Revenge Wears Prada - Lauren Weisberger - Free download as PDF File .pdf), Text File .txt) or read online for free. Read an excerpt of Revenge Wears Prada. Revenge Wears Prada: The Devil Returns by Lauren Weisberger - Exclusive Preview! - Free download as PDF File .pdf), Text File .txt) or read online for free. Revenge Wears Prada. View PDF. book | Fiction | US & Canada → Atria the follow-up to the sensational number one bestseller The Devil Wears Prada.

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Simon Schuster, , ISBN: , pages, PDF, English. The sequel you ve been waiting for: the follow-up to the sensational 1 bestseller The Devil. File Name: Revenge Wears Prada: The Devil Returns Total Downloads: Formats: djvu | pdf | epub | site. Rated: /10 (04 votes). Check out the World. THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA. LAUREN WEISBERGER .. copy ofWomen's Wear Daily for the first time since I'd walked in. —I specifically requested that you.

I have absolutely nothing but the utmost loathing and contempt for our main character. Andy is immature, she is self-indulgent, she is insufferably righteous, she is a drama queen; if she were a British citizen, she would have received the Order of the British Empire for her brilliant fucking ability to turn a molehill into a mountain.

It has been 10 years since The Devil Wears Prada. You wouldn't fucking know it from Andy's personality. In 10 years, people change, mostly for the better. They mature, they grow wiser, they ability to make sound judgment increases. Not so with our little treasure, Andy. I know that success in life doesn't always equal security within yourself, but it is completely unbelievable to me how Andy has managed to become so successful in her career while having the mental thought process of an overdramatic year old girl.

Oh nooooooo he must be cheating. It's his fault. His fault.

And that she does. Andy puts in no effort towards her relationship.

Her two-hundred-dollar Burberry umbrella had refused to open and nally snapped when she tried to force it; the cropped rabbit jacket with the oversize collar and no hood cinched fabulously around her waist but did nothing to stop the bone-chilling cold; and the brand-new stacked suede Prada pumps cheered her with their poppy fuchsia color but left the better part of her foot exposed.

Even her skinny leggings left her legs feeling naked, the wind making the leather feel as protective as a pair of a silk stockings.

Already the fteen inches that had blanketed New York were beginning to melt into a slushy gray mess, and Andy wished for the thousandth time that she lived anywhere but here. As if to punctuate her thought, a taxi barreled through a yellow light and blared its horn at Andy, who had committed the grievous crime of trying to cross the street. She restrained herself. Considering the size of her heels, she made decent progress for the next two or three blocks.

She was consoling herself with the promise of a hot coffee and maybe, just maybe, a chocolate chip cookie, when suddenly, somewhere, she heard that ring. Where was it coming from?

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Andy glanced around, but her fellow pedestrians didnt seem to notice the sound, which was growing louder every second. That ringtone. She would recognize it anywhere for as long as she lived, although Andy was surprised they were still making phones with it.

She simply hadnt heard it in so long and yet. She knew before she pulled her phone from her bag what she would nd, but she was still shocked to see those two words on her caller ID screen: She would not answer. Could not. Andy took a deep breath, hit ignore, and tossed the phone back into her bag. It started ringing again almost immediately. Andy could feel her heart begin to beat faster, and it got more and more difcult to ll her lungs.

Inhale, exhale, she instructed herself, tucking her chin to protect her face from what was now pounding sleet, and just keep walking.


She was less than two blocks from the restaurantshe could see it lit up ahead like a warm, shimmering promisewhen a particularly nasty gust propelled her forward, causing her to lose her balance and step directly into one of the worst parts of a Manhattan winter: Which is exactly what Andy did, right there in the pool of hell that had accumulated between the street and the curb.

She stood, amingo-like, perched gracefully on one submerged foot,. Around her, people gave her and the slushy little lake wide berth, only those with knee-high rubber boots daring to tromp directly through the middle.

But no one offered her a hand and, realizing that the puddle had a large enough perimeter that she couldnt jump to escape in any one direction, she steeled herself for another shock of cold and placed her left foot beside her right.

