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Shopaholic Abroad [Paperback]

Sophie Kinsella
4.4 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (164 customer reviews)
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Product Description

Amazon Review

Sophie Kinsella's Shopaholic Abroad will prove a big treat for fans of The Secret Dreamworld of a Shopaholic with the irrepressible Rebecca Bloomwood, the financial journalist with the stratospheric credit card bills, returning to the high streets. But things have changed for the impulsive shopper: "I'm a completely different person from the old Becky. I'm a reformed character. I haven't even got an overdraft!" Her high-flying boyfriend Luke has got a job in America and Becky's going with him to the land of "yellow taxi cabs and skyscrapers, and Woody Allen and Breakfast at Tiffanys"; she's also got the possibility of a television slot advising viewers on money matters. Of course New York also has department stores, lots of them:
There's always that buzz as you push open the door, that hope, that belief that this is going to be the shop of all shops, which will bring you everything you ever wanted, at magically low prices.
And Rebecca starts to indulge in the poetry of purchasing. Unfortunately she's brought down to earth with a bump, the light and glitter and the voices telling her she was the next big thing are an illusion, her debts are still scary and her boyfriend hates her. So it's back to England for Becky, for an inventive denouement and a delayed happy ending.

This is a hugely engaging novel. The breathless pace speeds you through the story, and Becky's character is so funny and feckless that you'll be laughing out loud, while turning a blind eye to your own credit card bill. This is a must-read for retail therapy addicts everywhere. --Eithne Farry


"A laugh-a-minute read" (Glamour)

"Sophie Kinsella's likeable characters and her keen eye for the absurd make this book hugely enjoyable." (Waterstones Books Quarterly)

"Witty and hilarious" (Cosmopolitan)

"Kinsella comes good with lots of light-hearted laughs and a mushy ending to die for." (Mirror)

"Fast, funny and slick, this is a sure-fire bestseller." (Sunday Mirror)

Book Description

Watch out world - Becky Bloomwood's on the move...

From the Publisher

Watch out world – Becky Bloomwood’s on the move…

From the Back Cover

Will travel broaden the mind...or loosen the purse strings?

For Rebecca Bloomwood, life is peachy. She has a job on morning TV, her bank manager is actually being nice to her, and when it comes to spending money, her new motto is Buy Only What You Need - and she's really (sort of) sticking to it. The icing on the brioche is that she's been offered a chance to work in New York.

New York! The Museum of Modern Art! The Guggenheim! The Metropolitan Opera House! And Becky does mean to go to them all. Honestly. It's just that it seems silly not to check out a few other places first. Like Saks. And Bloomingdales. And Barneys. And one of those fantastic sample sales where you can get a Prada dress for $10. Or was it $100? Is Becky too dazzled to care?

Shopaholic Abroad - for the biggest culture shop of your life.

About the Author

Sophie Kinsella is a writer and former financial journalist. She is the number one bestselling author of Can You Keep a Secret?, The Undomestic Goddess and the hugely popular Shopaholic novels. She lives in London with her husband and family. She is also the author of several bestselling novels under the name of Madeleine Wickham, all published by Black Swan.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

OK, don’t panic. Don’t panic. It’s simply a question of being organized and staying calm and deciding what exactly I need to take. And then fitting it all neatly into my suitcase. I mean, just how hard can that be?
I step back from my cluttered bed and close my eyes, half hoping that if I wish hard enough, my clothes might magically arrange themselves into a series of neat folded piles. Like in those magazine articles on packing, which tell you how to go on holiday with one cheap sarong and cleverly turn it into six different outfits. (Which I always think is a complete con, because, OK, the sarong costs ten quid, but then they add loads of clothes which cost hundreds, and we’re not supposed to notice.)
But when I open my eyes again, the clutter is all still there. In fact, there seems to be even more of it, as if while my eyes were shut, my clothes have been secretly jumping out of the drawers and running around on my bed. Everywhere I look, all around my room, there are huge great tangled piles of . . . well . . . stuff. Shoes, boots, T-shirts, magazines . . . a Body Shop gift basket that was on sale . . . a Linguaphone Italian course which I must start . . . a facial sauna thingy . . . And, sitting proudly on my dressing table, a fencing mask and sword which I bought yesterday. Only forty quid from a charity shop!
I pick up the sword and experimentally give a little lunge towards my reflection in the mirror. It was a real coincidence, because I’ve been meaning to take up fencing for ages, ever since I read this article about it in the Daily World. Did you know that fencers have better legs than any other sports people? Plus if you’re an expert you can become a stunt double in a film and earn loads of money! So what I’m planning to do is find some fencing lessons nearby, and get really good, which I should think I’ll do quite quickly.
And then – this is my secret little plan – when I’ve got my gold badge, or whatever it is, I’ll write to Catherine Zeta Jones. Because she must need a stunt double, mustn’t she? And why shouldn’t it be me? In fact she’d probably prefer someone British. Maybe she’ll phone back and say she always watches my television appearances on cable, and she’s always wanted to meet me! God, yes. Wouldn’t that be great? We’ll probably really hit it off, and turn out to have the same sense of humour and everything. And then I’ll fly out to her luxury home, and get to meet Michael Douglas and play with the baby. We’ll be all relaxed together like old friends, and some magazine will do a feature on celebrity best friends and have us in it, and maybe they’ll even ask me to be . . .
‘Hi Bex!’ With a jolt, the happy pictures of me laughing with Michael and Catherine vanish from my head, and my brain snaps into focus. Suze my flatmate is wandering into my room, wearing a pair of ancient paisley pyjamas. ‘What are you doing?’ she asks curiously.
‘Nothing!’ I say, hastily putting the fencing sword back. ‘Just . . . you know. Keep fit.’
‘Oh right,’ she says vaguely. ‘So – how’s the packing going?’ She wanders over to my mantelpiece, picks up a lipstick and begins to apply it. Suze always does this in my room – just wanders about picking things up and looking at them and putting them down again. She says she loves the way you never know what you might find, like in a junk shop. Which I’m fairly sure she means in a nice way.
‘It’s going really well,’ I say. ‘I’m just deciding which suitcase to take.’
‘Ooh,’ says Suze turning round, her mouth half bright pink. ‘What about that little cream one? Or your red holdhall?’
‘I thought maybe this one,’ I say, hauling my new acid green shell case out from under the bed. I bought it at the weekend, and it’s absolutely gorgeous.
‘Wow!’ says Suze, her eyes widening. ‘Bex! That’s fab! Where did you get it?’
‘Fenwicks,’ I say, grinning broadly. ‘Isn’t it amazing?’
‘It’s the coolest case I’ve ever seen!’ says Suze, running her fingers admiringly over it. ‘So . . . how many suitcases have you got now?’ She glances up at my wardrobe, on which are teetering a brown leather case, a lacquered trunk and three vanity cases.
‘Oh, you know,’ I say, shrugging a little defensively. ‘The normal amount.’
I suppose I have been buying quite a bit of luggage recently. But the thing is, for ages I didn’t have any, just one battered old canvas bag. Then, a few months ago I had an incredible revelation in the middle of Harrods, a bit like St Paul on the road to Mandalay. Luggage. And since then, I’ve been making up for all the lean years.
Besides which, everyone knows good luggage is an investment.
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