Editorial Reviews. tvnovellas.info Review. In a way, Candace Bushnell's Lipstick Jungle picks up where her career-defining book Sex and the City left off, in the. Lipstick Jungle book. Read reviews from the world's largest community for readers. In a way, Candace Bushnell's Lipstick Jungle picks up where her ca. Lipstick Jungle. A Novel. by Candace Bushnell. Share. ebook. Hardcover Lipstick Jungle is written by the same woman who wrote Sex and the City so it has.
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Read "Lipstick Jungle A Novel" by Candace Bushnell available from Rakuten Kobo. Sign up today and get $5 off your first download. The new novel that fans of . It was nearly seven-thirty 12 CANDACE BUSHNELLvery sweet, and had fetched her a drink, If "Lipstick Jungle" by Candace bushnell how to lose belly fat naturally without exercise □□□ tvnovellas.info Lipstick Jungle: A Novel by Candace Bushnell. Read online, or download in secure EPUB format.
Not in United States? Choose your country's store to see books available for download. The new novel that fans of the bestselling author have been waiting for, about three sexy, powerful career women who will do anything to stay at the top of their fields. Victory Ford is the darling of the fashion world. Single, attractive, and iconoclastic, she has worked for years to create her own signature line. As Victory struggles to keep her company afloat, she learns crucial lessons about what she really wants in a relationship. Nico O'Neilly is the glamorous, brilliant editor of Bonfire Magazine --the pop-culture bible for fashion, show business, and politics.
Much, muchyounger. She liked to joke that he was her fourth child. Was he freaking outabout turning forty? But this was nothing new. He wasthree years younger, which was quite daring at the time, a twenty-seven-year-old woman with a twenty-four-year-old man, and he was good-looking enoughto be an actor. It was beneath him. He was, he said, a creative genius.
She wasthe practical one. He was so gorgeous. And sweet. But alwaysa little high-strung. He was writing his screenplay and trying to get money forhis independent movie. She helped him. But then, in typical Hollywood fashion, nothing happened. Shane wascommissioned to write screenplays, but none of them ever got made. And for reasons she could never quite understand, her career kept And now Shane, who had gone fromwriting screenplays to writing a novel unpublished , was trying to open arestaurant.
It would probably be a disaster. But then she could deduct the money from her taxes. She stepped out of the shower, and as she did so, Shane came into the bath-room and handed her her cell phone.
She looked at him curiously. She sighed in annoyance. She put the phone to her ear while toweling off her legs. There was a momentary silence that was like an accusation. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Minniver hadarrived and, scowling, was feeding the children bagels with cream cheese; Minniver said grudgingly, in her clipped English accent.
Inside were ametal desk, a brand-new computer, several unpacked boxes, toys, variousDVDs, a large treadmill used once , and three pairs of skis.
Thetowel slipped off and she looked down at her chest. God, her breasts were reallysagging. She was going to have to seriously consider having themdone. The Spotted Pig. What the hell was he talking about? Jenny Cadine and Tanner Coleare the stars. It was standard procedure for assistants to stay on the line, so theycould take notes on the conversation if necessary. Just tell them Victor Matrick changedthe time. It was allshe needed: People in her position always were. No matter howgood her numbers were, the president of Parador Pictures would be a vanitychoice for the new CEO.
And then what would she do? What would happen toher children? To Shane? Goddammit, she thought, picking up the towel.
It meant she was going tohave to work even harder, and she was going to have to be smart about it. It was called Ragged Pilgrims, and was scheduled to begin shootingin two months. But right now, Ragged Pilgrims was like a little baby. It needed constantattention—bathing, feeding, and diaper changing—if it was going to surviveto the next phase of its life.
The last thing she had time to do now was to be outthere schmoozing. Her phone rang and, checking the number, she saw that it was another call Was Victor calling her back? Miranda Delaney? And then, clearing her throat: Especially asNico was rising up at Splatch-Verner, secretly angling to become president ofthe entire magazine division, which would put her just under Victor in termsof power. She only hoped Nico could get the job before Victor lost his mind.
Her sartorial consistency gave her staff andco-workers a sense of always knowing what they were going to get with her,and gave her the peace of mind in knowing that every day was going to startout the same. Oh God, she thought.
The car was on the FDR drive now and, turning her head, she glanced outat the bleak brown buildings of the projects that stretched for blocks along thedrive.
Something inside her sank at the sight of all that sameness, and she sud-denly felt defeated. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Meanwhile, time was marching on, and allthat was happening to her was that she was getting older and smaller, and oneday she would be no bigger than a dot, and then she would simply disappear. Like a small leaf burned up under a magnifying glass in the sun. Andthen, one morning, time had caught up with her and she had woken up andrealized that she was there.
