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Lady Boss (Lucky Santangelo Series)

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Overview

The dangerously beautiful Lucky — star of two of Jackie Collins' previous smash, international number one bestsellers, Chances and Lucky — returns in Lady Boss. And this time the shockingly sensual, ruthlessly clever Lucky is out to conquer Hollywood!
In Chances Lucky grew up in a top crime family. In Lucky, she was married three times. And now, in Lady Boss, she takes on Hollywood and wins!
Panther Studios is the prize and Lucky wants it... In...

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Overview

The dangerously beautiful Lucky — star of two of Jackie Collins' previous smash, international number one bestsellers, Chances and Lucky — returns in Lady Boss. And this time the shockingly sensual, ruthlessly clever Lucky is out to conquer Hollywood!
In Chances Lucky grew up in a top crime family. In Lucky, she was married three times. And now, in Lady Boss, she takes on Hollywood and wins!
Panther Studios is the prize and Lucky wants it... In her quest for power she meets adversaries and enemies, friends and betrayers. And her relationship with her husband, charismatic comedian and movie star, Lennie Golden is put to the test.
Lucky's first challenge is to buy the only movie studio still not controlled by a powerful conglomerate — Panther Studios, owned by the retired, irascible, old Abe Panther. But Abe won't sell his beloved studio to Lucky until she proves she has the guts to make it in Hollywood. It's his idea that she disguise herself as a secretary and go in undercover to find out what's really going on. It's a challenge that also satisfies Lucky's passion for adventure — and her desire to take chances...
In the process, Lucky uncovers a world of financial scheming, big-time betrayal, and bizarre sex.
Panther Studios and Lucky Santangelo... a dangerous mix...
When Lucky makes her final move, assuming the role of Lady Boss at Panther Studios, she stuns the entire industry and sets off a series of shock waves, not only threatening her marriage to Lennie, but bringing down on her head the hatred of crime boss Carlos Bonnatti — a hatred that goes back generations, putting in peril her life, and the lives of everyone close to her!
With Lady Boss, Jackie Collins brings back one of her most intriguing and endearing characters, Lucky Santangelo. She also proves once again that she is the unquestioned queen of glamorous fiction.

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Editorial Reviews

Jill Gerston
Effusive descriptions, shameless name-dropping and long torrid love scenes aren't in Ms. Collins's lexicon, at least in this book. Rather, she writes in a brisk, let's-get-on-with-it style that suggests even she has trouble sustaining enthusiasm for the narrative....Never a stickler for character development, Ms. Collins creates people so wooden they could be made into coffee tables. In ''Lady Boss,'' they shuttle through the chapters, engaging in perfunctory, cliched dialogue....Even Ms. Collins's trademark steamy sex scenes are reduced to passionless quickies in a bedroom or limousine. -- New York Times
Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly
Lucky Santangelo hopes to surprise her husband by purchasing a film studio in this ``hilarious satire of Hollywood passion, porn and politics.'' Also featured is lusty singer Venus Maria, whose macho brother sells her out to the tabloids. According to PW , ``Collins's raunchy effervescence has a moral edge, making butts of male arrogance and vanity, and urging Hollywood to say no to films that hawk sexism and brutality . '' Author tour. (Aug.)
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780671023478
  • Publisher: Pocket Books
  • Publication date: 2/28/1998
  • Series: Lucky Santangelo Series
  • Format: Mass Market Paperback
  • Edition description: REVISED
  • Pages: 640
  • Sales rank: 142,890
  • Product dimensions: 6.70 (w) x 4.30 (h) x 1.40 (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 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 more than 500 million copies of her books sold in more than forty countries, and with some thirty 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 unrivaled 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.”

Visit Jackie’s website www.jackiecollins.com, and follow her on Instagram and Twitter at JackieJCollins, Facebook at www.facebook.com/jackiecollins and Pinterest at www.pinterest.com/jackiejcollins.

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 the very beginning they were destined to be a lethal combination —
Lucky Santangelo and Lennie Golden. Two stubborn, crazy, smart people.

Lennie was tall and lanky, with dirty-blond hair and ocean-green eyes. He was
good-looking in an edgy, offhand way. Women loved his looks. At thirty-seven,
he'd finally made it as a movie star. He was the new breed — a comedian of the
Eddie Murphy/Chevy Chase school. Cynical and funny, his films made big bucks —
the bottom line in Hollywood.

Lucky Santangelo Richmond Stanislopoulos Golden was the thrice married daughter
of the notorious Gino Santangelo. In her early thirties, she was darkly,
exotically beautiful, with a tangle of wild jet curls, dangerous, black eyes,
smooth, olive skin, a full sensual mouth, and a slim body. She was a fiercely
independent, strong-willed woman who never compromised and always took
chances.

