzed against her hand as she flattened it. “Jet?” “—­Damn.” She flinched. The mirror warped his face behind her, squashed his muscular frame into accordion ripples, but Jet knew his voice. Of f***ing course. JJ Lim. But not with his usual black swept-­back hair and clear tawny skin. He wore a garish red wig and denim overalls over a striped shirt, train-­track gashes drawn on his