LoveHampton - Softcover

Rifkin, Sherri

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0312380216 ISBN 13: 9780312380212

Verlag: St. Martin's Griffin, 2008

Inhaltsangabe

After a recent break-up sent her into a self-imposed "personal hiatus," thirty-something New York TV-promo producer Tori Miller is determined to get a life. The fastest way? A Hamptons summer share house. She ditches her old look-thanks to a last-minute makeover on a reality show pilot-and over the next three months, the new-and-improved "Miller" becomes the wing-woman to a glamorous new B.F.F., goes head-to-head with her house's prickly Resident Alpha Female, and is drawn into a web of secrets by a charming Brit. But soon she finds herself entangled in one too many complicated romantic situations-and the many Hamptons Unwritten Rules threaten to implode her new, carefully cultivated social standing. Now the fabulous life Tori has might not be the one she wants, and she must decide who she really is, what she wants, and what she's willing to give up to get there...all by Labor Day.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Sherri Rifkin, a former TV marketing executive, lives in New York City, where she writes for a variety of entertainment and media clients, including Bravo, USA Network and the Style Network. LoveHampton is her first novel.

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LoveHampton

A Novel

By Sherri Rifkin

St. Martin's Press

Copyright © 2008 Sherri Rifkin
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-0-312-38021-2

CHAPTER 1

Season Preview

Hamptons Unwritten Rule #1: There is no other place to be between Memorial Day and Labor Day.

I'm standing outside of Dos Caminos, the original one on Park Avenue South, my hand frozen on the cool bronze C of the DC-shaped door handle, my breath shallow and heart pounding. This should be easy. All I have to do is pull the door open and go inside — but I can't. Even the name of the restaurant — which I've translated, using my ninth-grade-level Spanish, as "two roads" — seems to be taunting me. Why did I decide to do this again? Is this total immersion thing really necessary?

But it's too late. I need to get a life. Now. Because I haven't had one for almost two years. For better or worse, I've already embarked on this particular road — not necessarily by my own choice, but for my own good.

And this road continues with tonight: having dinner with seven complete strangers, only one of whom I've been in contact with, and that was via e-mail. It's far worse than a blind date and not because it's like being on seven simultaneous blind dates, but because no matter if we love or hate one another after this evening, we all have committed to a very intimate three-month-long relationship.

We are going to be sharing a house in the Hamptons for the summer.

I look down at the sidewalk and focus on a crack by my foot, trying to employ a breathing technique I learned recently to help calm me down. I start by closing my eyes, taking deep, rhythmic breaths, pulling fresh air — as fresh as it can be in New York City — into my diaphragm and exhaling to the count of four. Before I can finish my first round, the heavy glass door swings open from the inside as a group of people push their way by me without so much as an "excuse me," knocking me back several paces from the door, causing me to stumble into an older couple passing by.

"Watch it!" the man shouts at me while his wife grabs his arm and stage-whispers, "She must be on drugs!" Clearly, this is no time for meditation. I might as well get this over with.

I raise my head, straighten my back, turn up the corners of my mouth into a semblance of a smile, pull the door open, and step through.

Hamptons Unwritten Rule #2: First impressions — especially when made at the Pre-Summerhouse Dinner — last a summertime ... and then some.

The small bar is packed even though it's a Sunday night. I scan the crowd, looking for a group of people who could be my housemates, but unfortunately, I have no reference point for recognizing them. When I exchanged e-mails with Leah earlier in the week and she told me about the dinner, I forgot to ask what she looked like. The plan was to meet for drinks in the bar at seven o'clock with the dinner reservation set for seven-thirty. My predinner panic attack set me back by only ten minutes, so theoretically everyone should be here and I avoided being the first one to arrive.

After one more fruitless look around, I ask the hostess.

"I seated them ten minutes ago. Let me bring you back."

Strange, I think, as I follow her into the loud, cavernous restaurant. She abandons me at a table filled with a comely crowd.

