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This Changes Everything
Contributors
Formats and Prices
- On Sale
- Jul 14, 2026
- Page Count
- 400 pages
- Publisher
- Grand Central Publishing
- ISBN-13
- 9781538770061
Price
$14.99Price
$19.99 CADFormat
Format:
Preorder from Retailers:
In this “riveting, deeply felt and empowering thriller” (Laura Dave) from #1 bestselling author Lisa Scottoline, who “always delivers the fastest, twistiest reads” (Lisa Jewell), a woman risks her life to help her best friend find justice for a tragic crime–and realizes she has more power than she ever knew.
Julia Pritzker loves her new life as a wife and mother in beautiful Tuscany—except that she misses her best friend Courtney, back in the States. One night, Julia calls Courtney and reaches her as she’s arriving at her grandmother’s farm in Pennsylvania.
Then the unthinkable happens. A dreadful premonition overwhelms Julia moments before Courtney enters the house—and makes a heartbreaking discovery. Her beloved grandmother has been murdered, and the killer is escaping out the back door.
Julia flies home the next morning to support Courtney in her grief. The local police believe the murder was a botched burglary, but the women suspect something much more sinister and enlist hotshot Philly lawyer Bennie Rosato to assist. In addition, Courtney entreats Julia to trust her psychic intuition to point her to the missing pieces of this dark puzzle.
But in a town filled with explosive secrets, events take a deadly turn, and Julia becomes the target of a murderous conspiracy. She ends up fighting for her life, with no one to save her … but herself.
Only a blockbuster talent like Lisa Scottoline can tell this gripping and layered of a story, combining a woman’s search for truth with the revelation of her own empowerment, as well as the enduring strength and joys of female friendship.
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"A riveting, deeply felt and empowering thriller that is also a touching ode to female friendship, This Changes Everything is Lisa Scottoline at her best."Laura Dave, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Last Thing He Told Me
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"Lisa Scottoline always delivers the fastest, twistiest reads packed with brilliant characters to root for.”Lisa Jewell, New York Times bestselling author of Don’t Let Him In
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“A tense, fast-paced thriller with genuine emotional depth and twists that hit when you least expect them. Lisa Scottoline is at the top of her game!”Jeneva Rose, #1 New York Times bestselling author
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“With This Changes Everything, her immersive and atmospheric new domestic thriller, Lisa Scottoline transports us from Tuscany to rural Pennsylvania and gives us characters to root for, a compelling mystery to solve, and a deeply-felt meditation on the meaning of motherhood and enduring women’s friendships. As always, Scottoline scores a bullseye. Bravissima!”Mary Kay Andrews, New York Times Bestselling Author of Road Trip
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“When you open a book by Lisa Scottoline, you know the pacing will be brisk, the characters will be easy to love, and the twists will come fast and furious. THIS CHANGES EVERYTHING delivers readers from Tuscany to a Pennsylvania teeming with dark secrets. Get ready for a wild ride!"Jason Rekulak, New York Times bestselling author of The Last One at the Wedding
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“This Changes Everything has it all—terrific twists, a breathless pace and a whole lot of heart. This story of a grievous crime and an extraordinary friendship could make me gasp on one page and smile on the next. How rare, yet wonderful: A wildly entertaining thriller with real emotional power.”Ken Jaworowski, Edgar-Nominated Author of What About The Bodies
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“The incomparable Lisa Scottoline delivers a breakneck thriller in which one woman risks everything for justice, as she’s pitted against a twisted, deadly conspiracy.”Dennis Tafoya, Critically-Acclaimed Author of Dope Thief
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PREVIEW AN EXCERPT
1
It was magic hour in Tuscany, a place more magical than most, and Julia was in the kitchen chopping a sprig of fresh basil, which released the herb’s piquant scent. She was preparing her family’s favorite appetizer, bruschetta with roasted red peppers in garlicky olive oil, and eggplant rollatini baked in the oven, warming the air with the aroma of bubbling mozzarella.
