9780593310908: Crazy Rich Asians
Softcover
ISBN 10: 059331090X ISBN 13: 9780593310908
Verlag: Anchor, 2020

Inhaltsangabe

#1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • The international sensation and blockbuster Hollywood rom com. • "A Pride and Prejudice-like send-up about an heir bringing his Chinese-American girlfriend home to meet his ancestor-obsessed family.” —People
 
“Deliciously decadent.... This 48-karat beach read is crazy fun.” —Entertainment Weekly

When New Yorker Rachel Chu agrees to spend the summer in Singapore with her boyfriend, Nicholas Young, she envisions a humble family home and quality time with the man she hopes to marry. But Nick has failed to give his girlfriend a few key details. One, that his childhood home looks like a palace; two, that he grew up riding in more private planes than cars; and three, that he just happens to be the country’s most eligible bachelor. 

On Nick’s arm, Rachel may as well have a target on her back the second she steps off the plane, and soon, her relaxed vacation turns into an obstacle course of old money, new money, nosy relatives, and scheming social climbers.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

KEVIN KWAN is the author of the international bestsellers Crazy Rich Asians, China Rich Girlfriend, Rich People Problems, and Sex and Vanity. Born in Singapore, he has called New York’s West Village home since 1995.

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          As Peik Lin’s car approached the porte cochere of Tyersall Park, Nicholas Young bounded down the front steps. “I was worried you’d gotten lost,” he said, opening the car door.
         “We did get a bit lost, actually,” Rachel replied. 
         “For some strange reason, your grandmother’s house didn’t show up on my GPS,” said Peik Lin, who prided herself on knowing every street in Singapore.
         Rachel got out of the car and stared up at the majestic facade before her. “Am I really late?”
         “No, it’s OK,” Nick said. “Peik Lin—thanks so much for giving Rachel a lift.”
         “Of course,” Peik Lin murmured, rather stunned by her surroundings. She paused, thinking Nick might invite her in for a drink, but no invitation seemed forthcoming. Finally she said as nonchalantly as possible, “This is quite a place—is it your grandmother’s?”
         “Yes,” Nick replied.
         “Has she lived here a long time?” Peik Lin asked, craning to get a better look.
         “Since she was a young girl.”
         What Peik Lin really wanted to ask was, Who on earth is your grandmother? “Well, you two have a great time,” she said instead, winking at Rachel and mouthing Call me later. Rachel gave her friend a quick smile.
         Nick turned to Rachel, looking a little sheepish. “I hope it’s OK . . . but it’s not just the family. My grandmother decided to have a small party at the last minute because her tan hua flowers are going to bloom tonight.”
         “She’s throwing a party because some flowers are in bloom?” Rachel asked.
         “Well, these are very rare. They bloom only about once every decade, and only at night. The whole thing lasts just a few hours. It’s quite something.”
         “Sounds cool, but now I’m feeling really underdressed,” Rachel said, eyeing the fleet of limousines lining the driveway. She was wearing a sleeveless, chocolate-colored linen dress, a pair of low-heeled sandals, and the only expensive piece of jewelry she owned—Mikimoto pearl studs that her mother had given her when she got her doctorate.
         “Not at all—you look absolutely perfect,” Nick replied. 
         As they entered the house, Rachel was transfixed for a few moments by the intricate black, blue, and coral mosaic tile pattern on the floor of what appeared to be a large foyer. Then, to her amazement, a tall, spindly Indian man standing next to a table clustered with pots of enormous white-and-purple phalaenopsis orchids bowed ceremoniously to her.
         “Everyone’s upstairs in the living room,” Nick said, leading Rachel toward a carved-stone staircase. She saw something out of the corner of her eye and let out a quick gasp. By the side of the staircase lurked a huge tiger, mouth open in a ferocious growl.
         “It looks so real!” Rachel said.
         “It was real,” Nick said. “It’s a native Singaporean tiger. They used to roam this area. My great-grandfather shot it when it ran into the house and hid under the billiard table, or so the story goes.”
         “Poor guy,” Rachel said. 
         “It used to scare the hell out of me when I was little. I never dared go near the foyer at night,” Nick said.
         “You grew up here?” Rachel asked in surprise.
         “Yes, until I was about seven.”
         “You never told me you lived in a palace.”
         “This isn’t a palace. It’s just a big house.”
         “Nick, where I come from, this is a palace,” Rachel said, gazing up at the cast-iron-and-glass cupola soaring above them. The murmur of party chatter and piano keys wafted down. As they entered the drawing room, Rachel felt momentarily giddy, as if she had been transported back in time to the grand lounge of a twenties ocean liner, en route from Venice to Istanbul, perhaps.
        
         The “living room,” as Nick so modestly called it, was a gallery that ran along the entire northern end of the house, with Art Deco divans, wicker club chairs, and ottomans casually grouped into intimate seating areas. A row of tall plantation doors opened onto a veranda, inviting a view of verdant parklands and the scent of night-blooming jasmine into the room. At the far end of the room a young man in a tuxedo played on a Bösendorfer grand piano. Rachel longed to study every exquisite detail: the exotic potted palms in massive Qianlong dragon jardinieres, the lacquered teak surfaces, the silver-and-lapis-lazuli-filigreed walls. The glamorous guests, she couldn’t help noticing, appeared completely at ease lounging on the shantung silk ottomans while a retinue of white-gloved servants circulated with trays of cocktails.
         “Here comes my cousin Astrid’s mother,” Nick muttered. A stately-
looking lady approached them, wagging a finger at Nick.
         “Nicky, you naughty boy, why didn’t you tell us you were back?” The woman spoke in a clipped English accent straight out of a Merchant Ivory film. Rachel couldn’t help but notice how her tightly permed black hair fittingly resembled the Queen of England’s.
         “So sorry, I thought you and Uncle Harry would be in London at this time of the year. Dai gu cheh, this is my girlfriend, Rachel Chu. Rachel, this is my auntie Felicity Leong.”
         Felicity nodded at Rachel, boldly scanning her up and down.
         “So nice to meet you,” Rachel said, unsettled by her hawklike gaze.
         “Is Astrid here yet?” Nick asked.
         “Aiyah, you know that girl is always late!” At that moment, his aunt noticed an elderly Indian woman in a gold-and-peacock-blue sari being helped up the stairs. “Dear Mrs. Singh, when did you get back from Udaipur?” she screeched, pouncing on the woman as Nick guided Rachel out of the way.
         “Who is that lady?” Rachel...

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Verlag
Anchor
Erscheinungsdatum
2020
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
059331090X
ISBN 13 
9780593310908
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
576
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
Nicht verfügbar

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