Sex. There's a lot of it about. And Stella is definitely not getting her fair share. She's got a few handicaps: she's the wrong side of thirty, she's a single mum (to the adorable Honey), and her French hot-bloodedness is liable to turn grown men pale. Mind you, the men she meets are either perma-tanned, tight-trousered smoothies with strangely white teeth or - easy, tiger - balding, poorly socialized podgers. One lot have black satin sheets; the other lot have, well, wives. What's a girl to do? Dividing her time between London's most PC playgroup (most popular children's names: Ichabod and Perdita) and lessons on the art of pulling from housemate Frank, Stella is seriously starting to wonder if she'll ever have sex again.
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India Knight busted the happy-ever-after cliché in her divorce novel, My Life on a Plate. This time itís sex and the single mum thatís on Ms Knight's knowing agenda. Forget gritty realism though, in Donít You Want Me the only element of kitchen sink drama in this frothy tale is whether thereíll be enough roasted leg of lamb and rosemary to go round. And itís an important question to Estella de la Croix, sheís a woman of appetites. Leading lady Stella has two ex-husbands, a very large house, gorgeous clothes and a sweetly blonde toddler called Honey. She even has an artist lodger, who is lovely, but too ginger to be fanciable.
Everything is superficially perfect, except for one thing, the lack of sex. "I have no-one to sin with" wails Stella, and decides to do something about it. There follows a gruesomely confessional account of over-age drinking and drugs. And one-night-stands with a perma-tanned plastic surgeon--(sleeping with him is like "contorting an Action Man into unlikely positions") or an equally unappealing DJ, a thirtysomething man who thinks heís 17. And although Stella can be very witty on the dating game and middle-class laissez-faire parenting, less amusing is her scatological humour, or bad taste jokes about the handicapped. By the end of the novel Stella has decided that casual sex is not for her, a relationship is what she really, really wants. And her lucky partner? Well letís just say that ginger Frank isnít a red herring.--Eithne FarryReview:
Miles funnier and ruder than anything else of its kind ( Evening Standard)
Delicious cleverness and funniness . . . slips down as easily as strawberry soufflé ( Sunday Telegraph)
Fabulously funny . . . ace ( Heat)
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Book Description Penguin MD, 2002. Paperback. Book Condition: New. First Edition. Bookseller Inventory # DADAX0140297405
Book Description Penguin UK, 2002. Paperback. Book Condition: New. Bookseller Inventory # P110140297405
Book Description Penguin UK, 2002. Paperback. Book Condition: New. book. Bookseller Inventory # 0140297405