A breeze wafted through the window, which offered a beautiful view of their vineyard. A late-day sun poured like honey over its hilly rows of grapevines, glazing the vista in luminous gold. Julia had inherited the property in ruins, but she and her husband, Gianluca, had renovated the villa and planted their first crop of Sangiovese grapes, which they hoped to sell for Chianti Classico, authentic only if it came from this region.
She heard her daughter, Leni, giggling outside, which meant that everyone would be coming up to the patio soon. Her in-laws and her birth mother, Fiamma, were here, and they were having dinner outside on the patio tonight, since the evening was oddly temperate. The locals called March weather pazzarello, meaning weird or crazy, but Julia didn’t agree. She loved living here except that she missed her best friend, Courtney, back in the States.
On impulse, Julia pressed Courtney’s number on FaceTime, propped the phone on a pepper grinder, and resumed chopping the basil. It was just after six o’clock in the evening, so it would be around lunchtime in Philly. Julia knew Courtney would be at work, but noonish was usually a good time for her to talk.
The call connected after a single ring, and Courtney popped onto the screen with a grin, her round green eyes striking against her dark skin. Her pretty face was shaped like a perfect heart, her nose was smallish, and her black hair was in a ponytail. She had on an oversized gray sweater, unusually casual for her job.
Julia perked up. “Girl, I miss you!”
“Jules, me, too! It’s been a minute!”
“Have time to catch up?”
“Totally, I ditched work today.”
“What? Sales Queen slacks off? Why?”
“Grandma Kay asked me to come visit, and I just got to her farm.”
“Aw, tell her I said hi.” Julia had met Courtney’s grandmother Kay Patterson many times, and she was like a second mother to Courtney, still active in her early eighties.
“Look at this place. Cute, huh?” Courtney flipped her phone around to show a charming Victorian farmhouse of white clapboard with a wide porch, green gingerbread trim, and a mansard roof. Verdant arborvitae grew in a semi-circle around the house, providing a natural shelter from the wind off a surrounding field, and the sight made Julia homesick.
“Ah, Pennsylvania.”
“Right? It’s Tuscany, only with bowling leagues.”
Julia chuckled. “Where’s Paul?”
“At a conference in Myrtle, which means he’s on the eighth hole.” Courtney started walking with the phone, and the screen jostled. “How’s Gianluca? Studly as ever?”
Julia smiled. “Great.”
“And the adorable Leni?”
“Yakking up a storm.”
“At three? She’s a genius.”
“No, she’s Italian,” Julia shot back, but suddenly her mouth went dry. Her heart began to pound. She felt stricken, almost woozy. She shuddered, breaking out in a sweat. She set down the knife, overwhelmed by an inexplicable sense of dread.
Julia remembered this happened before, only once. She flashed on that awful night back in Philly. She’d been walking home with her husband when she’d had a premonition that something terrible was about to happen. Then it had, before her horrified eyes. Her husband had been stabbed to death in front of her. She shuddered with the memory, like aftershocks.
Meanwhile, Courtney was smiling as she crossed the lawn. “You know, my grandmother cuts this whole big lawn herself with a push mower. Is she crunchy or what?”
Julia only half-listened, second-guessing herself. Maybe she was imagining the premonition. She hadn’t had one in five years. Everything was in order in the kitchen, and she looked around her, taking in the white marble countertop with jagged gold veins. The unvarnished pine cabinets. The deep porcelain farmer’s sink salvaged from the old kitchen.
“Damn,” Courtney was saying, climbing the steps to her grandmother’s front door. “These stairs need to be fixed.”
Julia realized with horrifying certainty that something terrible was about to happen – but not to her, to Courtney. “Courtney, stop!” she blurted out, picking up the phone. “Don’t go in!”