The icy water rushed up her legs and came to a stop on her lower calf, subsuming both fuchsia shoes and a good ve inches of leather pant, and it was all Andy could do not to cry.

Her shoes and leggings were ruined; her feet felt like she might lose them to frostbite; she had no option for extricating herself from the mess except continuing to slog through it; and all Andy could think was, Thats exactly what you get for screening Miranda Priestly.

There wasnt time to dwell on her misery, though, because as soon as she made it to the curb and stopped to evaluate the damage, her phone rang again. It had been ballsyhell, downright recklessto ignore the rst call.

Revenge Wears Prada - Lauren Weisberger

She simply couldnt do it again. Dripping, shivering, and near tears, Andy tapped the screen and said hello. Is that you? Youve already been gone for an eternity. Ill ask you only one time. I simply wont be kept waiting like this. Of course its me, Andy thought. You dialed my number.

Who else would be answering? Im so sorry, Miranda. Its really horrid out right now, and Im trying my best to Ill expect you back here immediately.

Thats all. And before Andy could say another word, the line was disconnected. No matter that the icy water trapped in her shoes was squishing around her toes in the most disgustingly imaginable way, or that it had been hard enough to walk in those heels when they. Andy began to run. She sprinted as best she could down one block and had only one more to go when she heard someone calling her name. Andy, stop!

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Its me! Stop running! She would recognize that voice anywhere.

But what was Max doing there? He was away that weekend, upstate somewhere, for a reason she couldnt quite remember. Wasnt he? She stopped and turned, searching for him.

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Over here, Andy! And then she spotted him. Her anc, with his thick black hair and piercing green eyes and rugged good looks, was sitting astride an enormous white horse. Andy didnt particularly like horses ever since shed fallen from one in second grade and shattered her right wrist, but that horse looked friendly enough. Never mind that Max was riding a white horse in midtown Manhattan in the middle of a blizzardAndy was so ecstatic to see him, she didnt even think to question it.

He dismounted with the ease of a practiced rider, and Andy tried to remember if hed ever mentioned playing polo.

In three long strides he was at her side, enveloping her in the warmest, most delicious embrace imaginable, and she felt her whole body relax as she collapsed into him. My poor baby, he murmured, paying neither the horse nor the staring pedestrians any mind.

You must be freezing out here. The sound of a phonethat phonerang out between them, and Andy scrambled to answer it. I dont know what part of immediately you dont understand, but Andys whole body was shaking as Mirandas shrill voice drilled into her ear, but before she could move a single muscle, Max plucked the phone from her ngertips, tapped end on the screen, and tossed it with perfect aim directly into the puddle.

Even better, Andy has met the love of her life. Max Harrison, scion of a storied media family, is confident, successful, and drop-dead gorgeous. Their wedding will be splashed across all the society pages as their friends and family gather to toast the glowing couple.

Andy Sachs is on top of the world. And when she discovers a secret letter with crushing implications, her wedding-day jitters turn to cold dread. Andy realizes that nothing—not her husband, nor her beloved career— is as it seems. She never suspected that her efforts to build a bright new life would lead her back to the darkness she barely escaped ten years ago—and directly into the path of the devil herself.

Reviews The Devil Wears Prada: This sequel is, well, underwhelming, and perhaps inevitably so. When the novel opens, it has been ten years since Andy Sachs dumped her job and told the ultimate boss from hell, fashion editor Miranda Priestly, precisely what she could do with said job -- in the midst of the Paris fashion shows. But if you were expecting she'd go on to write thoughtful and analytical articles for the New Yorker, well, think again.She never suspected that her efforts to build a bright new life would lead her back to the darkness she barely escaped ten years ago—and directly into the path of the devil herself.

Andy took a deep breath and her pragmatism kicked in: wedding-day jitters. Max saved it?

Can you hear me, sweetheart? Emily sneaked a cigarette in the bridal suite bathroom, thinking no one would notice.

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