I love books written by/for rich people. I know, I know. It’s like my own version of celebrity obsession, but chances are…much more deceased. Like in the 1800’s – early 1900’s when the only people who could afford to write books were rich and entitled. Oftentimes, (did I really just use that word?) it was little more than an account of daily life. What their meals were, what parties they attended, which servant they were banging, and dropping the “N” bomb a lot. Hey, it was the 1900’s.
This book kind of reminds me of that, but a modern tale of sordid romance and murder! Duh duh duhhhhhh!
One Dangerous Lady by Jane Stanton Hitchcock features New York socialite, Jo Slater, and her magnificent band of merry millionaires. Well, some not so merry, I suppose. Yacht-aficionado, art collector, and aristocrat, Russell Cole has mysteriously vanished and one sordid mystery after another unravels.
You know, it’s always so damn hard doing these book reviews. Where can you go without giving it all away?
This book’s really quite indulgent. Like when you’re done, all you want is some chocolate and a cigarette. All wrapped around an extravagant and suspenseful mystery. Mmmm.