Confessions of a Shopaholic

Zusatztext "Too good to pass up." USA Today Informationen zum Autor Sophie Kinsella is the author of the bestselling Shopaholic series! as well as the novels Can You Keep A Secret?! The Undomestic Goddess! Remember Me?! Twenties Girl! I've Got Your Number! and Wedding Night . She lives in England. Chapter One Ok. don't panic. Don't panic. It's only a VISA bill. It's a piece of paper; a few numbers. I mean, just how scary can a few numbers be? I stare out of the office window at a bus driving down Oxford Street, willing myself to open the white envelope sitting on my cluttered desk. It's only a piece of paper, I tell myself for the thousandth time. And I'm not stupid, am I? I know exactly how much this VISA bill will be. Sort of. Roughly. It'll be about ... £200. Three hundred, maybe. Yes, maybe £300. Three-fifty, max. I casually close my eyes and start to tot up. There was that suit in Jigsaw. And there was dinner with Suze at Quaglinos. And there was that gorgeous red and yellow rug. The rug was £200, come to think of it. But it was definitely worth every penny everyone's admired it. Or, at least, Suze has. And the Jigsaw suit was on sale 30 percent off. So that was actually saving money. I open my eyes and reach for the bill. As my fingers hit the paper I remember new contact lenses. Ninety-five pounds. Quite a lot. But, I mean, I had to get those, didn't I? What am I supposed to do, walk around in a blur? And I had to buy some new solutions and a cute case and some hypoallergenic eyeliner. So that takes it up to ... £400? At the desk next to mine, Clare Edwards looks up from her post. She's sorting all her letters into neat piles, just like she does every morning. She puts rubber bands round them and puts labels on them saying things like "Answer immediately" and "Not urgent but respond." I loathe Clare Edwards. "OK, Becky?" she says. "Fine," I say lightly. "Just reading a letter." I reach gaily into the envelope, but my fingers don't quite pull out the bill. They remain clutched around it while my mind is seized as it is every month by my secret dream. Do you want to know about my secret dream? It's based on a story I once read in The Daily World about a mix-up at a bank. I loved this story so much, I cut it out and stuck it onto my wardrobe door. Two credit card bills were sent to the wrong people, and get this each person paid the wrong bill without realizing. They paid off each other's bills without even checking them. And ever since I read that story, my secret fantasy has been that the same thing will happen to me. I mean, I know it sounds unlikely but if it happened once, it can happen again, can't it? Some dotty old woman in Cornwall will be sent my humongous bill and will pay it without even looking at it. And I'll be sent her bill for three tins of cat food at fifty-nine pence each. Which, naturally, I'll pay without question. Fair's fair, after all. A smile is plastered over my face as I gaze out of the window. I'm convinced that this month it'll happen my secret dream is about to come true. But when I eventually pull the bill out of the envelope goaded by Clare's curious gaze my smile falters, then disappears. Something hot is blocking my throat. I think it could be panic. The page is black with type. A series of familiar names rushes past my eyes like a mini shopping mall. I try to take them in, but they're moving too fast. Thorntons, I manage to glimpse. Thorntons Chocolates? What was I doing in Thorntons Chocolates? I'm supposed to be on a diet. This bill can't be right. This can't be me. I can't possibly have spent all this money. Don't panic! I yell internally. The key is not to panic. Just read each entry slowly, one by one. I take a deep breath and force myself to focus ...

"Too good to pass up."—*USA Today

Autorentext
Sophie Kinsella is the author of the bestselling Shopaholic series, as well as the novels Can You Keep A Secret?, The Undomestic Goddess, Remember Me?, Twenties Girl, I’ve Got Your Number, and Wedding Night. She lives in England.

Zusammenfassung
From the #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Party Crasher and Love Your Life comes “a hilarious tale . . . hijinks worthy of classic I Love Lucy episodes . . . too good to pass up.” (USA Today)

“Sophie Kinsella keeps her finger on the cultural pulse, while leaving me giddy with laughter.”—Jojo Moyes, author of The Giver of Stars and The Last Letter from Your Lover

Becky Bloomwood has a fabulous flat in London’s trendiest neighborhood, a troupe of glamorous socialite friends, and a closet brimming with the season’s must-haves. The only trouble is, she can’t actually afford it—not any of it. Her job writing at Successful Saving magazine not only bores her to tears, it doesn’t pay much at all. And lately Becky’s been chased by dismal letters from the bank—letters with large red sums she can’t bear to read. She tries cutting back. But none of her efforts succeeds. Her only consolation is to buy herself something . . . just a little something.
 
Finally a story arises that Becky actually cares about, and her front-page article catalyzes a chain of events that will transform her life—and the lives of those around her—forever.

Praise for Sophie Kinsella and Confessions of a Shopaholic
 
“Kinsella’s Bloomwood is plucky and funny. . . . You won’t have to shop around to find a more winning protagonist.”—People

“If a crème brûlée could be transmogrified into a book, it would be Confessions of a Shopaholic.”—The Star-Ledger

“A have-your-cake-and-eat-it romp, done with brio and not a syllable of moralizing. . . . Kinsella has a light touch and puckish humor.”—Kirkus Reviews

Leseprobe
Chapter One

Ok. don't panic. Don't panic. It's only a VISA bill. It's a piece of paper; a few numbers. I mean, just how scary can a few numbers be?

I stare out of the office window at a bus driving down Oxford Street, willing myself to open the white envelope sitting on my cluttered desk. It's only a piece of paper, I tell myself for the thousandth time. And I'm not stupid, am I? I know exactly how much this VISA bill will be.

Sort of. Roughly.

It'll be about ... £200. Three hundred, maybe. Yes, maybe £300. Three-fifty, max.

I casually close my eyes and start to tot up. There was that suit in Jigsaw. And there was dinner with Suze at Quaglinos. And there was that gorgeous red and yellow rug. The rug was £200, come to think of it. But it was definitely worth every penny — everyone's admired it. Or, at least, Suze has.

And the Jigsaw suit was on sale — 30 percent off. So that was actually saving money.

I open my eyes and reach for the bill. As my fingers hit the paper I remember new contact lenses. Ninety-five pounds. Quite a lot. But, I mean, I had to get those, didn't I? What am I supposed to do, walk around in a blur?

And I had to buy some new solutions and a cute case and some hypoallergenic eyeliner. So that takes it up to ... £400?

At the desk next to mine, Clare Edwards looks up from her post. She's sorting all her letters into neat piles, just like she does every morning. She puts rubber bands round them and puts labels on them saying things like "Answer immediately" and "Not urgent but respond." I loathe Clare Edwards.

"OK, Becky?" she says.

"Fine," I say lightly. "Just reading a letter."

I reach gaily into the envelope, but my fingers don't quite pull out the bill. They remain clutched around it while my mind is seized — as it is every month — by my secret dream.

Do you want to know about my secret dream? It's based on a story…