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Description de l’éditeur
When Janey Wilcox makes it big as a Victoria's Secret model, she finally gets the celebrity status she has always craved. Suddenly the car of her dreams is hers, and even better, so is that house in New York's exclusive Hamptons. No longer will she have to choose her boyfriends according to who has a house she can summer in.
At the most exclusive of Hampton parties, Janey finds herself mingling with Hollywood celebrities and the cream of New York society. But all this is secondary when she is charmed and captivated by a handsome, successful man, a man who quickly becomes her new beau. Janey, though, is not the type to live happily ever after, especially with her chequered past of far from good behaviour...
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
"It was the beginning of the summer of the year 2000, and in New York City, where the streets seemed to sparkle with the gold dust filtered down from a billion trades in a boomtown economy, it was business as usual." In other words, it is business as usual for bestselling author Bushnell (Sex and the City; 4 Blondes), who expands here on the career of shallow, predatory Janey Wilcox. In 4 Blondes, Wilcox was a mildly famous one-time model who bedded men based on their ability to provide her with a great house in the Hamptons for the summer. Now she has become a Victoria's Secret model, a bona fide success in her own right. As the latest summer in the Hamptons kicks off, Wilcox becomes the new best friend of the socialite Mimi Kilroy, who is eager to introduce beautiful Janey to the very rich Selden Rose, the new head of the HBO-like MovieTime. Unlike Janey's many previous hookups, Selden is the marrying kind. What ensues is a grim if well-observed account of a match made in hell. Here's the problem. There is a black hole in the center of the book in the form of Janey Wilcox, a character so dull and humorless that she makes this whole elaborate enterprise one long, boring slog. Granted, Bushnell sets out to chronicle the workings of "one of those people for whom the superficial comfortingly masks an inner void," but Wilcox is not evil enough to be interesting, not talented enough to be Mr. Ripley. Wilcox proceeds from model/prostitute to "Model/Prostitute" on the cover of the Post. But who will care? Bushnell has committed the real crime here: failure to entertain.
