Based on the premise that you can wheel more freely alone, ""my dears,"" travel agent Tully has assembled a book on what she knows about France (certain areas only -- Paris, the Chateau country, Deauville -- who in God's name wants to go there -- the Riviera where ""Nice. . . is the reigning queen""?) with lists of all kinds: hotels, restaurants, tours, entertainments for each area. There are prices, necessarily fluctuating, but she tends to spend much more space on the expensive spots and since the lists are anything but complete, you'll do better with Michelin. Because the book is designed ""especially for women,"" there's something about shopping and beauty salons (even where to have plastic surgery -- it's cheaper over there) with perfunctory attention paid to sites, museums, etc. In other words, more cosmetic than cultural and as for the tone -- la Tully practically coos at you.