L.A. Connections: Power, Obsession, Murder, Revenge

Overview

New York Times bestselling author Jackie Collins blazed onto bestseller lists nationwide with L.A.Connections — four entwined novels of passion and danger among Hollywood's most powerful players. Now this sensational serial novel is collected in one blockbuster volume from "the queen of glamour fiction" (San Antonio Express-News).

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Overview

New York Times bestselling author Jackie Collins blazed onto bestseller lists nationwide with L.A.Connections — four entwined novels of passion and danger among Hollywood's most powerful players. Now this sensational serial novel is collected in one blockbuster volume from "the queen of glamour fiction" (San Antonio Express-News).

Power

Obsession

Murder

Revenge

A killer is playing a deadly game inside the exclusive mansions of L.A. Drawn into this dangerous world are a high-class call girl looking for a way out...a ruthless agent playing for high stakes...and a beautiful journalist chasing the story of her career. They are about to discover the rules of survival in this city of dreamers and deceivers.

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780671036645
  • Publisher: Pocket Books
  • Publication date: 6/28/1999
  • Series: L.A. Connections Series
  • Format: Mass Market Paperback
  • Pages: 480
  • Product dimensions: 4.00 (w) x 7.00 (h) x 1.00 (d)

Meet the Author

Jackie Collins

There have been many imitators, but only Jackie Collins can tell you what really goes on in the fastest lane of all. From Beverly Hills bedrooms to a raunchy prowl along the streets of Hollywood; from glittering rock parties and concerts to stretch limos and the mansions of the power brokers—Jackie Collins chronicles the real truth from the inside looking out.

Jackie Collins has been called a “raunchy moralist” by the late director Louis Malle and “Hollywood’s own Marcel Proust” by Vanity Fair magazine. With over 400 million copies of her books sold in more than forty countries, and with some twenty-seven New York Times bestsellers to her credit, Jackie Collins is one of the world’s top-selling novelists. She is known for giving her readers an unrivalled insider’s knowledge of Hollywood and the glamorous lives and loves of the rich, famous, and infamous! “I write about real people in disguise,” she says. “If anything, my characters are toned down—the truth is much more bizarre.”

Biography

Louis Malle may have branded Jackie Collins a "raunchy moralist," but it wasn't her sense of ethical propriety that had her in a snit when Kenneth Starr dutifully reported to the nation the details of the pseudo-coupling between Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinsky. It was her literary pride. "Everybody said that the Monica Lewinsky stuff in the Starr report was like a Jackie Collins book," she told the Chicago Tribune in 2001, "but if I'd written it, the sex would have been better."

Unquestionably. Jacqueline Susann may be the Emily Bronte of the naughty bits, but Collins is surely Charlotte, having filled her books to the rim with skin since her first novel The World Is Full of Married Men appeared in 1968. Since then, there has been a string of sexy Hollywood moguls, sexy models, sexy wives of Hollywood moguls, sexy divorcées and sexy children of Hollywood moguls in such titles as Chances, Lucky and Throb as well as The Bitch and The Stud (both made into movies starring big sister Joan).

The critics, when they take notice at all, tend to sniff. ("While no one expects Lady Boss to be a literary banquet, certainly a yummy little snack is in order" is about the best to expect from The New York Times.) But those who can look past the satin sheets and champagne flutes see more going on in the Collins canon. Hers is a dissection of the vacuous, viperish entertainment class hiding behind designer sunglasses in Los Angeles. Vanity Fair called her "Hollywood's own Marcel Proust.” The Advocate hinted that she might be the Charles Dickens of Beverly Hills. And Joe Queenan, a Hollywood player himself, said Collins's 1993 novel American Star was nothing less than a lament of the American family's demise.

"It would be easy to self-righteously label this book trashy and worthless -- but it's not entirely either," the Detroit News wrote in a review of Collins's 1983 novel Hollywood Wives. "Jackie Collins has a talent for titillation and a knack for wooing the most reluctant of readers into a plot that spends 15 percent of the time peeking at people in the sack and the other 85 percent daydreaming about it. Deliberately or not, she speaks eloquently of emptiness through the lives of people who would seem to have everything: French poodles, Mexican maids, American Express."

And Judy Bass wrote in the Los Angeles Times that Collins's gimlet eye for detail is what makes her novels such a gas: "Collins caricatures the life styles of the rich and famous with devastating accuracy. She spoofs every nuance of their attire, speech and relationships, never allowing tedium or predictability to dilute the reader's fun."