Together they generated blazing heat. They'd been married for nearly a year,
and both looked forward to their wedding anniversary in September with a
mixture of delight and amazement. Delight, because they loved each other very
much. Amazement, because who'd ever thought it would last?

Currently Lennie was in Los Angeles shooting Macho Man for Panther
Studios. The film was a comedy takeoff on all the Hollywood superheroes —
Eastwood, Stallone, and Schwarzenegger.

They'd rented a beach house in Malibu, but while Lennie was filming, Lucky
chose to stay in New York where she headed a billion-dollar shipping
company — left to her by her second husband, Dimitri Stanislopoulos. She also had
wanted Bobby, her six-and-a-half-year-old son by Dimitri, to be educated in
England, and being in New York meant she was closer to his English school.

On most weekends she either visited Bobby in London or Lennie in Los Angeles.
"My life is one long plane ride," she joked ruefully to friends. But everyone
knew Lucky thrived on activity, and to sit by Lennie's side playing movie
star's wife would have bored her. As it was, they had a volatile and passionate
marriage.

Macho Man was causing Lennie nothing but problems. Every night he called
Lucky with a litany of complaints. She listened patiently while he told her the
producer was a jerk; the director was a has-been lush; his leading lady was
sharing her bed with the producer; and Panther Studios was run by money-mad
grafters. He wanted out.

Lucky listened, smiling to herself. She was working on a deal that — if all
went according to plan-would free him from the restrictions of answering to a
director he didn't respect, a producer he loathed, and a studio run by people
he never planned to do business with again-even though he'd foolishly, against
her advice, signed a three picture contract with Panther.

"I'm about ready to walk," he threatened for the hundredth time.

"Don't," she said, attempting to soothe him.

"I can't make it with these assholes," he groaned.

"Those assholes can sue you for a fortune. And stop you working
elsewhere," she added, the perfect voice of reason.

"Fuck 'em!" he replied recklessly.

"Don't do anything until I get out there," she warned. "Promise me that."

"When, for crissakes? I'm beginning to feel like a virgin."

A throaty chuckle. "Hmm. . . I didn't know you had that good a memory!"

"Hurry it up, Lucky. I really miss you.

"Maybe I'll be there sooner than you think," she said mysteriously.

"I'm sure you'll recognize me," he said dryly. "I'm the guy with the permanent
hard-on."

"Very funny." Still smiling, she replaced the receiver.

Lennie Golden would be shocked and delighted when he found out her surprise.
And when he did, she planned to be right there next to him, ready to enjoy the
expression on his face.

Once he put the phone down, Lennie felt restless. His wife was the most
exciting woman in the world, but damn it — she pissed him off. Why couldn't she
say, "Lennie, if things are tough I'll be right there." Why couldn't she forget
everything else and be with him?

Lucky Santangelo. Drop dead gorgeous. Strong. Determined. Enormously rich. And
too independent.

Lucky Santangelo. His wife.

Sometimes it all seemed like a fantasy — their marriage, his career,
everything. Six years ago he'd been just another comedian looking to score a
gig, a few bucks, anything going.

Lennie Golden. Son of crusty old Jack Golden, a stand-up Vegas hack, and the
unstoppable Alice. Or "Alice the Swizzle" as his mother was known in her heyday
as a now-you-see-'em, now-you-don't Las Vegas stripper. He'd split for New York
when he was seventeen and made it all the way without any help from his
folks.

His father was long dead, but Alice was still around. Sixty-five years old and
frisky as an overbleached starlet, Alice Golden was caught in a time warp.
She'd never come to terms with getting older, and the only reason she
acknowledged Lennie as her son was because of his fame. "I was a child bride,"
she'd simper to anyone who'd listen, batting her fake lashes and curling her
overpainted lips in a lascivious leer. "I gave birth to Lennie when I was
twelve!"

Lennie had bought her a small house in Sherman Oaks. She wasn't thrilled at
being shunted out to the Valley, but what could she do? Alice Golden lived with
the dream that one day she'd be a star herself, and then, as far as she was
concerned, they could all watch out.

"You're wanted on the set, Mr. Golden," said Cristi, the second assistant,
appearing at the door of his trailer.

Cristi was a California natural blonde with an earnest expression and
extra-long legs encased in patched dungarees. Lennie knew she was a natural
blonde because Joey Firello, his friend and cohort in Macho Man had been
there, and when it came to women, Joey had a notoriously big mouth — not to
mention a notoriously big dick, which he'd affectionately christened Joey
Senior.

