Drop Dead Beautiful (Lucky Santangelo Series)

\ Chapter One Drop Dead Beautiful. The three little words were scrawled on the Cartier card Lucky Santangelo had just opened. Hand-delivered, the note had been brought up to the house in Bel Air by Philippe, her houseman, who'd discovered it in the mailbox at the end of the driveway. Drop Dead Beautiful. No signature, no return address. Was it an invitation to an upcoming event too clever for its own good? Whatever. One quick glance at the card, and Lucky tossed it in the trash. Lucky Santangelo. A dangerously seductive woman with blacker-than-night eyes, full sensuous lips, a tangle of long jet-black hair, deep olive skin, and a lithe body. Wherever she went, Lucky still brought a room to a standstill, for not only was she wildly beautiful, she was also a powerhouse--a woman to be reckoned with, a force of nature. Street-smart and forever savvy--Lucky Santangelo had it all. In her past, she'd built hotels in Vegas, owned a major movie studio, and been married three times. She'd also survived much heartache. Her mother, Maria, had been murdered when she was five years old. Her brother, Dario, was shot to death and tossed from a moving car. Then finally her fiancé, Marco, was gunned down in the parking lot of her Vegas hotel. Eventually Lucky had found out that the man who'd ordered the brutal killings was her godfather, Enzio Bonnatti, a man she had always respected and trusted. The information devastated her. Filled with vengeance, she'd lured Enzio into a carefully planned trap at his home, and shot him dead with his own gun, claiming that he'd tried to rape her. It was deemed a clear-cut case of self-defense. Self-defense. Sure. She'd made it look like Bonnatti had been about to rape her, and the D.A. had bought it all the way. No surprise there. Her father, Gino, had major connections. The real truth was that she'd shot the son of a bitch because he'd deserved to die, and she'd never regretted doing so. Justice had taken place. Santangelo justice. Don't fuck with a Santangelo--the family motto. Grabbing her purse from a shelf in the luxurious dressing room, Lucky headed for the door. Everything was large and luxurious in Bel-Air--the privileged enclave of the very rich and famous. The house she and her husband, Lennie, were living in was a short-term rental. Recent storms had wreaked havoc on their home in Malibu and they'd been forced to leave while repairs were being made. The beach was more her style. Bel-Air was too cut off from real life with its winding hillside streets and enormous mansions hidden behind vast gates and high walls of impenetrable greenery. People existed as if they were living under siege, surrounded by multiple security guards and vicious attack dogs. That way of living was not for her. She enjoyed feeling unprotected and free, which was one of the reasons she'd opted out of running Panther Studios several years earlier. Being the head of a Hollywood studio was no nine-to-five job. She'd found herself working seventeen-hour days, leaving no time for family and friends. One morning she'd woken up and thought, That's it, I'm out. She'd had enough of dealing with ego-inflated stars, nervous-for-their-jobs executives, fast-talking agents, neurotic directors, fat-assed producers, and anyone else who thought they could make it in the movie business--which was most people in L.A. So she'd quit running Panther, and after producing one movie, Seduction, starring Venus Maria, and her new discovery, Billy Melina, she'd sold the studio and gotten out of the film business altogether. Lennie was in the movie industry. That was enough for one family. Besides, Lucky had other plans. She was getting back into the hotel business in Vegas--the place where it had all begun for her. Several years ago she'd put together a syndicate of interesting and colorful investors to develop a huge multibillion-dollar complex called the Keys. She'd been working with architects and planners for the last five years, and in less than a month they were about to celebrate the grand opening. Since the hotel project was her baby, she was beyond excited. "Mom!" Max burst into the dressing room without knocking. Max, her sixteen-year-old wild child. Tall and coltlike with smooth olive skin green eyes, an unruly tangle of black curls, and a killer bod, Max was a showstopper. She was also a rebel, playing truant from school on a regular basis. "Here's the thing," Max announced, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. "There's no way I can go to Grandpa's party." "Excuse me?" Lucky questioned, attempting to remain calm. "Y'see, there's this big blowout for one of Cookie's best friends up in Big Bear," Max blurted, speaking too fast. "A whole crowd of us wanna go, so like I can't let Cookie down." "You can't, huh?" Lucky said coolly. "Nope," Max answered, tugging on a stray curl. "Cookie's my best friend an' this is like essential." "You are not missing Gino's birthday," Lucky said firmly. "No way." Max stared balefully at her mom. "Huh?" "You heard me," Lucky said, heading for the door. "I can't believe you'd be this mean," Max complained, trailing behind her. "Mean?" Lucky sighed. This was major déjà vu. It reminded her of all the times she and Gino had gone head to head, and there were too many to remember. "Why do I have to stay for Gino's stupid party?" Max demanded. "It's not as if he'll miss me." "Of course he'll miss you," Lucky insisted, hurrying down the stairs. "He'll like so not," Max grumbled, right behind her. Lucky turned around, shooting her daughter a warning look. "You're getting on my bad side, so stop it." "But--" "No, Max," Lucky said, walking out the front door. "I'm not interested, don't want to hear it." And with those words she got into her red Ferrari and roared off down the driveway. "Crap!" Max shrieked as her mother's car vanished into the distance. "Whassup?" questioned her younger brother, Gino Junior, rounding the corner from the tennis court. "Mom sucks!" Max complained, ignoring Gino Junior's two leering friends, both of whom she knew had a total crush on her. "What she do now?" Gino asked. He was only fifteen, but he was already six feet tall and built like a football player. "She won't let me get out of Grandpa's lame party. That's so pathetic." Ignoring her, Gino Junior raced into the house, followed by his two friends, who couldn't take their eyes off her. "Horny little pricks," she muttered under her breath. "Go jerk off someplace else. Like Siberia." ~ ~ ~ Lucky drove like a race car driver, skillfully weaving in and out of traffic. She turned the CD player on full volume--Usher blasting. Lately Max's behavior was becoming quite a challenge. Everything seemed to turn into an argument. Lucky sighed. It wasn't easy being a parent, especially when in your head you were hardly any older than your own child. A frosted and Botoxed blonde in a shiny new Mercedes cut in front of her, causing her to hit the brakes. "Shit, lady!" Lucky yelled. "Whyn't you learn to fuckin' drive." Not that anyone could hear her, but shouting at other drivers eased the tension, although if Lennie happened to be in the car, it made him crazy. "One of these days someone's gonna get out their car and shoot your ass," he was always warning her. "Yeah, sure," she would reply. "I dare them to." At which point Lennie would shake his head. In his eyes there was no taming Lucky Santangelo. She walked her own path, and that's exactly the way he liked her. Copyright © 2007 by Chances, Inc. All rights reserved.