There are a number of recurring characters in Collins's books, though none better known than Lucky Santangelo, the sexy (natch) film studio owner who has appeared in Lucky, Lady Boss, Vendetta: Lucky's Revenge and Dangerous Kiss. The Lucky series bring together all the required ingredients of a Collins cocktail: the rich and famous, the shifty Hollywood shenanigans, scheming opportunists and a bug-on-the-wall vantage point of every -- or every other -- bedroom in the 90210 zip code.

Time once wrote of a Collins novel that it allowed the reader the rare opportunity to watch adverbs mate. Of course. There's a high art to the lowbrow. The Village Voice, writing in 2000, understood that: "The beauty of the trashy novel is twofold: It's a lightning-quick read, and you can howl in smug superiority as you turn the pages. Lethal Seduction, the latest from well-appointed and leopard-print-swathed Queen of Trash Jackie Collins, is a prime example of page-turning, literary-hauteur-stoking fun."

But it might have been People, reviewing Vendetta: Lucky's Revenge, that most succinctly summed up the contradictory seductiveness of the Jackie Collins novel: "embarrassing to pick up, impossible to put down."

Good To Know

Collins makes a mean meatloaf. "It's the herbs and spices," she told Biography magazine, "and my essence."

Collins spends about a year writing each novel, and does so entirely in longhand.

She eschews the stodgy demands of grammar. "I don't basically understand grammar," she is quoted as saying in Contemporary Popular Writers. "I call myself a street writer. I write purely by instinct. I've decided people don't speak in grammatical conversations.... The important thing is I get people into the bookstores who probably wouldn't be there otherwise."

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    1. Also Known As:
      Jacqueline Jill Collins (full name)
    2. Hometown:
      Los Angeles, California
    1. Date of Birth:
      October 4, 1941
    2. Place of Birth:
      London, England

Read an Excerpt

Chapter One

From: Power

Madison Castelli did not particularly enjoy covering Hollywood stories. Lifestyles of the rich and decadent was not her thing — which is exactly why her editor, Victor Simons, had insisted she was the right person for the assignment. "You're not into all that Hollywood bullshit," he'd said. "You don't want anything from the so-called power elite, which makes you the perfect journalist to get me the real inside story on Mr. Super-Power, Freddie Leon. Besides, you're beautiful, so he'll pay attention."

Ha! Madison thought ruefully as she boarded an American Airlines flight to L.A. I'm so beautiful that three months ago, David, my live-in love of two years, went out for a pack of cigarettes and never came back.

What he did do was leave her a cowardly note all about how he couldn't deal with commitment and would never be able to make her happy. Five weeks later she'd found out he'd married his childhood sweetheart — a vapid blonde with huge boobs and a serious overbite.

So much for avoiding commitment.

Madison was twenty-nine years old and extremely attractive, although she played her good looks down by wearing functional clothes and barely any makeup. But try as she might, nothing could disguise her almond-shaped eyes, sharply defined cheekbones, seductive lips, smooth olive skin, and black unruly hair she usually wore pulled back in a severe ponytail. Not to mention her lithe, five-foot-eight-inch body, with full breasts, narrow waist and long dancer's legs.

Madison did not consider herself beautiful. Her idea of good looks was her mother, Stella — a statuesque blonde whose dreamy eyes and quivering lips reminded most people of Marilyn Monroe.

Looks-wise, Madison took after her father, Michael, the best-looking fifty-eight-year-old in Connecticut. She'd also inherited his steely determination and undeniable charm — two admirable qualities that had not hindered her rise to success as a well-respected writer of revealing profiles of the rich, notorious and powerful.

Madison loved what she did — going for the right angle, discovering the hidden secrets of people in the public eye. Politicians and super-rich business tycoons were her favorite interviews. Movie stars, sports personalities and Hollywood moguls were low on her list. She didn't regard herself as a killer, although she did write with searing honesty, sometimes upsetting the people she wrote about, who were usually sheltered in an all-enveloping cocoon of protective P.R.

Too bad if they didn't like it; she was merely telling the truth.

Settling into her first-class window seat, she glanced around the cabin, spotting Bo Deacon, a well-known TV host with an equally well-known drug habit. Bo did not look well; puffy-faced and slackjawed, he still managed to come to life when the cameras rolled on his popular late-night talk show.

