{"product_id":"dating-game-isbn-9780440240754","title":"Dating Game","description":"In her 57th bestselling novel, Danielle Steel brilliantly chronicles the roller-coaster  ride of dating the second time around—and tells a captivating story of the surprises  one woman encounters when she’s thrust into the terrifying, exhilarating world of  the \u003cb\u003eDating Game\u003c\/b\u003e.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e Paris Armstrong never saw it coming. With two grown children and  a lovely home in Connecticut, Paris was happy with her marriage, her family, her  life. So when her husband of twenty-four years said they needed to talk, Paris couldn’ t imagine what he was about to say.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e “I want a divorce,” Peter tells her. Just like  that, the husband she adored had dumped her for a younger woman. And just like that,  Peter and his thirty-one-year-old lover had made their plans for their future, leaving  Paris to pick up the pieces of a shattered life. Within days, Peter was gone. And  Paris was left to figure out how she intended to get through the next day, let alone  the rest of her life.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e The task could not have been more painful.  First came the  tears. Then the excruciating attempts by well-meaning friends to “fix her up” with  men who paled in comparison to Peter.  Worse yet, she still loved him.  Finally,  Paris realized she was in a fight for her very survival. Drastic measures were called  for. Even her shrink agreed. It was time to move—as far away as possible, just after  Peter remarried.  Paris had never felt, or been, more alone.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e Saying good-bye to  the world she knew and loved, Paris heads west, to San Francisco, and discovers being  single in a world full of men who were too young, too old, too married, or too good  to be true. For Paris, the list seemed endless...the charming commitment-phobe...the  drunken Neanderthal...the young Frenchman—so adorably sexy she almost forgot about  his age, and did, for a while. With her dating track record veering between disappointing  and disastrous, and her daughter now engaged to a man Paris’s age, Paris finally  comes to the conclusion that romance is not in her future. That’s when her small  circle of offbeat, loving friends becomes more important than ever before. And a  decision Paris makes only for herself changes her life once more.  The secret, she  discovers finally, is in finding the gifts in life’s unexpected twists and turns,  and turning despair into freedom and loss into joy.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e In a poignant, wickedly funny  novel about getting dumped and getting over it, about tackling life with both courage  and laughter, Danielle Steel explores what it means to start over, whether you wanted  to or not, and finding something better than you had before.\u003cb\u003ePraise for Danielle Steel\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Steel is one of the best!”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eLos Angeles Times\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Few modern writers convey the pathos of family and material life with such heartfelt empathy.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eThe Philadelphia Inquirer\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Steel pulls out all the emotional stops. . . . She delivers!”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“What counts for the reader is the ring of authenticity.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eSan Francisco Chronicle\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cb\u003eDanielle Steel\u003c\/b\u003e has been hailed as one of the world’s most popular authors, with over 650 million copies of her novels sold. Her many international bestsellers include \u003ci\u003eCountry, Prodigal Son, Pegasus,\u003c\/i\u003e \u003ci\u003eA Perfect Life, Power Play, Winners, First Sight, Until the End of Time, The Sins of the Mother, \u003c\/i\u003eand other highly acclaimed novels. She is also the author of \u003ci\u003eHis Bright Light,\u003c\/i\u003e the story of her son Nick Traina’s life and death; \u003ci\u003eA Gift of Hope, \u003c\/i\u003ea memoir of her work with the homeless; \u003ci\u003ePure Joy, \u003c\/i\u003eabout the dogs she and her family have loved; and the children’s book \u003ci\u003ePretty Minnie in Paris.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003ci\u003eChapter One\u003cbr\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e \u003c\/b\u003eIt was a perfect balmy May evening, just days after spring had hit  the East Coast with irresistible appeal. The weather was perfect, winter had vanished  literally overnight, birds were singing, the sun was warm, and everything in the  Armstrongs' Connecticut garden was in bloom. The entire week had been blessed with  the kind of weather that made everyone slow down, even in New York. Couples strolled,  lunch hours stretched. People smiled. And in Greenwich that night, Paris Armstrong  decided to serve dinner outside on the flagstone patio they had just redone near  the pool. She and Peter were giving a dinner party on a Friday night, which was rare  for them. They did most of their entertaining on Saturday, so Peter didn't have to  rush home from work in the city on Friday night. But the caterers had only been available  on this particular Friday. They had weddings booked for every Saturday night through  July. It was harder for Peter, but he'd been a good sport when she told him about  the Friday night plan. Peter indulged her most of the time, he always had. He liked  making life easy for her. It was one of the myriad things she loved about him. \u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e They had just celebrated their twenty-fourth anniversary in March. It was hard to  believe sometimes how the years had flown by and how full they had been. Megan, their  eldest, had graduated from Vassar the year before, and at twenty-three, she had recently  taken a job in L.A. She was interested in all aspects of film and had landed a job  as a production assistant with a movie studio in Hollywood. She was barely more than  a gofer, as she admitted openly, but she was thrilled with just being there, and  wanted to be a producer one day. William, their son, had just turned eighteen, and  was graduating in June. He was going to UC Berkeley in the fall. It was hard to believe  that their kids were grown. It seemed only minutes before that she had been changing  diapers and carpooling, taking Meg to ballet, and Wim to hockey games. And in three  months he'd be gone. He was due in Berkeley the week before the Labor Day weekend.