Fancy Pants. Home · Fancy Pants Author: Phillips Susan Elizabeth. 53 downloads Views KB Fancy Pants · Read more · Fancy Pants. Read more. Thank you for downloading fancy pants wynette texas 1 susan elizabeth phillips. As you may know, people have search numerous times for their chosen. Get Free Read & Download Files Fancy Pants Susan Elizabeth Phillips PDF. FANCY PANTS SUSAN ELIZABETH PHILLIPS. Download: Fancy Pants Susan.
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(c) - page 1 of 7 - View Fancy Pants (Wynette, Texas Series Book 1) Bz70su By Susan Elizabeth Phillips KINDLE PDF EBOOK EPUB. Editorial Reviews. Review. LaVyrle Spencer Refreshingly original, witty and touching. Elizabeth Fancy Pants (Wynette, Texas series Book 1) by [Phillips, Susan Elizabeth. Audible Sample. Audible Sample. Playing Playing Loading. Fancy Pants book. Read reviews from the world's largest community for readers. THEY'RE CAVIAR AND BEER. KEROSENE ON FIRE. AND THEY'RE.
That said, I don't know if I'll touch a book prior to the s by her again. And if it were 'just' that, it might be one thing.
My other issue is this didn't feel like a romance. I want to like my characters in a romance-and that's about the only place that's necessary, and this golfer and spoiled British immigrant were really unlikeable, awful people.
They weren't charismatically horrible people looking at you, Val of Duke of Sin, or legitimately manipulative but understandably so Annabelle from Wallflowers.
They were awful. Awful to each other, awful to others, awful as a couple. And there was actually precious little of them as a couple. Awful in their language. The Old World Chapter 1 When Francesca was first placed in her mother's arms, Chloe Serritella Day burst into tears and insisted that the sisters at the private London hospital where she had given birth had lost her baby. Any imbecile could see that this ugly little creature with its mashed head and swollen eyelids could not possibly have come from her own exquisite body.
Since no husband was present to comfort the hysterical Chloe, it was left to the sisters to assure her that most newborns weren't at their best for several days.
Chloe ordered them to take away the ugly little imposter and not come back until they had found her own dear baby. She then reapplied her makeup and greeted her visitors—among them a French film star, the secretary of the British Home Office, and Salvador Dali—with a tearful account of the terrible tragedy that had been perpetrated upon her.
The visitors, long accustomed to the beautiful Chloe's dramatics, merely patted her hand and promised to look into the matter. Dali, in a burst of magnanimity, announced he would paint a surrealistic version of the infant in question as a christening gift, but mercifully lost interest in the project and sent a set of vermeil goblets instead.
A week passed.
On the day she was to be released from the hospital, the sisters helped Chloe dress in a loose-fitting black Balmain sheath with a wide organdy collar and cuffs. Afterward, they guided her into a wheelchair and deposited the rejected infant in her arms. The intervening time had done little to improve the baby's appearance, but in the moment she gazed down at the bundle in her arms, Chloe experienced one of her lightning-swift mood changes.
Peering into the mottled face, she announced to one and all that the third generation of Serritella beauty was now assured.
No one had the bad manners to disagree, which, as it turned out, was just as well, for within a matter of months, Chloe had been proved correct. Chloe's sensitivity on the subject of female beauty had its roots in her own childhood. As a girl she had been plump, with an extra fold of fat squaring off her waist and small fleshy pads obscuring the delicate bones of her face.
She was not heavy enough to be considered obese in the eyes of the world, but was merely plump enough to feel ugly inside, especially in comparison to her sleek and stylish mother, the great Italian-born couturiere, Nita Serritella.
It was not until , the summer when Chloe was twelve years old, that anyone told her she was beautiful.
Home on a brief holiday from one of the Swiss boarding schools where she spent too much of her childhood, she was sitting as inconspicuously as possible with her full hips perched on a gilt chair in the corner of her mother's elegant salon on the rue de la Paix. She watched with both resentment and envy as Nita, pencil slim in a severely cut black suit with oversize raspberry satin lapels, conferred with an elegantly dressed customer.
Her mother wore her blue-black hair cut short and straight, so that it fell forward over the pale skin of her left cheek in a great comma-shaped curl, and her Modigliani neck supported ropes of perfectly matched black pearls.
The pearls, along with the contents of a small wall safe in her bedroom, were gifts from Nita's admirers, internationally prosperous men who were only too happy to download jewels for a woman successful enough to download her own.
One of those men had been Chloe's father, although Nita professed not to remember which one, and she had certainly never for a moment considered marrying him. The attractive blonde who was receiving Nita's attention in the salon that afternoon spoke Spanish, her accent surprisingly common for one who held so much of the world's attention that particular summer of Chloe followed the conversation with half her attention and devoted the other half to studying the reed-thin mannequins who were parading through the center of the salon modeling Nita's latest designs.
Why couldn't she be thin and self-assured like those mannequins?
Chloe wondered. Why couldn't she look exactly like her mother, especially since they had the same black hair, the same green eyes? If only she were beautiful, Chloe thought, maybe her mother would stop looking at her with such disgust. You all know that's not fuck. What this means is you could write a great story with great characters and it didn't age well at all.
My hope is that SEP has grown as an author and no longer has hurtful language like this aimed at a community. In that case, I can forgive the author as we say around here "when you know better, you do better.
That said, I don't know if I'll touch a book prior to the s by her again. And if it were 'just' that, it might be one thing. My other issue is this didn't feel like a romance.
I want to like my characters in a romance-and that's about the only place that's necessary, and this golfer and spoiled British immigrant were really unlikeable, awful people. They weren't charismatically horrible people looking at you, Val of Duke of Sin, or legitimately manipulative but understandably so Annabelle from Wallflowers.