On Sale: Now
Paperback
ISBN: 9781401340957
A good makeup artist never panics. Bella Shaughnessy knows this. She’s the resident makeup maven in a family of Boston Irish hair salon owners; she has an artful solution to almost every problem. But Bella feels bruised beyond the reach of even the best concealer when her half-sister runs off with her husband. What could she come up with to cover a hurt like that?
Plenty, it turns out. She conceives an invigorating new business idea, and soon meets a cute entrepreneur who can help out. Despite their bickering, they can’t seem to stay away from success --- or from each other.
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"Laugh out loud."
- Good Housekeeping
"Charming, engagingly quirky, and full of fun, Claire Cook just gets it. SUMMER BLOWOUT is irresistible!"
- Meg Cabot, author of The Princess Diaries series and QUEEN OF BABBLE GETS HITCHED
"SUMMER BLOWOUT is as intoxicating as a seat at the top of the Ferris wheel. Reading Claire Cook might be the most fun you have all summer."
- Elin Hilderbrand, author of BAREFOOT
"As someone who struggles with humid, willful, occasionally explosive summer hair, I only wish every Summer Blowout were so completely satisfying. Claire Cook is at her irresistible, charming, dishy, can’t-put-it-down best."
- Amy Cohen, author of THE LATE BLOOMER’S REVOLUTION
"You won't have to don your sunglasses for this sunny delight by the author of MUST LOVE DOGS. Makeup artist Bella Shaughnessy has a thing for lipstick --- with names like Catfight, Damaged and Revive --- a family that gives new meaning to the expression blended (thanks to a half-sister who's dating Bella's ex-husband) and a ban on men (see half-sister). Which is too bad, because she's just met Sean Ryan, an entrepreneur with sparkling eyes and a proposal, business that is --- or is it? --- for Bella. As refreshing as an icy drink on a sultry day."
- Family Circle
"SUMMER BLOWOUT is primed, like Cook's previous novel MUST LOVE DOGS... to become a big-screen romantic comedy."
- Booklist
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Claire Cook is the bestselling author of Summer Blowout, Life’s a Beach, Must Love Dogs, Multiple Choice, and Ready to Fall. She teaches workshops for aspiring writers and women coming into their own at midlife, and has had previous stints as a fitness teacher and dance and aerobics choreographer. She lives in Scituate, Massachusetts, with her husband, where she walked 10,000 steps a day while writing this novel.
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Chapter 1
LIPSTICK IS MY DRUG OF CHOICE. I GRABBED A TUBE of Nars Catfight, a rich, semi-matte nude mauve, on my way out of the salon. Easy access to beauty products is one of the perks of the business.
There were lots of cars in the parking lot, but I saw him almost as soon as I pushed the door open. He was sitting in the driver’s seat, leaning back with his eyes closed. I was surprised I couldn’t hear that big fat snore of his all the way from here.
I was across the parking lot before I knew it. I had a large chocolate brown shoulder bag with me, and I swung it sideways to gain some momentum. Then I picked up speed and hurled it at the windshield as hard as I could.
My ex-husband jumped like he’d been shot and crashed his head into the window beside him. In that instant I understood every wronged woman who had ever run over her husband. Or cut off his penis. I could have killed him. Easily. And then gone back for seconds.
Craig was looking at me with real fear in his eyes. I liked it. He looked down at the ignition, maybe calculating his chances for escape. He reached for the button and lowered the window about two inches. “What the hell was that?” he asked through the crack.
“What the hell was that? What the hell are you doing here?”
“Sophia’s car’s in the shop,” he actually said. “She needed a ride.”
If there was a gene for getting it, my former husband had clearly been born without it. “You’re pond scum,” I said. “No, you’re lower than pond scum. If there’s anything lower than pond scum, you’re it.” I stretched forward and started picking up the contents of my shoulder bag, which were scattered all over the hood of Craig’s stupid Lexus. He didn’t even own it. It was leased. I hoped he got completely screwed when it was time to pay for the scratches.
My Nars Catfight, which had somehow ended up on the hood, too, twinkled up at me. I reached for it and covered my lips in slow, soothing strokes. A round hairbrush rolled to the pavement. I bent down and picked it up, then stood and pointed the sharp end at him. “Get off my father’s property. Now.”
Craig shook his head, like I was the one with the problem. “Bella, it’s Sophia’s father’s property, too.”
“Great,” I said. “Let me go find him for you. Then he can be the one to kill you.”
That did it. Even before he’d left one of my father’s daughters for another one of his daughters, my father hadn’t been too crazy about Craig, and he knew it. He started up the car. “Just tell Sophia I’m waiting down the street for her, okay?”
“Sure,” I said. “I’m all over it.”
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