Lennie, however, wasn't even interested. Since Lucky had entered his life he
couldn't be bothered to look, and he really didn't appreciate Joey's giving him
a rundown of the sexual habits of every female on the set. "You're just
jealous, man," Joey had laughed when he'd complained. "Out of action an'
gettin' no action, huh?"

Lennie had merely shaken his head and given Joey a "Why don't you grow up?"
expression. Once he'd been a serious cocksman. "If it's blond and it moves,
nail it" had been his motto. For years he'd explored every possibility,
managing to avoid any lasting commitments.

Along the way there'd been a few women who'd left their mark. Eden Antonio, for
one.

Ah, Eden, he thought ruefully. She was something else, a real operator.

Poor Eden. In spite of all her dreams she'd ended up living with a vicious
mobster who had used her in a series of porno movies. Not exactly the future
she'd planned for herself.

And then there was Olympia. He'd married the plump, spoiled shipping heiress
because he'd felt sorry for her. Unfortunately, even he was unable to save her
from her self-destructive excesses. Eventually she and spaced-out rock star
Flash overdosed in a sleazy New York hotel, and Lennie was a free man.

Now he had Lucky, and life didn't get any better.

Grabbing a pack of cigarettes from the dresser, he said, "O.K., Cristi, I'm on
my way."

The girl nodded thankfully, earnest expression firmly in place.

Marisa puckered up luscious swollen lips and blew him a kiss. She'd been after
him from their first meeting. He'd managed to remain totally uninterested. Even
if he didn't have Lucky, he'd never been turned on by silicone.

"Hi, Lennie, cookie," she crooned, erect nipples straining in his direction.

Shit! he thought. Another fun day at the studio.

Lucky hurried from the tall chrome-and-glass Park Avenue building that still
bore the Stanislopoulos name. She had no desire to change it. One day
everything would belong to her son, Bobby, and Dimitri's granddaughter,
Brigette, so the name stayed.

Lucky was extremely fond of Brigette. The sixteen-year-old reminded her of
Olympia, the girl's mother, at the same age. Olympia and Lucky had once been
close friends. But that was long ago and far away, and a lot had happened since
their out-of-control teenage years when they'd attended boarding school in
Switzerland and ended up getting expelled.

Olympia's young death had been a senseless tragedy. Its only positive aspect
had been the release of Lennie from a lifetime of burdensome
responsibility.

Occasionally she'd felt guilty that everything had worked out so well. But what
the hell — that was life. Hers hadn't exactly been a day at the beach. At the age
of five she'd discovered her mother's body floating in the family swimming
pool. Then, years later, Marco, her first love, was gunned down in the parking
lot of the Magiriano Hotel. Shortly after, Dario, her brother, was shot to
death. Three tragic murders.

Lucky had taken her revenge. She was a Santangelo after all. Don't fuck with
a Santangelo —
the family motto.

As soon as she walked out of the building she spotted Boogie lounging against
the side of a dark green Mercedes. When he saw his boss striding purposefully
toward him, he leaped to attention, quickly throwing open the passenger
door.

Boogie was her driver, bodyguard, and friend. They'd been together many years
and his loyalty was unquestioning. He was long-haired, tall, and skinny, with
an uncanny ability to be there always when she needed him. Boogie knew her
better than almost anyone.

"The airport," she said, sliding onto the front seat.

"Are we in a hurry?" he asked.

Lucky's black eyes flickered with amusement. "We're always in a hurry,"
she replied. "Isn't that what life's all about?"

Copyright © 1990 Jackie Collins

Read More Show Less

Table of Contents

Read More Show Less

First Chapter

Chapter One:

From the very beginning they were destined to be aLucky Santangelo and Lennie Golden. Two stubborn, crazy, smart people.

Lennie was tall and lanky, with dirty-blond hair and ocean-green eyes. He was good-looking in an edgy, offhand way. Women loved his looks. At thirty-seven, he'd finally made it as a movie star. He was the new breed -- a comedian of the Eddie Murphy/Chevy Chase school. Cynical and funny, his films made big bucks -- the bottom line in Hollywood.

Lucky Santangelo Richmond Stanislopoulos Golden was the thrice married daughter of the notorious Gino Santangelo. In her early thirties, she was darkly, exotically beautiful, with a tangle of wild jet curls, dangerous, black eyes, smooth, olive skin, a full sensual mouth, and a slim body. She was a fiercely independent, strong-willed woman who never compromised and always took chances.

