By Tatiana Boncompagni
In this scrumptious new novel, Tatiana Boncompagni creates a heroine all people will love...and nobody will ever omit.
As Lily Bartholomew navigates kiddie birthday events starring chart-topping leisure, society dinner-dances the place any girl higher than a dimension 2 can slightly stand to teach her Botoxed face, and holidays to specific hideaways with the partner's mother from hell, she continuously wonders, "On what planet have I landed?"
After all, she's only a down-to-earth gal from suburbia who felt as though she'd landed in the midst of a fairy story while she married Robert. he is good-looking, wealthy, and—best of all—able to make her snicker, and she or he fortunately jumped headfirst into his international. yet now Robert's misplaced his activity, Lily hasn't misplaced her being pregnant weight, and their once-golden life turns out without warning tarnished.
Desperate to regain her vanity, Lily starts writing essays approximately lifestyles one of the wealthy and snobbish, which tosses her into the highlight and within the course of social catastrophe. yet as Lily navigates her approach throughout the shark-infested waters of long island society, she begins to rediscover her personal position within the world—and the right way to regain what really matters.
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Extra resources for Gilding Lily
Sample text
Most of this stuff is directly out of her apartment. Look, look at this dining room table,” she dragged him by the hand over to the antique Sheraton table now stationed in their crimson-and-white-striped dining room. “It’s hers! This used to be in your old dining room. ” “It’s not like this stuff is trash,” Robert said, picking up a pair of silver candlesticks from a carved wood hutch. “These are beautiful. ” Registering the shock on her face, he softened his tone. “Now we can finally have dinner parties.
But with Robert now unemployed and their household budget all of a sudden running on fumes, a trip to the hair salon was regretfully out of the question. Wrapping a plush saffron-colored towel around her torso, Lily shuffled over to the vanity table in her bedroom. “Oh mercy,” she sighed as she sat down on the dressing table’s silk-covered stool and peered at her still unfamiliar reflection. Her hazel eyes were rimmed with dark circles—the result of months of sleep deprivation—and a few new horizontal lines had etched their way across her forehead.
The dress, a sea green riot in airy chiffon, had been shipped directly off a Milan runway and delivered via messenger to her apartment that day, and in her haste to get to the party, she hadn’t noticed the gown’s perilously long hem. Lily looked around, noting thankfully that her face plant had gone unobserved by the party guests and paparazzi milling about at the top of the stairs, and with her right hand gathered the excess material of the dress. She’d have to hold it up all night if she didn’t want to take another tumble in front of tout le monde New York—which, of course, she most assuredly did not.