A wry and bold debut novel, which is at once an irresistible catastrophe waiting to happen and an unflinching exploration of how we narrate the stories of our lives, as an aspiring novelist finds herself stalking-and writing about-her boyfriend's ex-girlfriend.

I can't help but compare our worth as writers, as lovers, as women. Is anything solely mine, or will I always dwell in someone else's shadow?

Twenty-four-year-old bookseller and New Yorker Naomi Ackerman, desperate to write a novel, struggles to find the perfect story to tell. When, after years of disastrous Tinder dates, she meets Caleb-a perfectly nice guy with a Welsh accent and a unique patience for all of her quirks-she feels she's finally stumbled into a time-honored subject: love. But then Caleb's ex-girlfriend, Rosemary, enters the scene.

When Naomi learns that Rosemary is not safely tucked away overseas as she'd assumed but in fact lives in New York and works in the literary world, she is fundamentally threatened and intrigued in equal measure. On paper, Rosemary sounds like a better version of Naomi-but if they both fell for the same man, they must have something more essential in common.

Determined to find out how their stories intertwine, Naomi's casual Instagram stalking morphs into a full-blown friendship under false pretenses. She can't seem to get herself to quit Rosemary, in whom she finds an unexpected confidant-and she can't stop writing about her either, now having found the perfect subject for her nascent novel. As her lies and half-truths spiral out of her control, and fact and fiction become increasingly difficult to separate, Naomi manipulates the most important people in her life-her family, her friends, Caleb, Rosemary, and, perhaps most devastatingly, herself-in pursuit of her craft. Ultimately, she's forced to decide who and what she's willing to sacrifice to write them all the perfect ending.