A skinny woman with beautiful long blond hair and a great body but not a particularly soft or pretty face shoots out of her chair and stalks toward me in a suede miniskirt and sheer white fitted blouse, unbuttoned just enough to reveal a flawless, possibly surgically enhanced cleavage. "Miller! Where have you been?" She looks like the kind of girl Molly Ringwald would instantly be intimidated by in a John Hughes movie. I just wish I was feeling even as remotely confident as Molly Ringwald would be in this situation.

"It's Tori, actually. Are you Leah? It's so nice to meet —"

"What happened to you? You're so late! We thought you were bailing on us."

"Only by a few — well, ten — minutes, right?"

"More like forty." She throws back her blanket of straight multitonal blond hair over her shoulder, then cocks her head to the side so her tresses fall right back into place. Perfectly.

"I thought your e-mail said drinks were at seven."

"That was the original plan, but then everyone wanted to start earlier, so we decided to move it up to six-thirty. Didn't you get my e-mail today?" She blinks at me several times.

"I don't check my e-mail on the weekends. It's against my religion," I joke.

Blink, blink. "Well, the important thing is that you're here now. And your check cleared." She flips her hair again. "Kidding! Seriously, you're going to have a great time this summer. It's going to be mad fun, if tonight is any indication. So. Let me introduce you." She spins around on her high heels, causing her hair to fan out in a wide circle and leads me toward three girls at the end of the table, all of whom are wearing versions of the perfect we-know-it's-Sunday-night-but-this-isstill-an-important-social-occasion outfit, noting with relief that I'm in the same fashion camp, thanks to a little recent outside help.

"Abigail, Cassandra, Stacy: meet Miller."

"Hi, it's great to meet you all. Actually, my name is Tori. I know it's confusing, since the name on my email is Miller at MillerWorks dot —"

"Do you live really far away, like in an outer borough or something?" Abigail gives me a limp, clammy hand to shake. She, unlike Leah, is naturally very pretty, but the scowl on her face is not doing her any favors. As much as I am apt to project that her frown is for my benefit, I get the feeling she is cursed with a permanently displeased expression, since it seems to fit perfectly with her nasal tone.

"No, I came straight from home, a little bit farther downtown. Why?"

"Well, it's just that you were so late."

Now it's my turn to blink.

"Miller says she doesn't check her e-mail on the weekends," Leah answers Abigail. This time, I don't bother correcting her about my name.

"I didn't know anyone still did that," Abigail comments, still frowning. Talk about a conversation ender. I shift on my feet, unsure of what to say or do next. I'm woefully out of practice meeting and socializing with new people outside of business situations. Speaking to my three best friends, two of whom work for me, is one thing. Trying to create new friendships when you've been sitting on the bench for two years is another matter entirely. I was kind of hoping that this was one of the things that was supposed to be like riding a bike, but now that it's happening, I'm not too sure.

"Hey there, I'm Cassie." She reaches across Abigail to shake my hand with a cool, confident grip. "I am so coveting your blouse! It's fantastic. I hope you plan on bringing it out to the house. We look to be about the same size. ..." She gives me a wide, welcoming smile.

I feel my shoulders start nudging down from my ears for the first time since I left my apartment. "Thanks. I ... it's new."

Stacy pops up out of her chair and gives me the kind of hug that little kids give. She's much shorter than the other three girls and has a head of massive shoulder-length dark brown curls, big brown eyes to match, and a face full of freckles. "Hi, Miller! Did Leah tell you we're going to be roomies? Isn't that great? We're going to have so much fun together! I have a car, which you're welcome to use anytime because I heard you don't...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: St. Martin's Griffin
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2008
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0312380216
• ISBN 13: 9780312380212
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 320
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: GPSR Kontakt; gpsr@libri.de; ; Europaallee 1; Bad Hersfeld; 36244; Deutschland