Madison hoped that the seat next to her would remain vacant, but it was not to be. At the last moment a breathy, busty blonde in a micro black leather dress was escorted aboard by two starstruck airline reps who practically carried her to her seat. Madison recognized the girl as Salli T. Turner, the current darling of the tabloids. Salli was the star of Teach!, a half-hour weekly TV sitcom in which she played a comely swimming teacher who visited a different glamorous mansion every week, causing havoc and saving lives — all the while dressed in a minuscule one-piece black rubber swimsuit, which only served to enhance her pneumatic breasts, twenty-inch waist and endless legs.

"Wow!" Salli exclaimed, collapsing into her seat and fluffing out her mane of blond curls. "Just made it!"

"Are you okay, Miss Turner?" asked anxious airline rep number one.

"What can I get you?" asked overeager airline rep number two.

Both men were bug-eyed, staring down her ample cleavage as if they'd never seen anything like it before. And they probably haven't, Madison thought.

"Everything's hunky-dory, guys," Salli said, favoring them with a toothy grin. "My husband's meeting me in L.A. If I'd missed the flight he would've been blue-assed pissed!"

"I can believe that," said airline rep number one, eyes still bugging.

"Me, too!" agreed the other man.

Madison buried her head in Newsweek — the last thing she needed was a conversation with this airhead. She vaguely heard the flight attendant asking the men to leave so they could prepare for takeoff; then, shortly after, the big plane began taxiing down the runway.

Without warning, Salli suddenly clutched Madison's arm, causing her to almost drop her magazine.

"I hate flying," Salli squeaked, big blue eyes blinking rapidly. "I mean, it's not exactly flying I hate, more like crashing."

Carefully Madison prised the girl's fingers off her arm. "Close your eyes, take a deep breath and slowly count to a hundred," she advised. "I'll let you know when we're airborne."

"Gee, thanks," Salli said gratefully. "Didn't think of doing that."

Madison frowned. Clearly this was going to be a long flight. Why couldn't she be stuck next to someone more interesting?

She folded her magazine and gazed out of the window as the plane took off. Unlike Salli, she loved flying. The sudden rush of speed, that exhilarating feeling of excitement when the wheels left the ground, the initial ascent — it always gave her a thrill, however many times she'd done it.

Salli sat silently beside her, eyes squeezed tightly shut, pouty lips slowly mouthing numbers.

By the time she opened her eyes they were in the air. "Radical shit!" Salli exclaimed, turning to Madison. "You're amazing!"

"Nothing to it," Madison murmured.

"No, really," Salli insisted. "Your advice actually worked!"

"I'm glad," Madison said, wishing Miss Rubber Suit (she'd seen the show once — it was titillating trash) would keep her eyes closed for the entire trip.

Rescue arrived in the form of Bo Deacon, who came ambling over holding a glass of Scotch. "Salli, my darling!" he exclaimed. "You look absolutely edible."

"Oh, hi Bo," Salli said guilelessly. "Are you on this plane?"

Smart question, Madison thought wryly. It's so nice to be traveling with intellectuals.

"Yeah, honey, I'm sitting over there," he said, gesturing across the aisle. "Got some old bag next to me. Whyn't we try getting her to trade places?"

Salli fluttered her long fake eyelashes. "How are your ratings going?" she asked, as if that would be the deciding factor on whether she changed seats or not.

"Hardly as hot as yours, babe," he leered. "Whyn't I go back and ask the old bag to move?"

"I'm kinda comfortable where I am," Salli said.

"Don't be silly," Bo said. "We should sit together, that way we can talk about your next appearance on my show. Last time you were on we got better ratings than Howard."

Salli giggled, pleased with the compliment. "I did Howard's E! cable show in New York," she said, small pink tongue licking her jammy lips.

"He's sooo rude, but cute with it."

"You're the first broad I've heard call Howard Stern cute," Bo said, shaking his head.

"Well, he is," Salli said. "He's kind of big and gangly, and he's always talking about his little dick. My guess is he's really got a whopper!"

Madison realized she was actually sitting next to a real live cliché — the definitive Hollywood blonde. If she recounted this exchange to any of her New York friends, they wouldn't believe her.

"You know what?" Madison said, leaning forward, speaking directly to Bo. "If it'll help out, I can change places with you."