\ Publishers WeeklyIt's not easy being rich, gorgeous, successful and a happily married mom, but Mafia princess turned Hollywood producer and real estate mogul Lucky Santangelo, last seen in 1999's Dangerous Kiss, again proves up to the challenge. In Collins's latest vendetta romance, Lucky plans her father Gino's 95th birthday bash while building a Las Vegas megaresort, unaware that family foe Anthony Bonar (né Bonnatti) is plotting revenge. In turn, Anthony is unaware of wife Irma's sexual awakening in the arms of their Mexican gardener, who in turn is unaware of Irma's affair with a federal drug enforcement agent. Meanwhile Lucky's 16-year-old daughter, Max, tells her parents she's with friends when she's really headed to a rendezvous with a man she meets on the Internet. That date provides the novel's fast-paced action, while Irma provides the novel's best sex and violence. Less gripping subplots include the on-again off-again relationship between Lucky's business partner, Alex, and his jealous girlfriend, as well as the off-again on-again romance between Lucky's best friend, the diva Venus, and her star-stud boyfriend, Billy. Collins delivers Lucky's usual mix of celebrity fantasy and godfather justice while Max promises to grow up in future sequels as troublesome and triumphant as her glitzy mom. (June)\ Copyright 2007 Reed Business Information\ \ \ \ \ Library JournalFor her 25th novel, Collins brings back Lucky Santangelo, who must contend with a teenaged daughter as out of bounds as she is and an enemy determined to wipe out everything she's got. With a national tour. Copyright 2006 Reed Business Information.\ \ \ Kirkus ReviewsCollins' 25th is a silver-anniversary sleaze-fest starring "Lady Boss" Lucky Santangelo in a supporting role. Somewhere around 40-plus (nobody knows how plus), Lucky stopped aging. Long married (by Tinseltown standards) to soul mate Lennie Golden, she's abandoned movie moguldom and reverted to her roots: ruling Vegas. Her mammoth resort/condo/casino, The Keys, is about to open. But Lucky is preoccupied with the 95th birthday bash she's hosting for her father, ex-mob boss Gino, at her Bel Air mansion. Elegant hand-delivered missives instructing Lucky to "Drop dead Beautiful" are mere annoyances compared to worries about her teenage daughter Maria, aka Max, who hasn't returned from a supposed outing with friends in time for Gino's party. Lucky's Vegas banker has also disappeared, after a blind date with drug lord Anthony Bonnatti, aka Bonar, grandson of mob matriarch Francesca Bonnatti. Francesca is after Anthony to blow up the Keys and win the long-running (six books so far) Santangelo-Bonnatti blood feud. Leaving the pyrotechnics and banker body disposal to the experts, Anthony must contend with two mistresses who feign orgasms (not that he cares) and whiny wife Irma, a virtual prisoner at his Mexico City villa. After bearing him two children, now spoiled teenagers running designer-shod over their nanny at Bonar's Miami digs, Irma is of no further use to Anthony. However, lately she's taken up with a handsome gardener-no feigning required. In a remote cabin, Max is shackled to a bed by a man she met online, Henry Whitfield-Simmons, heir to a fortune-if only his uncooperatively healthy 70ish mother would kick the bucket. Henry blames Lucky for destroying his acting chances when she hiredthen-unknown Billy Melina to star opposite arch-diva Venus, in an Oscar-magnet director's new flick. After her harrowing escape, Max is grounded forever, at least until the Keys opening, where the plot lines and characters converge in fireworks galore. Despite phoned-in thrills, a breathless hurtle to the "explainer" epilogue. First printing of 400,000\ \ \ \ \ From the Publisher\ Praise for Lovers & Players:"Scandal galore, a cast of beautiful people (with issues) and lively descriptions that are always fun to read….pure, unadulterated Collins."\ -Romantic Times\ "A totally delicious read."\ -Complete Woman\ "Another page-turning tale packed with intrigue, revenge and romance."\ -Publishers Weekly\ "A decadent concoction sure to appeal…a fast lane take on the lives of the rich and fabulous."\ -Kirkus\ "Vintage Collins here: Sex, love, betrayal and deception. Her fans will certainly enjoy."\ -Booklist\ "Collins is back with another sexy page-turner."\ -New York Post\ "A classic Collins fiasco. Love, murder, glamour, sex, and betrayal are all covered, natch."\ -OK! magazine\ \ \