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e Paris made sure that the table had been set properly. The caterers were reliable  and had a good eye. They knew her kitchen well. She and Peter liked to entertain,  and Paris used them frequently. They enjoyed their social life and over the years  they had collected an eclectic assortment of interesting friends. She set the flowers  that she had arranged herself on the table. She had cut a profusion of multicolored  peonies, the tablecloth was immaculate, and the crystal and silver gleamed. Peter  probably wouldn't notice, especially if he was tired when he got home, but what he  sensed more than saw was the kind of home she provided him with. Paris was impeccable  about details. She created an atmosphere of warmth and elegance that people flourished  in. She did it not only for him and their friends but for herself as well.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e Peter  provided handsomely for her too. He'd been generous with her and the children. He  had been very successful over the years. He was a partner in a lucrative law firm,  specializing in corporate accounts, and at fifty-one, he was the managing partner.  The house he'd bought for them ten years before was large and beautiful. It was a  handsome stone house, in one of the more luxurious neighborhoods in Greenwich, Connecticut.  They'd talked about hiring a decorator, but in the end she had decided to decorate  it herself, and loved doing it. Peter was thrilled with the results. They also had  one of the prettiest gardens in Greenwich. She'd done such a great job with the house  that he had often teased her and told her she should become a decorator, and most  people who saw the house agreed. But although artistic, her interests had always  been similar to his.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e She had a solid respect and understanding for the business  world. They had married as soon as she graduated from college, and she had gone to  business school and graduated with an MBA. She had wanted to start a small business  of her own, but got pregnant in her second year of business school, and had decided  to stay home with their children instead. And she'd never had any regrets. Peter  supported her in her decision, there was no need for her to work. And for twenty-four  years, she had felt competent and fulfilled, devoting herself full time to Peter  and their children. She baked cookies, organized school fairs, ran the school auction  every year, made costumes by hand at Halloween, spent countless hours at the orthodontist  with them, and generally did what many other wives and mothers did. She didn't need  an MBA for any of it, but her extensive understanding of the corporate world, and  her lively interest in it made it a lot easier when talking to Peter late at night  about the cases he was working on. If anything, it even made them closer. She was,  and had been, the perfect wife for him, and he had profound respect for the way she  had brought up their children. She had turned out to be everything he had expected  her to be--and Paris was equally pleased with him.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e They still shared laughter on  Sunday mornings, as they snuggled beneath the covers for an extra half-hour on cold  wintry days. And she still got up with him at the crack of dawn every weekday, and  drove him to the train, and then came back to take the kids to school, until they  were old enough to drive themselves, which had come far too quickly for her. And  the only dilemma she had now was trying to figure out what she was going to do with  herself when Wim left for Berkeley in August. She could no longer imagine a life  without teenagers splashing in the pool in summer, or turning the house upside down  as they overflowed the downstairs playroom on the weekends. For twenty-three of the  twenty-four years of her marriage, her life had entirely and unreservedly revolved  around them. And it saddened her to know that those days were almost over for good.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e She knew that once Wim left for college, life as she had known it for so long would  be over. He would come home for the occasional weekend, and holidays, as Meg had  while she was at Vassar, only less so because he would be so far away, on the West  Coast. Once Meg had graduated, she had all but disappeared. She had gone to New York  for six months, moved into an apartment with three friends, and then left for California  as soon as she found the job she wanted in L.A. From now on, they would see her on  Thanksgiving and Christmas, if they were lucky, and God only knew what would happen  once she got married, not that she had any plans. Paris knew only too well that in  August, when Wim left, her life would be forever changed.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e After twenty-four years  out of the job market, she couldn't exactly head for New York and go to work. She'd  been baking cookies and driving carpools for too long. The only thing she had thought  of doing so far was volunteer work in Stamford, working with abused kids, or on a  literacy program a friend of hers had started in the public schools for underprivileged  high school students who had managed to get most of the way through high school and  could barely read. Beyond that, she had no idea what she was going to do with herself.  Peter had told her years before that once the kids left, it would be a great opportunity  for them to travel together, and to do things they had never been able to do before.  But his work hours had stretched so noticeably in the last year, she thought it unlikely  he would be able to get away. He rarely even made it home for dinner anymore. From  what Paris could see, for the moment at least, both of her children and her husband  had busy, productive lives, and she didn't. And she knew she had to do something  about it soon. The prospect of the vast amount of free time she was about to have  on her hands was beginning to frighten her. She had talked to Peter about it on several  occasions, and he had no useful suggestions to make. He told her she'd figure it  out sooner or later, and she knew she would. At forty-six, she was young enough to  start a career if she wanted to, the problem was that she didn't know what she wanted  to do. She liked things the way they were, taking care of her children and husband,  and attending to their every need on the weekends--particularly Peter's. Unlike some  of her friends, whose marriages had shown signs of strain over the years, or even  ruptured entirely, Paris was still in love with him. He was kinder, gentler, more  considerate, in fact he was more sophisticated and seasoned, and even better looking  than he had been when they got married. And he always said the same about her.