My name was Natalie Heller Mills, and I was perfect at being alive. Natalie Heller Mills is a traditional American woman, a beautiful wife and mother who sells her pioneer lifestyle of raw milk and farm-fresh eggs to her millions of social media followers. Her farmhouse is charmingly rustic, her husband a handsome cowboy, her six children each more delightful than the last. So what if there are nannies and producers behind the scenes, her kitchen is hiding industrial-grade fridges and ovens, and her husband is the heir to a political dynasty? What Natalie’s followers don’t know won’t hurt them. And the Angry Women? The privileged, Ivy League, coastal elite haters who call her an anti-feminist iconoclast? They’re sick with jealousy. Because Natalie isn’t simply living the good life—she’s building an empire. Until one morning she wakes up in a life that isn’t hers. Her home, her husband, her children—they’re all familiar, but wrong. Her kitchen is warmed by as puttering fire rather than electricity; her children are dirty and strange; and her soft-handed husband is suddenly a competent farmer. Carved into the wooden threshold is a date: 1855. Just yesterday Natalie was curating photos of homemade jam for her Instagram, and now she’s expected to haul firewood and handwash clothes until her fingers bleed. Has she become the unwitting star of a ruthless reality show? Could it really be time travel? Is she being tested by God? By Satan? When Natalie suffers a brutal injury in the woods, she realizes two things: This is not her beautiful life, and she must escape by any means possible. A gripping, electrifying novel that is as darkly funny as it is frightening, Yesteryear is a gimlet-eyed look at tradition, fame, faith, and the grand performance of womanhood.