A glamorous fish-out-of-water first novel, Paris Hangover stars Klein, a just-escaped New Yorker with trunk-fulls of fabulous footwear but without the significant relationship she'd really expected and longed to have by now, in her mid-thirties. Fleeing a live-in lover and their sleek Tribeca triplex as well as a career in fashion, Klein stars over in Paris-in a tiny walk-up in the 6th that she had to lie (in broken Franglais) and write a bad check to get, only to discover that, among other things, Parisian apartments don't come with kitchens.
Living out of her ten piece of (Louis Vuitton, natch) luggage, Klein plunges into the mysterious world of French men and dating. She muddles her way through: the sexy Renaud, the prototypical Frenchman; dating three men named Jean simultaneously; and one completely wrong Monsieur Married Man, who wants Klein for his very well-kept mistress.
Set against a backdrop of knowing references to Paris and its unique manners and mores, Paris Hangover is ultimately a very satisfying modern romance as Klein falls-— possibly permanently--for the least likely man to catch her eye.
