Lauren Weisberger 3-Book Collection: Everyone Worth Knowing, Chasing Harry Winston, Last Night at Chateau Marmont

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Lauren Weisberger. Lauren Weisberger 3-Book Collection: Everyone Worth Knowing, Chasing Harry Winston, Last Night at Chateau Marmont

Everyone Worth Knowing. Chasing Harry Winston Last Night at Chateau Marmont. by Lauren Weisberger

EVERYONE WORTH KNOWING. Lauren Weisberger

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Acknowledgments

CHASING HARRY WINSTON. Lauren Weisberger

panties is a vile word

if you think it’s too big, you don’t deserve it

once they’re in, they’re real

mommy drinks because i cry

all cocky confidence and killer smile

count him as south america

friendly really means available and desperate

three men do not a femme fatale make

the perfect-for-right-now relationship

may her huge, perky boobs give her back pain by thirty

it’d be nauseating if it weren’t so goddamn cute

acknowledgments

LAST NIGHT AT CHATEAU MARMONT. Lauren Weisberger

One. Piano Man

Two. Suffer One, Suffer All

Three. Makes John Mayer Look Like Amateur Hour

Four. A Toast to Hot Redheads

Five. They’ll Swoon for You

Six. He Could Have Been a Doctah

Seven. Betrayed by a Bunch of Tweens

Eight. My Weak Heart Can’t Handle Another Threesome

Nine. A Bun in the Oven and a Drink in Hand

Ten. Boy-Next-Door Dimples

Eleven. Knee-Deep in Tequila and Eighteen-Year-Old Girls

Twelve. Better or Worse Than the Sienna Pictures?

Thirteen. Gods and Nurses Don’t Mix

Fourteen. The Removal of Clothes

Fifteen. Not a Shower Sobber

Sixteen. Boyfriend with a Villa and a Son

Seventeen. Good Old Ed Had a Thing for Prostitutes

Eighteen. We Hit Crazy at Check-In

Nineteen. Pity Dance

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Also by Lauren Weisberger

Praise for Lauren Weisberger

Copyright

About the Publisher

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Table of Contents

Title Page

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Perhaps it was the fourth cosmo – liquid courage – but I wasn’t in the mood to deal with his condescending attitude, so I turned on my too-chunky heels and yanked the door open. ‘I hardly need your charity. Thanks for nothing,’ I snapped and marched back inside the club as soberly as I could manage.

I hugged Penelope, air-kissed Avery, and then beelined to the door before anyone else could initiate any more small talk. I saw a girl crouched in a corner, sobbing quietly but with a pleased awareness that others were watching, and sidestepped a strikingly stylish foreign couple who were making out furiously, and with much hip grinding. I then made a big show of ignoring the meathead bouncer who, incidentally, was reading from a tattered paperback version of Lady Chatterley’s Lover (sex fiend!) and threw my arm in the air to hail a cab. Only the street was completely empty, and a cold drizzle had just begun, practically guaranteeing that a taxi was nowhere in my immediate future.

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