She should have been thrilled. But instead, she felt tired. Like all thosethings belonged to someone else. She took the heel of one spectator pump and pushed it down hard on thetoe of her other foot.
She was not going to think like this. She was not going toallow some random, inexplicable feeling to get her down. Especially not this morning, which, she reminded herself, was so potentiallyimportant to her career. WithPeter installed as CEO, she was sure he was going to make big changes, and shewanted to be in on the action from the beginning.
Nico took out a compact and quickly checked her makeup. And unfortunately, success was like beauty: And so she had deter-mined that she would move up in the company. The only potential stumbling block was her boss, Mike Harness, who hadhired her six years ago. But there was a principle involved: No woman had yetsucceeded to the position of CEO of any Splatch-Verner division, and it wasabout time one did.
The Town Car pulled through a gap in the chain-link fence that sur-rounded the helipad, and stopped a few feet from the green Sikorsky helicopterthat sat placidly on the landing pad.
Nico got out of the car and began walkingbriskly to the helicopter. Before she reached it, however, she suddenly paused,surprised by the sound of another car coming up behind her. She turned to seea dark blue Mercedes barreling through the gate. This was not possible, she thought, with a mixture of anger, distress, andshock. He was going to try to take creditfor the meeting. No doubthe knew she was annoyed, but in a corporation like Splatch-Verner, whereeverything you said, did, and even wore was potential watercooler fodder, itwas always imperative to keep your emotions to yourself.
And then everyone would talk about how she had lost it. Instead, shelooked at Mike with a slightly perplexed smile on her face. She nodded, her face arranged into its usual expression of total impassive-ness.
As she sat down in the plush leather seat,she thought about how it had taken her three months to arrange this meetingwith Peter Borsch, and about three minutes for Mike to ruin it. The memo in question was ane-mail Victor Matrick had sent to all employees regarding the window blinds. Every few months he would take an unannounced strollthrough the halls of the Splatch-Verner building, and the result would be thesememos. Victor Matrickwas certainly crazy, but not in the way people thought he was.
Nico picked up a copy of the Wall Street Journal and opened it with a snap. Selden Rosewas the president of the cable division, and although he and Wendy were atequal levels, Wendy always worried that Selden Rose was trying to expand histerritory to encompass her division. Nico stared down at her newspaper, pretending to be interested in a storyabout the retail business. Look at Mike, she thought, glancing over at him. He was leaning forwardin his seat, trying to shout something at the pilot about sports over the noise ofthe engines, which the pilot had just started.
Nico often suspected that Mike had become CEO and presi-dent of Verner Publications because he always managed to get Victor Matrick,who was obsessed with all forms of sports and competition, tickets to everymajor sporting event, which Mike, naturally, also attended. And now, this, she thought: Borsch might really come in handy. His appear-ance this morning was no less than an open declaration of war. From now on,it was her or him. But years of corporate life had taught her to contain her feel-ings, to never let your opponent know what you were thinking, or what youwere planning to do to them if necessary.
She folded up the newspaper andsmoothed her skirt. But notincluding her had been an open insult that people had talked about for weeksbefore and after. If Mike wanted to crush her, he should have been more cleverabout it, she thought. But Mike had made a mistake, and now all she had to do was play alongwith him. Andif it went well, and Mike did go to Victor, Victor would know immediatelywhat was going on. As the helicopter swooped low,past the tall buildings that resembled a forest of lipsticks, Nico felt a frisson ofsomething close to sexual excitement, which she experienced every time shecaught sight of the familiar concrete-and-steel landscape.
New York City wasstill the best place in the world, she thought, and certainly one of the few placesin the world where women like her could not only survive but rule. And as the Even her coffeemaker was happier than she was, Victory thought disconso-lately, pouring the bitter liquid into a simple white mug.
She peeked at the clock on the wall, not really wanting to remind herself ofthe time. It was eleven a. Which was also ironically appropriate, she thought, spooning three heapingteaspoons of sugar into her coffee. She had tried something new, and her efforts had been rejected. The worldwas a very cruel place. A long window seat ran the length of the French windows that looked outonto the street, and she sat down wearily.
The critics were not kind. Nearly a month hadpassed, but she could still remember every scathing word: It was better toknow the truth, and to deal with it. She looked out the window and sighed. Andlooking at the pages and pages of fashion, she was suddenly transported toanother world—a place that seemed to have unlimited possibilities, where any-thing you imagined could happen. She sud-denly saw what she was meant to do. She was going to be a fashion designer. Itwas her destiny. Back when shewas a kid, and for years afterward, she had assumed that everyone was just likeher—and like her, they knew exactly what they were meant to do with theirlives.
Even when she was ten, she could remember boldly telling the other kidsthat she was going to be a fashion designer, even though she had no idea howto get there or what fashion designers actually did. She shook her head, remembering those early days in New York with affec- Everything was so new then, and exciting. Ateighteen, she moved to New York to attend F.
