From New York Times bestselling author Meg Cabot comes the hilarious story of a lovable blabbermouth who can't seem to stay out of trouble. . . .
What's an American girl with a big mouth but an equally big heart to do
Lizzie Nichols has a problem, and it isn't that she doesn't have the slightest idea what she's going to do with her life or that she's blowing what should be her down payment on a cute little Manhattan apartment on a trip to London to visit her long-distance boyfriend, Andrew. But what's the point of planning for the future when she's done it again See, Lizzie can't keep her mouth shut. And it's not just that she can't keep her own secrets, she can't keep anything to herself.
This time when she opens her big mouth, her good intentions get Andrew in major hot water. So now Lizzie's stuck in London with no boyfriend and no place to stay until the departure date on her nonrefundable airline ticket.
Fortunately, there's Shari, Lizzie's best friend and college roommate, who's spending her summer in southern France, catering weddings with her boyfriend, Chaz, in a sixteenth-century ch ' teau. One call and Lizzie's on a train to Souillae. Who cares if she's never traveled alone in her life and only speaks rudimentary French One glimpse of gorgeous Ch ' teau Mirac -- not to mention the gorgeous Luke, the son of Ch ' teau Mirac's owner -- and she's smitten.
But while most caterers can be trusted to keep a secret, Lizzie's the exception. And no sooner has the first cork been popped than Luke hates her, the bride is in tears, and it looks like Ch ' teau Mirac is in danger of becoming a lipo-recovery spa. As if things aren't bad enough, her ex-boyfriend Andrew shows up looking for "closure" (or at least a loan), threatening to ruin everything, including Lizzie's chance at finding real love. . . .
Unless she can figure out a way to use that big mouth of hers to save the day.
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May 23, 2006
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Excerpt from Queen of Babble by Meg Cabot
Our indiscretion sometime serves us well When our deep plots do pall
' William Shakespeare (1564 ' 1616), British poet and playwright
I can't believe this. I can't believe I don't remember what he looks like! How can I not remember what he looks like I mean, his tongue has been in my mouth. How could I forget what someone whose tongue has been in my mouth looks like It's not like there've been that many guys who've had their tongues in my mouth. Only, like, three.
And one of those was in high school. And the other one turned out to be gay.
God, that is so depressing. Okay, I'm not going to think about that right now.
It isn't like it's been THAT long since I last saw him. It was just three months ago! You would think I'd remember what someone I've been dating for THREE MONTHS looks like.
Even if, you know, for most of those three months we've been in separate countries.
Still. I have his photo. Well, okay, you can't really see his face in it. Actually, you can't see his face at all, since it's a photo of his ' oh God ' naked ass.
Why would anyone send someone something like that I didn't ask for a photo of his naked ass. Was it supposed to be erotic Because it so wasn't.
Maybe that's just me, though. Shari's right, I've got to stop being so inhibited.
It was just so shocking to find it in my in-box, a big photo of my boyfriend's naked ass.
And okay, I know they were just goofing around, he and his friends. And I know Shari says it's a cultural thing, and that the British are much less sensitive about nudity than most Americans, and that we should strive as a culture to be more open and carefree, like they are.
Also that he probably thought, like most men do, that his ass is his best feature.