Together they generated blazing heat. They'd been married for nearly a year, and both looked forward to their wedding anniversary in September with a mixture of delight and amazement. Delight, because they loved each other very much. Amazement, because who'd ever thought it would last?

Currently Lennie was in Los Angeles shooting Macho Man for Panther Studios. The film was a comedy takeoff on all the Hollywood superheroes -- Eastwood, Stallone, and Schwarzenegger.

They'd rented a beach house in Malibu, but while Lennie was filming, Lucky chose to stay in New York where she headed a billion-dollar shipping company -- left to her by her second husband, Dimitri Stanislopoulos. She also had wanted Bobby, her six-and-a-half-year-old son by Dimitri, to be educated in England, and being in New York meant she was closer to his English school.

On most weekends she either visited Bobby in London or Lennie in Los Angeles. "My life is one long plane ride," she joked ruefully to friends. But everyone knew Lucky thrived on activity, and to sit by Lennie's side playing movie star's wife would have bored her. As it was, they had a volatile and passionate marriage.

Macho Man was causing Lennie nothing but problems. Every night he called Lucky with a litany of complaints. She listened patiently while he told her the producer was a jerk; the director was a has-been lush; his leading lady was sharing her bed with the producer; and Panther Studios was run by money-mad grafters. He wanted out.

Lucky listened, smiling to herself. She was working on a deal that -- if all went according to plan-would free him from the restrictions of answering to a director he didn't respect, a producer he loathed, and a studio run by people he never planned to do business with again-even though he'd foolishly, against her advice, signed a three picture contract with Panther.

"I'm about ready to walk," he threatened for the hundredth time.

"Don't," she said, attempting to soothe him.

"I can't make it with these assholes," he groaned.

"Those assholes can sue you for a fortune. And stop you working elsewhere," she added, the perfect voice of reason.

"Fuck 'em!" he replied recklessly.

"Don't do anything until I get out there," she warned. "Promise me that."

"When, for crissakes? I'm beginning to feel like a virgin."

A throaty chuckle. "Hmm. . . I didn't know you had that good a memory!"

"Hurry it up, Lucky. I really miss you.

"Maybe I'll be there sooner than you think," she said mysteriously.

"I'm sure you'll recognize me," he said dryly. "I'm the guy with the permanent hard-on."

"Very funny." Still smiling, she replaced the receiver.

Lennie Golden would be shocked and delighted when he found out her surprise. And when he did, she planned to be right there next to him, ready to enjoy the expression on his face.

Once he put the phone down, Lennie felt restless. His wife was the most exciting woman in the world, but damn it -- she pissed him off. Why couldn't she say, "Lennie, if things are tough I'll be right there." Why couldn't she forget everything else and be with him?

Lucky Santangelo. Drop dead gorgeous. Strong. Determined. Enormously rich. And too independent.

Lucky Santangelo. His wife.

Sometimes it all seemed like a fantasy -- their marriage, his career, everything. Six years ago he'd been just another comedian looking to score a gig, a few bucks, anything going.

Lennie Golden. Son of crusty old Jack Golden, a stand-up Vegas hack, and the unstoppable Alice. Or "Alice the Swizzle" as his mother was known in her heyday as a now-you-see-'em, now-you-don't Las Vegas stripper. He'd split for New York when he was seventeen and made it all the way without any help from his folks.

His father was long dead, but Alice was still around. Sixty-five years old and frisky as an overbleached starlet, Alice Golden was caught in a time warp. She'd never come to terms with getting older, and the only reason she acknowledged Lennie as her son was because of his fame. "I was a child bride," she'd simper to anyone who'd listen, batting her fake lashes and curling her overpainted lips in a lascivious leer. "I gave birth to Lennie when I was twelve!"

Lennie had bought her a small house in Sherman Oaks. She wasn't thrilled at being shunted out to the Valley, but what could she do? Alice Golden lived with the dream that one day she'd be a star herself, and then, as far as she was concerned, they could all watch out.

"You're wanted on the set, Mr. Golden," said Cristi, the second assistant, appearing at the door of his trailer.

Cristi was a California natural blonde with an earnest expression and extra-long legs encased in patched dungarees. Lennie knew she was a natural blonde because Joey Firello, his friend and cohort in Macho Man had been there, and when it came to women, Joey had a notoriously big mouth -- not to mention a notoriously big dick, which he'd affectionately christened Joey Senior.

Lennie, however, wasn't even interested. Since Lucky had entered his life he couldn't be bothered to look, and he really didn't appreciate Joey's giving him a rundown of the sexual habits of every female on the set. "You're just jealous, man," Joey had laughed when he'd complained. "Out of action an' gettin' no action, huh?"