Bo noticed her for the first time. "Hey, little lady, that's very sweet of you," he said, putting on his voice that said "I'm a big star, but I can actually be nice to real people."

"Little lady?" Was he kidding?

"On one condition," Salli interrupted.

"What's that, honey?" Bo said.

"I've got to sit next to this woman when we land. She's the greatest. She got me through takeoff. She's like some kind of, you know, magical medicine man."

Bo raised an eyebrow. "Really?" he said, taking another look at Madison. "You one of those broads with special powers, honey? Maybe you should come on my show."

"Thanks for the offer, Mr. Deacon," Madison answered coolly. "I have a hunch you should stick with Max the chimp."

Bo winked. "So you watch the show, huh?"

When I can't sleep, she wanted to say. When I've seen every old movie, and Letterman and Leno are in repeats, and I'm absolutely desperate. "Sometimes," she said, with a pleasant smile, gathering her things, getting up and moving across the aisle to Bo's vacant seat.

The woman he'd referred to as an old bag was an attractive businesswoman in her forties diligently working on her laptop.

"Hi," Madison said. "I'm switching places with Mr. Deacon. Do you mind?"

The woman raised her eyes. "The pleasure is all mine," she said. "I actually thought I'd have to talk to him."

They both laughed.

Madison grinned. This was more her kind of traveling partner.

Copyright © 1998 by Chances, Inc.

Read More Show Less

First Chapter

Chapter One

From: Power

Madison Castelli did not particularly enjoy covering Hollywood stories. Lifestyles of the rich and decadent was not her thing -- which is exactly why her editor, Victor Simons, had insisted she was the right person for the assignment. "You're not into all that Hollywood bullshit," he'd said. "You don't want anything from the so-called power elite, which makes you the perfect journalist to get me the real inside story on Mr. Super-Power, Freddie Leon. Besides, you're beautiful, so he'll pay attention."

Ha! Madison thought ruefully as she boarded an American Airlines flight to L.A. I'm so beautiful that three months ago, David, my live-in love of two years, went out for a pack of cigarettes and never came back.

What he did do was leave her a cowardly note all about how he couldn't deal with commitment and would never be able to make her happy. Five weeks later she'd found out he'd married his childhood sweetheart -- a vapid blonde with huge boobs and a serious overbite.

So much for avoiding commitment.

Madison was twenty-nine years old and extremely attractive, although she played her good looks down by wearing functional clothes and barely any makeup. But try as she might, nothing could disguise her almond-shaped eyes, sharply defined cheekbones, seductive lips, smooth olive skin, and black unruly hair she usually wore pulled back in a severe ponytail. Not to mention her lithe, five-foot-eight-inch body, with full breasts, narrow waist and long dancer's legs.

Madison did not consider herself beautiful. Her idea of good looks was her mother, Stella -- a statuesque blonde whose dreamy eyes and quivering havoc and saving lives -- all the while dressed in a minuscule one-piece black rubber swimsuit, which only served to enhance her pneumatic breasts, twenty-inch waist and endless legs.

"Wow!" Salli exclaimed, collapsing into her seat and fluffing out her mane of blond curls. "Just made it!"

"Are you okay, Miss Turner?" asked anxious airline rep number one.

"What can I get you?" asked overeager airline rep number two.

Both men were bug-eyed, staring down her ample cleavage as if they'd never seen anything like it before. And they probably haven't, Madison thought.

"Everything's hunky-dory, guys," Salli said, favoring them with a toothy grin. "My husband's meeting me in L.A. If I'd missed the flight he would've been blue-assed pissed!"

"I can believe that," said airline rep number one, eyes still bugging.

"Me, too!" agreed the other man.

Madison buried her head in Newsweek -- the last thing she needed was a conversation with this airhead. She vaguely heard the flight attendant asking the men to leave so they could prepare for takeoff; then, shortly after, the big plane began taxiing down the runway.

Without warning, Salli suddenly clutched Madison's arm, causing her to almost drop her magazine.

"I hate flying," Salli squeaked, big blue eyes blinking rapidly. "I mean, it's not exactly flying I hate, more like crashing."

Carefully Madison prised the girl's fingers off her arm. "Close your eyes, take a deep breath and slowly count to a hundred," she advised. "I'll let you know when we're airborne."

"Gee, thanks," Salli said gratefully. "Didn't think of doing that."

Madison frowned. Clearly this was going to be a long flight. Why couldn't she be stuck next to someone more interesting?

