Freebie alert and excerpt: I'm Not Her

I'M NOT HER by Janet Gurtler is the featured ebook in the iBookstore though May 27th.  That means you can get it here for free.  Don't use iBooks?  Amazon and Barnes and Noble are also giving it away in their digital bookstores.

The only book by Gurtler I've read is IF I TELL, which I liked but didn't love.  However, many people have told me that IF I TELL is the worst of her books.  And I did enjoy her style.  And I'M NOT HER being free is the perfect opportunity for me to give Gurtler a second chance.  Be sure to check out Gurtler's new novel, HOW I LOST YOU, as well.

Thanks to Sourcebooks, I have an excerpt from I'M NOT HER to share. 

A crowd gathers for the funeral. The church walls seem to strain to accommodate the bodies, but there isn’t enough space for everyone. People cram together, squished thigh to thigh in the pews, shoulder to shoulder in aisles. The back is standing room only.
 

Not surprisingly, I don’t hear anyone complain. I hardly hear any sound at all except the occasional whisper, cough, or sniffle. Everyone wears dark colors, even kids who don’t usually follow rules or social customs. I guess it’s like that when someone young is snatched from the earth. It’s wrong on so many levels that thinking about it makes my already sad heart ache even harder.

Dad says parents shouldn’t have to bury their children. He says a lost child leaves a hole in the heart of the parents, a hole hacked out with a dull knife. The heart can function with the wound, but it never entirely heals.

chapter one

No matter how much I don’t want to care, it’s not easy being stranded all alone in the middle of a crowded room, like the ugliest dog at the animal shelter. Kristina shoved me into her shiny red Toyota like she’s my fairy godmother, insisting I do the party “for my own good.” But other than a few heys and disinterested stares, no one notices that I’m there. Before long, even Kristina forgets about me. Swept up by her friends and admirers, Kristina leaves me bathing in my own flop sweat.