“What, why?” Courtney entered her grandmother’s house, flipping the FaceTime screen around so Julia could see what was happening. “Here, say hi to Grandma—”
Suddenly Courtney screamed. Julia gasped. The phone screen showed a gruesome sight:
Courtney’s grandmother was lying face-up on the rug. Blood drenched her blue shirtdress and spattered her dark skin. Her small, slight body was motionless. Her jaw hung open, slack. Her cloudy brown eyes were fixed upward. Her bifocals lay beside her on the rug.
“Grandma Kay!” Courtney rushed to her grandmother, phone in hand. “No, no, she’s dead! Somebody shot her!”
“Oh my God!” Julia said, horrified. The phone screen tilted sideways, showing a nightmarish living room, an end table knocked over and a broken ceramic lamp, its shade askew.
“Oh God, no, no! There’s so much blood! Jesus, no, she’s warm!” Courtney wailed, and just then a door slammed somewhere in the house. “That’s the back door! Somebody’s in the kitchen!” Courtney must’ve scrambled to her feet because the phone screen jolted crazily, blurring the room. “I’m going after him!”
“No, don’t! Go back to your car!”
“Hell, no!” Courtney hollered, the phone screen lurching.
“Courtney, don’t chase him!” Julia’s heart leapt to her throat. She heard Courtney’s ragged breathing and racing footsteps. The phone screen showed a blurred streak of darkened hallway, then daisy-covered wallpaper.
“Stop, you!” Courtney blew through a back door. Julia heard the slam. The phone screen adjusted to bright sun. Flashes of waist-high grass. Overgrown pasture in jagged motion. “Jules, he’s running to a pickup truck, it’s black, and—”
“Courtney, no, don’t!”
“—he’s white, average height, maybe forty? Dark T-shirt, jeans, black ballcap!”
“No, stop, let him go! He’ll hurt you—”
“I can’t see the license plate! The brush is too tall!”
“Courtney, please!” Julia said, helplessly. The phone showed a jittery swipe of bushes and trees.
“Oof!” Courtney grunted in pain. There was a horrible shuffling sound. The screen went abruptly still and dark.
“Courtney!” Julia shouted, terrified.
“I fell, but I’m okay! Jules, he got to the truck! He’s getting away!”
“Let him go!” Julia heard an engine ignite. It had to be the killer driving away.
“I had him, I almost had him!” Courtney picked up the phone. Her agonized face filled the screen, her lovely features distorted by anguish. She heaved a deep sob. “Jules, he shot. . .Grandma Kay! He. . .killed her!”
“Go inside. Lock the door. Call 911.”
“Okay. . .okay.” Courtney struggled to her feet, crying. The phone screen jostled as she ran back to the house.
“Hurry, go now.”
“I will. . .I am.” Courtney locked the door, making the phone screen go awry, then hurried down the hall. “Grandma Kay, Grandma Kay!” she called futilely, which tore at Julia’s heart. The phone screen flickered dark and light until Courtney reached the living room. “Jesus, no, no, no! She’s dead. . .she’s really dead! He. . .killed her!” Courtney collapsed into sobs. “Why, why, why? Why would anybody. . .kill her?”
“I’m so, so sorry.” Julia flashed on her late husband’s murder, on holding Mike as he bled in her arms. She knew in her bones the agony Courtney was feeling this very moment. There was nothing worse than experiencing the violent death of someone you loved. Only survivors knew that unique horror, and once known, it never left.
“You told me. . .not to go in the house. . .you warned me.” Sobs choked Courtney’s words. “Did you know. . .like before. . .with Mike?”
“Yes, I think so.” Julia hated to admit it. She didn’t want it to be true. She didn’t want to have premonitions, much less everything that came afterward, like last time. Courtney had gone through it with her.
“Did you know. . .she was dead?”
“No, no, I just knew something was wrong. I’m so sorry, Courtney.” Julia glimpsed her reflection in a wall mirror. She’d gone pale, and her teary eyes looked strange, the blue of her irises oddly dilute. Her dark blond hair framed a haunted expression, her thin lips parted with unspoken words.
“Jules, can you. . .come home? Please, come home?”
MEET LISA SCOTTOLINE!