She folded her magazine and gazed out of the window as the plane took off. Unlike Salli, she loved flying. The sudden rush of speed, that exhilarating feeling of excitement when the wheels left the ground, the initial ascent -- it always gave her a thrill, however many times she'd done it.

Salli sat silently beside her, eyes squeezed tightly shut, pouty lips slowly mouthing numbers.

By the time she opened her eyes they were in the air. "Radical shit!" Salli exclaimed, turning to Madison. "You're amazing!"

"Nothing to it," Madison murmured.

"No, really," Salli insisted. "Your advice actually worked!"

"I'm glad," Madison said, wishing Miss Rubber Suit (she'd seen the show once -- it was titillating trash) would keep her eyes closed for the entire trip.

Rescue arrived in the form of Bo Deacon, who came ambling over holding a glass of Scotch. "Salli, my darling!" he exclaimed. "You look absolutely edible."

"Oh, hi Bo," Salli said guilelessly. "Are you on this plane?"

Smart question, Madison thought wryly. It's so nice to be traveling with intellectuals.

"Yeah, honey, I'm sitting over there," he said, gesturing across the aisle. "Got some old bag next to me. Whyn't we try getting her to trade places?"

Salli fluttered her long fake eyelashes. "How are your ratings going?" she asked, as if that would be the deciding factor on whether she changed seats or not.

"Hardly as hot as yours, babe," he leered. "Whyn't I go back and ask the old bag to move?"

"I'm kinda comfortable where I am," Salli said.

"Don't be silly," Bo said. "We should sit together, that way we can talk about your next appearance on my show. Last time you were on we got better ratings than Howard."

Salli giggled, pleased with the compliment. "I did Howard's E! cable show in New York," she said, small pink tongue licking her jammy lips.

"He's sooo rude, but cute with it."

"You're the first broad I've heard call Howard Stern cute," Bo said, shaking his head.

"Well, he is," Salli said. "He's kind of big and gangly, and he's always talking about his little dick. My guess is he's really got a whopper!"

Madison realized she was actually sitting next to a real live cliché -- the definitive Hollywood blonde. If she recounted this exchange to any of her New York friends, they wouldn't believe her.

"You know what?" Madison said, leaning forward, speaking directly to Bo. "If it'll help out, I can change places with you."

Bo noticed her for the first time. "Hey, little lady, that's very sweet of you," he said, putting on his voice that said "I'm a big star, but I can actually be nice to real people."

"Little lady?" Was he kidding?

"On one condition," Salli interrupted.

"What's that, honey?" Bo said.

"I've got to sit next to this woman when we land. She's the greatest. She got me through takeoff. She's like some kind of, you know, magical medicine man."

Bo raised an eyebrow. "Really?" he said, taking another look at Madison. "You one of those broads with special powers, honey? Maybe you should come on my show."

"Thanks for the offer, Mr. Deacon," Madison answered coolly. "I have a hunch you should stick with Max the chimp."

Bo winked. "So you watch the show, huh?"

When I can't sleep, she wanted to say. When I've seen every old movie, and Letterman and Leno are in repeats, and I'm absolutely desperate. "Sometimes," she said, with a pleasant smile, gathering her things, getting up and moving across the aisle to Bo's vacant seat.

The woman he'd referred to as an old bag was an attractive businesswoman in her forties diligently working on her laptop.

"Hi," Madison said. "I'm switching places with Mr. Deacon. Do you mind?"

The woman raised her eyes. "The pleasure is all mine," she said. "I actually thought I'd have to talk to him."

They both laughed.

Madison grinned. This was more her kind of traveling partner.

Copyright © 1998 by Chances, Inc.

Read More Show Less

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Sort by: Showing all of 4 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted June 26, 2005

    Keeps your interest

    I read all four of these books in 2 days even though I worked both of them. I have never read anything by this author before and I was not disappointed

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted December 26, 2004

    Best book ever

    I read it in one sitting and it left me yearning for more i didn't want to finish reading it but i couldn't help but turn the pages for more suspense, thrill and sex all in one what more could one ask for!!

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted June 4, 2004

    Worth Reading It !!!

    I read this in one sitting...

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted June 5, 2002

    Power! Obsession! Murder! and Revenge!

    Wow! What an excelent books it left me estonished! Jackie Collins sure knows how to write mystery and murder! Believe me its worth reading! ;-)

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
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