Back of the Book:
Laura Lake, deputy editor of glossy mag Society, has been promoted to the hot seat while her boss recovers from ‘exhaustion’ in rehab. finally she’s in charge, but who can she share the free jollies with ?
Not her international glamour-puss BFF Lulu, who’s left Knightsbridge for Britain’s poshest village. Lulu’s busy living the good life at her new pile Riff’s, an ex-rock star’s ex-country mansion.
But not everything in her guitar-shaped garden is lovely ; Lulu’s attempts to join the hunt, act in the panto and grow the biggest marrow are blocked by the snobbish locals.
Who does she call on for help ? Journo extraordinaire, Laura Lake …
What I think :
Laura Lake is back !
She’s now reached the heady heights of ‘acting’ editor of fabulous mag ‘Society’. Her boss has a few ‘problems’ and has gone into ‘rehab’ to sort them out. Laura is finally where she should be, at the top !
Sometimes however, it gets lonely at the top. Best friend Lulu is nowhere to be seen, she’s left town and is living it up in the country, in Britain’s poshest village no less ! She has a fabulous new mansion. But why are the locals so snobby and unfriendly ? why wont they let Lulu join in anything ?
It seems to Lulu like she needs a bit of help, time to call in her BFF Laura Lake ….
Well, what can I say ? It was lovely having the Lovely Laura and pals back in this newest novel, getting up to god-knows what ! Some of her antics are hilarious and she always seems to mess things up.
However I did find this last serving slightly far-fetched and not really all that true to life. I thought the village characters were OK but quite unlikable. however as usual very well written.
The book was OK, a nice bit of very light reading after all the heavy thrillers I’ve been reading of late.
I give it 7/10.
Published on 01/02/18 by Head of Zeus.
A big Thank you to Melanie Price and Netgalley for the digital review copy of the book.
Here for your reading pleasure is a small extract of the book :
Laura Lake, deputy editor of Society magazine, returned to her desk after the daily features meeting. She felt as if she had done ten rounds with Floyd Mayweather. Glancing round at her colleagues as they slunk back to their workstations, she could tell that they felt the same.
Raisy and Daisy, the interchangeable blonde sisters who shared the job of fashion director, were looking particularly crushed. Their ideas about furry lederhosen had not got past first base, still less their suggestions for directional glittery clogs. Raisy (whose name was actually Rosie, but it had taken Laura some time to realise), was dabbing at her eyes with a sequinned Chanel hanky. The fine dark brows of Thomasella the food editor were angrily drawn as well. Her contention that Bronze Age party food i.e. Ritz crackers and cheese hedgehogs was back had been thrown on the same pile as the lederhosen. Admittedly Carinthia, Society’s mercurial editor and Laura’s boss, had always been demanding.‘ The Gaze’, her famous death stare, had always had the power to reduce her staff to rubble. This was all the more remarkable given that none of them could actually see it. The opaque black sunglasses Carinthia habitually wore were, alongside those of Anna Wintour of American Vogue, the most terrifying eye wear in journalism. But people had respected this ruthlessness. Carinthia, they knew, demanded the best. Only the cleverest ideas made the cut, which was why the magazine was so successful. Those not equal to this quest for perfection could be summarily fired, like the style editor who had said neon-pink-sprayed midges were summer’s smart garden accessory. But of late Carinthia’s demands had taken on a new, lunatic edge. Staff had been told to position their chairs exactly eight centimetres from their desk edge whether or not they were sitting in them and never, upon pain of death, hang anything on the backs. Untidy desks were photographed, named and shamed, including Laura’s. Especially Laura’s, the untidiest in the office.
More bizarrely still, according to Demelza, Carinthia’s long-suffering PA, the editor had recently started consulting an astrologer. ‘She goes up to her roof and sits under a blue plastic pyramid,’ Demelza confided .‘Then she’s told which days are to be avoided.’ Demelza had showed Laura the diary. Days to be avoided had been blacked out, and Carinthia didn’t come in on them. There had been many black days lately, leaving Laura running the ship. While Laura enjoyed being in charge, and things tended to go smoother when she was, it was irritating to have the editor come back and take credit for her efforts. Or, worse, change her arrangements and cancel the features she had commissioned. But there was one feature Carinthia would not be cancelling. One that had survived the recent meeting unscathed. Laura’s upcoming interview with Savannah Bouche, the vastly famous and stunningly beautiful Hollywood actress and humanitarian. Laura had set the interview up herself and was hugely proud of having done so. All Society’s glossy rivals had been after it too; to secure it was a coup. Laura secretly hoped she had pulled it off thanks to her growing journalistic reputation. The ‘Three Weddings and a Scandal’ story had shot her into the magazine stratosphere, and the adventures of the‘ Luxury Press Trip’ in which a billionaire businessman had been unmasked as a charlatan, had only burnished her credentials further. An in-depth report of an encounter with one of the world’s most famous women would be the perfect continuation of what was promising to be a stellar career.