Open front door to let out vodka fumes and cigarette smoke, only to catch the Ex hovering behind it with a glass beaker attached to his car, instinctively guess he is not here to borrow a cup of sugar because he knows I never keep food in the house, and it goes on from there!!!
Absolutely hysterical story about the most self absorbed character. Just about everyone knows someone like this at sometime in their life. Strangers came up to me in public to ask what was I was reading to make me laugh so hard. VERY British in styling, it does help to have some insight into English/European culture. Often compared to Bridget Jones Diary probably due to format, rather than plot. I thought this book was actually better than BJD.
It's very rare that I find such an unlikable character in literature... Katya Livingston is just plain terrible. She is the kind of terrible that you can't stop reading because you are curious what she has the audacity to do next. The world belongs to Katya, and the people in it exist simply to serve her. She is the definition of a person you love to hate. I read this book in one night and I adore it.
From the Back Cover
Move Over, Bridget Jones!... A wild ride to find Mr. Right by looking in all the wrong places. Put it on your beach-read list.
Lang employs wonderfully bitchy, British-laced phraseology, making her subjects tone all the more supercilious. Katya Livingston is the young woman you love to hate.
Langs book is an ideal Saturday afternoon read: quick, quirky, and fun. Katyas sarcastic, patronizing wit keeps the book moving through her adventures in life and love and involves the reader immediately in her drama.
Bitingly written with wit and style reminiscent of Candace Bushnell, Adèle Langs novel is a cutting, bitchy, hilarious take on the young-single-British-woman genre.
When weasel-eyed tax inspectors question her claims, Katya is forced to keep a financial diary. As well as documenting the cruel and parsimonious ways of her ad agency boss, Katya waxes lyrical about putting up with loser friends, mortal enemies, and thoroughly bad restaurants. She also throws in a candid account of her love life, in case it is tax deductible. A private account of expenses rapidly becomes, through Katyas chronic delusions of grandeur, a matter of public record: first as a tawdry gossip column, then as a salacious book, and finally as a Hollywood B movie.