By Monday at eight thirty-threea. She worked day and night,snatching a few hours of sleep on the used fold-out couch she had rescued fromthe street. The city was different back then—poor and crumbling—kept aliveonly by the gritty determination and steely cynicism of its occupants. Butunderneath the dirt was the apple-cheeked optimism of possibility, and whileshe worked, the whole city seemed to throb along with her.
She cut and sewedto the background medley of car horns and shouts and the endless beat of themusic from boom boxes. The possibility of failure never crossed her mind. The Garment District was like an Ara-bian bazaar.
The streets were lined with mom-and-pop shops containing Purse snatchers, street people, and hus-tlers lurked near the entrances to the buildings, and Victory clutched the bagcontaining her six-piece collection tightly to her chest, imagining the irony ofhaving worked so hard only to have it snatched away.
What if she kept trying and failing? The way she lookedat the samples, holding them up and turning them over and scrutinizing thefabric, made Victory feel as if she herself were being inspected. Victory had no idea what Myrna was talking about. Myrna shrugged. Afterward, she ran out onto the street, dizzy with triumph.
She strode up Thirty-seventh Street to Fifth Avenue, notknowing where she was going, but only that she wanted to be in the middle ofeverything. She walked up Fifth Avenue, weaving joyfully between thepassersby, and stopping at Rockefeller Center to watch the skaters. The city waslike a silvery Oz, full of magic possibilities, and it was only when she reachedthe park and had exhausted some of her energy that she went to a phone boothand called her best friend from F.
But ambition andburning desire the kind of desire, she imagined, most women had for men carried her forward.
All the pieces had sold. She was eighteen years old, and she was in business. A perfect beach read. Nov 23, Hadessephy rated it liked it Shelves: Not great but much better than Sex and the City. Dec 14, Megija rated it liked it. Nov 13, Joanna Doherty Salone rated it did not like it. Wonderful writing but awful book. The characters had no redeeming value, so much so that instead of rooting for the characters I was happy to see bad things happen to them.
These characters are the exact reason why some men hate feminists; there is nothing wrong with being a strong woman but these women took it to another level of belittling and disrespecting the men in their lives.
These women seem to think that being a strong woman is about being as big of a jerk as you can to men, which could Wonderful writing but awful book. These women seem to think that being a strong woman is about being as big of a jerk as you can to men, which couldn't be further from the truth. Being a jerk, makes you a jerk, plain and simple, whether you're male or female. Their shallowness and selfishness was appalling--their failure to recognize how their actions affect their entire families, their quest for power and money put above being good decent people.
They are the kind of people who create awful situations in their lives and then blame everyone else when these situations go awry.
They are great businesswomen but it is possible to be smart, beautiful AND have a conscience and morals. I was pleasantly surprised by how much I liked this one. Well written, not full of male bashing, and fascinating characters. Would love a sequel to this to see where the three protagonists are in 5 years time.
Aug 19, Danielle rated it did not like it Shelves: Candace Bushnell's writing leaves so much to be desired. I've tried and tried, and it's just not worth the effort anymore.
How they managed to turn one of her sad books into a multi-million dollar franchise is beyond me. Jan 10, Molly rated it did not like it Shelves: It's hard to understand why soulless, ignorant, vapid, shallow golddiggers are of interest. Oct 30, Rebekah rated it it was ok. It is pure unadulterated fluff. Very obviously by Candace Bushnell. Much like Sex in the City had girl power and sex right up together described or shown in equal detail so with Lipstick Jungle.
The ladies work in high power or climbing high jobs, one in magazine publishing, one in movie production, and up and coming fashion designer.
Wendy the producer married a man who cou It is pure unadulterated fluff.
He honestly screwed himself as he had lost his youth and his wife was very giving in the bedroom to make up for her MIA status as parent. The publishing tyrant, Nico is cheating on her sensible shoes husband to give her the spring in her step so she can step into her chauvinist bosses shoes.
She has the most power but her sexless marriage has left her wondering about what she really wants. After a year of sex she realizes that stability is better than an orgasm, as those are just moments of pleasure and not necessary for happiness. She finds she loves the stable and not needy husband she has. Victory the fashionista is the less well established character. This is her fall and rise story. It begins with fashion week where her spring line goes outside the normal game and puts her on the outs with the department stores.
She goes soul searching and with back against the wall comes up with pants. Pants are the answer and she is back with such gusto she almost takes a brass ring of selling out her name for loads of money. When she breaks up with her billionaire boyfriend and busts up the deal in one month the climax occurs and she starts to understand her problems.
Suddenly the movie is jumped ahead a few months and she is flying high with a new partner for the business and back in Business with her boyfriend. They all end happily every after no bad things occur Wendy makes a smash movie. Victory makes a mint on a hat and Nico pays off the boy-toy. Silly summer fluff, with a generous helping of sex. May 24, Jennifer rated it liked it Shelves: Lipstick Jungle had a good message and a decent story.
