Zusatztext It's Working Girl meets Cruella de Vil. Newsday A telling tale of life as an underling . . . compelling. BBC Deliciously witty and gossipy. Publishers Weekly [A] must-have accessory. Rocky Mountain News Informationen zum Autor Lauren Weisberger is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of When Life Gives You Lululemons , The Singles Game , Revenge Wears Prada , Last Night at Chateau Marmont , Chasing Harry Winston , Everyone Worth Knowing , and The Devil Wears Prada which have all been New York Times bestsellers. The Devil Wears Prada was published in forty languages, made into a major motion picture starring Meryl Streep and Anne Hathaway, and adapted for the stage starring Vanessa Williams, with music by Elton John. Weisberger's books have sold more than thirteen million copies worldwide. A graduate of Cornell University, she lives in Connecticut with her husband and two children. Klappentext #1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • THE INSPIRATION FOR THE HIT MOVIE STARRING MERYL STREEP AND ANNE HATHAWAY • DON'T MISS THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA 2 , NOW IN THEATERS! The degree to which The Devil Wears Prada has penetrated pop culture needs no explanation. Vanity Fair A gloriously wicked story about the ultimate Boss from Hell and the deals we make with the devil to get to the top Andrea Sachs, a small-town girl fresh out of college, lands the job a million girls would die for. Hired as the assistant to Miranda Priestly, the high-profile, fabulously successful editor of Runway magazine, Andrea finds herself in an office that shouts Prada! Armani! Versace! at every turn, a world populated by impossibly thin, heart-wrenchingly stylish women and beautiful men clad in fine-ribbed turtlenecks and tight leather pants that show off their lifelong dedication to the gym. With breathtaking ease, Miranda can turn each and every one of these hip sophisticates into a scared, whimpering child. Andrea is sorely tested each and every dayand often late into the nightwith orders barked over the phone. She puts up with it all by keeping her eyes on the prize: a recommendation from Miranda that will get her a top job at any magazine of her choosing. As things escalate from the merely unacceptable to the downright outrageous, Andrea begins to realize that the job a million girls would die for may just kill her. And even if she survives, she has to decide whether or not it's worth the price of her soul. Leseprobe 1 The light hadn't even officially turned green at the intersection of 17th and Broadway before an army of overconfident yellow cabs roared past the tiny deathtrap I was attempting to navigate around the city streets. Clutch, gas, shift (neutral to first? Or first to second?), release clutch, I repeated over and over in my head, the mantra offering little comfort and even less direction amid the screeching midday traffic. The little car bucked wildly twice before it lurched forward through the intersection. My heart flip-flopped in my chest. Without warning, the lurching evened out and I began to pick up speed. Lots of speed. I glanced down to confirm visually that I was only in second gear, but the rear end of a cab loomed so large in the windshield that I could do nothing but jam my foot on the brake pedal so hard that my heel snapped off. Shit! Another pair of seven-hundred-dollar shoes sacrificed to my complete and utter lack of grace under pressure: this clocked in as my third such breakage this month. It was almost a relief when the car stalled (I'd obviously forgotten to press the clutch when attempting to brake for my life). I had a few seconds--peaceful seconds if one could overlook the angry honking a...

“It’s Working Girl meets Cruella de Vil.”—Newsday

“A telling tale of life as an underling . . . compelling.”—BBC

“Deliciously witty and gossipy.”—Publishers Weekly

“[A] must-have accessory.”—Rocky Mountain News

Autorentext

Lauren Weisberger is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of When Life Gives You Lululemons, The Singles Game, Revenge Wears Prada, Last Night at Chateau Marmont, Chasing Harry Winston, Everyone Worth Knowing, and *The Devil Wears Prada—*which have all been New York Times bestsellers. The Devil Wears Prada was published in forty languages, made into a major motion picture starring Meryl Streep and Anne Hathaway, and adapted for the stage starring Vanessa Williams, with music by Elton John. Weisberger’s books have sold more than thirteen million copies worldwide. A graduate of Cornell University, she lives in Connecticut with her husband and two children.

Klappentext

#1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • THE INSPIRATION FOR THE HIT MOVIE STARRING MERYL STREEP AND ANNE HATHAWAY • DON’T MISS THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA 2, NOW IN THEATERS!

“The degree to which The Devil Wears Prada has penetrated pop culture needs no explanation.”—Vanity Fair

A gloriously wicked story about the ultimate Boss from Hell and the deals we make with the devil to get to the top

Andrea Sachs, a small-town girl fresh out of college, lands the job “a million girls would die for.” Hired as the assistant to Miranda Priestly, the high-profile, fabulously successful editor of Runway magazine, Andrea finds herself in an office that shouts Prada! Armani! Versace! at every turn, a world populated by impossibly thin, heart-wrenchingly stylish women and beautiful men clad in fine-ribbed turtlenecks and tight leather pants that show off their lifelong dedication to the gym. With breathtaking ease, Miranda can turn each and every one of these hip sophisticates into a scared, whimpering child.

Andrea is sorely tested each and every day—and often late into the night—with orders barked over the phone. She puts up with it all by keeping her eyes on the prize: a recommendation from Miranda that will get her a top job at any magazine of her choosing. As things escalate from the merely unacceptable to the downright outrageous, Andrea begins to realize that the job a million girls would die for may just kill her. And even if she survives, she has to decide whether or not it’s worth the price of her soul.

Leseprobe
1

The light hadn't even officially turned green at the intersection of 17th and Broadway before an army of overconfident yellow cabs roared past the tiny deathtrap I was attempting to navigate around the city streets. Clutch, gas, shift (neutral to first? Or first to second?), release clutch, I repeated over and over in my head, the mantra offering little comfort and even less direction amid the screeching midday traffic. The little car bucked wildly twice before it lurched forward through the intersection. My heart flip-flopped in my chest. Without warning, the lurching evened out and I began to pick up speed. Lots of speed. I glanced down to confirm visually that I was only in second gear, but the rear end of a cab loomed so large in the windshield that I could do nothing but jam my foot on the brake pedal so hard that my heel snapped off. Shit! Another pair of seven-hundred-dollar shoes sacrificed to my complete and utter lack of grace under pressure: this clocked in as my third such breakage this month. It was almost a relief when the car stalled (I'd obviously forgotten to press the clutch when attempting to brake for my life). I had a few seconds--peaceful seconds if one could overlook the angry honking and varied forms of the word "f***" being hurled at me from all directions--to pull off my Manolos and toss them into the passenger seat. There was nowhere to wipe my sweaty hands except for the suede Gucci pants that hugged my thighs and hips so tightly they'd both begun to tingle within minutes of my securing the final button. My fingers left wet streaks across …