Lennie had merely shaken his head and given Joey a "Why don't you grow up?" expression. Once he'd been a serious cocksman. "If it's blond and it moves, nail it" had been his motto. For years he'd explored every possibility, managing to avoid any lasting commitments.

Along the way there'd been a few women who'd left their mark. Eden Antonio, for one.

Ah, Eden, he thought ruefully. She was something else, a real operator.

Poor Eden. In spite of all her dreams she'd ended up living with a vicious mobster who had used her in a series of porno movies. Not exactly the future she'd planned for herself.

And then there was Olympia. He'd married the plump, spoiled shipping heiress because he'd felt sorry for her. Unfortunately, even he was unable to save her from her self-destructive excesses. Eventually she and spaced-out rock star Flash overdosed in a sleazy New York hotel, and Lennie was a free man.

Now he had Lucky, and life didn't get any better.

Grabbing a pack of cigarettes from the dresser, he said, "O.K., Cristi, I'm on my way."

The girl nodded thankfully, earnest expression firmly in place.

Marisa puckered up luscious swollen lips and blew him a kiss. She'd been after him from their first meeting. He'd managed to remain totally uninterested. Even if he didn't have Lucky, he'd never been turned on by silicone.

"Hi, Lennie, cookie," she crooned, erect nipples straining in his direction.

Shit! he thought. Another fun day at the studio.

Lucky hurried from the tall chrome-and-glass Park Avenue building that still bore the Stanislopoulos name. She had no desire to change it. One day everything would belong to her son, Bobby, and Dimitri's granddaughter, Brigette, so the name stayed.

Lucky was extremely fond of Brigette. The sixteen-year-old reminded her of Olympia, the girl's mother, at the same age. Olympia and Lucky had once been close friends. But that was long ago and far away, and a lot had happened since their out-of-control teenage years when they'd attended boarding school in Switzerland and ended up getting expelled.

Olympia's young death had been a senseless tragedy. Its only positive aspect had been the release of Lennie from a lifetime of burdensome responsibility.

Occasionally she'd felt guilty that everything had worked out so well. But what the hell -- that was life. Hers hadn't exactly been a day at the beach. At the age of five she'd discovered her mother's body floating in the family swimming pool. Then, years later, Marco, her first love, was gunned down in the parking lot of the Magiriano Hotel. Shortly after, Dario, her brother, was shot to death. Three tragic murders.

Lucky had taken her revenge. She was a Santangelo after all. Don't fuck with a Santangelo -- the family motto.

As soon as she walked out of the building she spotted Boogie lounging against the side of a dark green Mercedes. When he saw his boss striding purposefully toward him, he leaped to attention, quickly throwing open the passenger door.

Boogie was her driver, bodyguard, and friend. They'd been together many years and his loyalty was unquestioning. He was long-haired, tall, and skinny, with an uncanny ability to be there always when she needed him. Boogie knew her better than almost anyone.

"The airport," she said, sliding onto the front seat.

"Are we in a hurry?" he asked.

Lucky's black eyes flickered with amusement. "We're always in a hurry," she replied. "Isn't that what life's all about?"

Copyright © 1990 Jackie Collins

Read More Show Less

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Sort by: Showing all of 11 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted September 3, 2014

    Kick butt book.

    Love this series. Gotta read it

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  • Posted July 14, 2014

    Another great Jackie Collins book in the Lucky series. You get a

    Another great Jackie Collins book in the Lucky series. You get a chance to see Lucky conquer the world again by buying a movie studio. She is definity one of life's winners. It's fun to see what Lucky does next!

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  • Posted April 11, 2014

    recommended for those who like sultry reading

    jackie collins at her best with this Lucky lady....I love all the books with her in them....very spicy reading and action packed...I am getting all these books in the series

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  • Posted May 8, 2013

    Hey!!! I want to see this in e-book format as well. How are you

    Hey!!! I want to see this in e-book format as well. How are you supposed to catch up when all the books in the series are not available as e-books!!!! Stephanie

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  • Posted April 11, 2013

    Good book, would like to see it as an e-book.

    Good book, would like to see it as an e-book.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 11, 2001

    BIG JACKIE FAN

    Lady Boss was my first book by Ms. Collins, that was 7 yrs and many many Jackie Collins' books ago. I'd give all of her books 5 stars!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 2, 2014

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted November 2, 2008

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted March 1, 2014

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted December 28, 2013

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted March 9, 2009

    No text was provided for this review.

Sort by: Showing all of 11 Customer Reviews

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