The problem was that is was always obscured by some problem. Everything felt scattered, from an all over the place time line to almost interchangeable, and therefore easily confusable, main characters.
Lipstick Jungle follows three strong, professional women who found that they could be vulnerable, but only among their female friends. The story showcased the idea that highly successful women have the same problems as average women, only on a Lipstick Jungle had a good message and a decent story.
The story showcased the idea that highly successful women have the same problems as average women, only on a somewhat larger scale. While managing work, family, and romantic relationships, the women predictably learn that friendship is the most important thing. I found it difficult to always be able to decipher which woman we were focusing on at each point in time, especially when the main women interacted with minor characters usually related to another story line.
This was compounded by the fact that each of the three women were basically the same. They had different careers and families, but they all had the same basic voice.
The timeline was equally hard to follow. Often we would be shown the outcome of an event and then immediately be told about the things that lead up to that outcome as if the character was thinking back on it. As the book was written in third person, that these mini-flashbacks left me wondering not only which character was which, but also where in the story we actually were.
There was a lot of going back and re-reading with this book. The problems mentioned above ultimately make this book average. Lipstick Jungle is chick lit with a clear female empowerment message. Being a strong women isn't as easy as everyone assumes. The story is entertaining, but what should be a fun indulgence becomes harder than it should be. I would only recommend this to Candace Bushnell fans and huge chick lit fans. I came away on holiday with three books to read: Of course, this did not stop my from downloading a book at the airport I am a serious bookshop junkie and since I was going on holiday, I thought I would get something fairly trashy and easy.
I have just finished it and I have to say I am pretty disappointed I came away on holiday with three books to read: I have just finished it and I have to say I am pretty disappointed. She will explain every metaphor and ram every viewpoint down your throat so many times that it becomes tiresome. Whilst I really enjoyed the TV shows Sex and the City and Lipstick Jungle, which were both inspired by her writing, I think the credit for their respective and, admittedly, varying success belongs to people other than Bushnell herself.
Jun 25, Brittany rated it really liked it Recommends it for: Fans of Kathleen Tessaro, Candace Bushnell. I spotted it at Superstore and snagged it. The Plot: Instead of four single sirens in NYC, Bushnell writes about three power players who are learning the 'glass ceiling' of yesteryear still has an impact on their lives.
Victory is a fashion designer plagued by financial woes - that could be easily solved by compromising her own values. Wendy is trying to balance her intense work pressure with her intense home pressure care of her stay-at-home husband. Nico is stuck in two games love and work respectively where she is trying to kill without being killed.
This was definitely Bushnell's best book to date that I've read. Things happened!
Characters grew! Although this may sound like basic novel accomplishments, they are big ones for Bushnell. The Bottom Line: Bushnell's Best. Anything Memorable?: Book 7 in Aug 25, Raquel Bernardes rated it it was ok Shelves: Dec 23, Lil rated it liked it Shelves: Ok, so sassy New York ladies all dressed up and going to work is my jam thanks, Ryan! Quick read, fun but a little repetitive and hit you over the head with its "themes".
Still, it would be perfect to take on a beach trip with the ladies and read while sipping daquiris that some handsome younger man brought you. View 2 comments. Aug 24, Alice rated it it was ok Shelves: Blah blah blah women blah blah blah power blah blah blah relationships suffer blah blah blah money blah blah BLAH!
The "feminism" in this book gets really heavy-handed and then just ends up being tiresome. That was really good. It's not the type of book I typically read, but it was a nice change of pace. Great characters and a very entertaining story. I may have to read more of her books. This was much better than the guilty pleasure I was expecting. Nov 25, Vicki L rated it really liked it. Suka deh novel ini.. View all 5 comments. These days, everyone has friends and colleagues; no one really has lovers—even if they have slept together.
Everyone in the room is immediately jealous. Pissed off. The energy of the room lurches violently. This is romance in New York. Then you get further and further away from having a relationship, unless something big comes along to shake you out of it—like your parents dying.
All the temptations. Going out. Other people. You want to have fun. Sit in your little box of an apartment and stare at each other? Back then, we were still romantic enough to believe that some woman could get him. He has to fall in love someday, we thought. But then those beautiful and smart and successful women came and went. We were wrong. Skipper is twenty-five and personifies the Gen X dogged disbelief in Love.
People are so corrupted these days. I feel pissed off to be born in this generation when all these things are happening to me. Skipper took a gulp of his drink. I have no sex and no romance. Who needs it? Who needs all these potential problems like disease and pregnancy? I have no problems.
No fear of disease, psychopaths, or stalkers. Why not just be with your friends and have real conversations and a good time?