The Undomestic Goddess, Sophie Kinsella

Anthony Holden, This Girl Loves Carrots

(December 25) A New York Post reviewer apparently said: "Kinsella is at the top of the chick-lit game... [She] skewers high-powered city life, while delivering a romantic comedy anyone who subsists on takeout will appreciate... Light yet filling." I really can't add to or improve on that.

Sample:

..."Happy birthday to you..."
The waiter puts the tray down in front of me, but my hands are full with phones.
"I'll take that for you," says Lorraine, relieving me of Daniel's phone. She lifts it to her ear, then beams at me. "He's singing!" she says, pointing to the receiver encouragingly.
"Samantha?" Mum is saying in my ear. "Are you still there?"
"I'm just... They're singing 'Happy Birthday'..."
I put the phone on the table. After a moment's thought, Lorraine puts the other phone carefully down on the other side of me.
This is my family birthday party.
Two cell phones.
I can see people looking over at the singing, their smiles falling a little as they see I'm sitting on my own. I can see the sympathy in the faces of the waiters. I'm trying to keep my chin up, but my cheeks are burning with embarrassment.
Suddenly the waiter I ordered from earlier appears at the table. He's carrying three cocktails on a tray and looks at the empty table in slight confusion.
"Who is the martini for?"
"It was... supposed to be for my brother..."
"That would be the Nokia," says Lorraine helpfully, pointing at the mobile phone.
There's a pause -- then, with a blank professional face, the waiter sets the drink down in front of the phone, together with a cocktail napkin.