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e Paris  was slim and lithe and athletic. Once the children were older and she had more free  time, she played tennis almost every day, and was in terrific shape. She wore her  straight blond hair long, and most of the time wore it pulled back in a braid. She  had classic Grace Kelly good looks, and green eyes. Her figure was noteworthy, her  laughter easy, and her sense of humor quick to ignite, much to the delight of her  friends. She used to love playing practical jokes, which never failed to amuse her  children. Peter was far quieter by nature, and always had been. By the time he came  home at night after a long day and the commute on the train, more often than not,  he was too tired to do much more than listen to her, and make the occasional comment.  He came to life more on the weekends, but even then he was quiet and somewhat reserved.  And in the last year he had been consumed with work. This was, in fact, the first  dinner party they had given in three months. He had worked late every Friday night,  and gone back into town some Saturdays, to clear things off his desk, or meet with  clients. But Paris was always patient about it. She made few demands on him, and  had a profound respect for his diligence about his work. It was what made him so  good at what he did, and so highly admired in business and legal circles. She couldn't  fault him for being conscientious, although she missed spending more time with him.  Particularly now, with Meg gone for the past six months, and Wim busy with his own  life and friends in the final weeks of his senior year. Peter's heavy workload in  recent months reminded her yet again that she was going to have to find something  to occupy her time in September. She had even thought of starting a catering business,  or investing in a nursery, since she enjoyed her garden so much. But the catering  business, she knew, would interfere with her time with Peter on the weekends, and  she wanted to be available to him whenever he was home, which was seldom enough these  days.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e She took a shower and dressed after checking the table and cruising through  the kitchen to check on the caterers, and everything seemed in good order. They were  having five couples for dinner, all of them good friends. She was looking forward  to it, and hoped Peter would get home in time to unwind before the guests arrived.  She was thinking of him, when Wim stuck his head in her bedroom door while she was  getting dressed. He wanted to tell her his plans, a house rule she rigidly enforced  even at his age. She wanted to know where her children were at all times, and with  whom. Paris was the consummate responsible mother and devoted wife. Everything in  her life was in perfect order, and relatively good control.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e \"I'm going over to the  Johnsons' with Matt,\" Wim said, glancing at her, as she pulled up the side zipper  of a white lace skirt. She was already wearing a strapless tube top to match, and  high-heeled silver sandals.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e \"Are you staying there, or going somewhere else afterward?\"  She smiled at him. He was a handsome boy, and looked like his father. Wim had been  six feet three by the time he reached fifteen, and had grown another inch since.  He had his father's dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes, and he smiled as he looked  at his mother. Wim thought she always looked pretty, when she got dressed up, and  he watched as she wound her long blond hair into a bun as they talked. He always  thought his mother had a simple elegance about her, and he was as proud of her as  she was of him. He was not only a good student, but had been a star athlete all through  high school. \"Are you going to a party tonight?\" Paris asked wisely. For the past  month at least, if not two, the seniors had been kicking up their heels, and Wim  was always in the thick of things. Girls were crazy about him, and drawn to him like  a magnet, although he had been going out with the same girl since Christmas, and  Paris liked her. She was a nice girl from a wholesome family in Greenwich. Her mother  was a teacher, and her father a doctor.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e \"Yeah, we might go to a party later. \"He  looked momentarily sheepish. She knew him too well. He had been thinking of not telling  her about it. She always asked so many questions. He and his sister both complained  about it, but in another sense, they liked it. There was never any question about  how much she loved them.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e \"Whose house?\" she asked, as she finished her hair and  put on just a dash of blush and lipstick.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e \"The Steins',\" Wim said with a grin. She  always asked. Always. And he knew before she said it what the next question would  be.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e \"Will the parents be there?\" Even at eighteen, she didn't want him at unsupervised  parties. It was an invitation to trouble, and when they were younger, she had called  to verify it herself. In the past year, she had finally relented, and was willing  to take Wim's word. But there were still incidents now and then when he tried to  pull the wool over her eyes. As she said, it was his job to try and put one over  on her, and hers to figure it out when he did. She was pretty good about sussing  things out, and most of the time he was honest, and she was comfortable about where  he went.","brand":"Dell","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46300190179557,"sku":"NP9780440240754","price":8.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780440240754.jpg?v=1767724745","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/dating-game-isbn-9780440240754","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}