First novel about two Londoners sabotaging the wedding of a social-climbing chum.
Melanie Pepper and her best friend Fran are miffed beyond belief when Amanda Phillips manages to get engaged to Scottish laird Fraser McConnell. Isn’t it enough that Amanda is petite, perky, blond, and rich? Melanie and Fran were sure all the Right Hons were taken—or gay. Granted, Amanda’s intended dresses shabbily, and his ancestral castle is a pile of rubble, but his title is real enough, and they remember Fraser from their school days as really rather nice in his odd way. Melanie and Fran know that Amanda’s only marrying him for his noble pedigree and a chance to get her picture in the papers, but there’s nothing they can do about it but sulk and drink and scheme. Though she’d like to save Fraser, Melanie has too many other men in her life to worry about: Alex, her ne’er-do-well boyfriend, who dreams of making it big in rock music; and Nick, a hapless accountant who warms her bed when Alex isn’t around. Then Amanda sniffily informs her two friends that they’re not quite what she has in mind for bridesmaids—although, of course, they can attend the pretentious ceremony and contribute a silver place setting or two. Fueled by gallons of alcohol and limitless spite, Melanie and Fran hatch a plot and enlist Fraser’s younger brother, Angus, to help plant smoke bombs at the church and ruin the wedding. The ensuing stampede propels Fraser into loving arms, right where he apparently belongs. Colgan has a lively style, but this malicious little love story is awfully British and awfully brittle: all the girlish shrieking, tacky sex jokes, and class snobbery wear thin in a hurry.
This kind of import is definitely an acquired taste. (Film rights to Warner Bros.)