By Sue Margolis
From the writer who introduced you Spin Cycle and Neurotica comes a hilarious new novel approximately falling in love, hating your task, and getting what you will have out of life---without ever mussing your lipstick!When it involves males, attractiveness columnist Rebecca high quality constantly looks at the scruffy finish of the mascara wand. yet all that alterations the morning she meets Max Stoddart, her new colleague on the day-by-day leading edge. along with his upscale swimsuit, Hugh furnish hair, and obscenely attractive attractiveness, he’s a unmarried woman’s dream come real. ultimately, her grandmother can cease browsing the internet for eligible Jewish men. yet is Max the capture of the decade---or only a significant babe magnet? in the meantime, Rebecca’s previous highschool nemesis has resurfaced, a former blond bombshell known as Lipstick who's now engaged to Rebecca’s widowed dad. And it’s goodbye to articles on toe cleavage while a scorching tip sweeps Rebecca to the guts of the Paris cosmetics global, the place a miracle anti-wrinkle cream is set to be introduced. that's, till she blows the whistle on a scandal which could set the wonder business---and the way forward for international peace---reeling. Will Rebecca win the recognition---not to say the Pulitzer---she yearns for...and get the fellow of her desires? remain tuned.
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Being so pissed, his aim was less than perfect and his mouth ended up connecting with her left ear. As she heaved him off, he lost his balance for a moment or two and spilled even more kir royale. Having regained it (his balance, not the kir royale), he winked, made two loud tongue clicking sounds and staggered off. As she stood wiping Guy’s slobber out of her ear with a tissue, she looked across to where the woman had been standing, but she’d vanished. Rebecca had planned to take a taxi home and charge it to the Vanguard, but by the time she left, it was snowing, and there wasn’t a yellow light to be seen.
She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. “OK,” she said. ” She extended her hand and introduced herself. “Max Stoddart,” he said, taking her hand in his. She couldn’t help noticing how big and warm it was. ” Of course. The Vanguard had just poached him from the Independent, where he’d won the Listerine award for an investigation into hospital superbugs. ” But he bent down anyway. She was now acutely aware that her hair, which always took on a life of its own whenever it was exposed to the damp and drizzle, was probably sticking out all over the place.
He gave her a wounded look. “Please, Becks. Please come out with me. ” “Oh, right. Shame. I like films, though. Don’t you? Especially film noir. ” “Guy,” she said wearily, “you’re slaughtered. ” As she squeezed past him, he lunged at her. Being so pissed, his aim was less than perfect and his mouth ended up connecting with her left ear. As she heaved him off, he lost his balance for a moment or two and spilled even more kir royale. Having regained it (his balance, not the kir royale), he winked, made two loud tongue clicking sounds and staggered off.