Genre Fiction
![Sophie Kinsella - [object Object] author](https://res.cloudinary.com/readsomnia/image/upload/authors/a_a_sophie_kinsella.jpg)
The Party Crasher: A Novel
NATIONAL BESTSELLER • From the #1 New York Times bestselling author of Love Your Life comes a humorous and heartwarming novel about family, set against the backdrop of the most fabulous party you've ever snuck into.
"Sophie Kinsella keeps her finger on the cultural pulse, while leaving me giddy with laughter."-Jojo Moyes, author of The Giver of Stars and The Last Letter from Your Lover
It's been almost two years since Effie's beloved parents got divorced, destroying the image of the happy, loving childhood she thought she had. Since then, she's become estranged from her father and embarked on a feud with his hot (and much younger) girlfriend, Krista. And now, more earth-shattering news: They've sold Greenoaks, the rambling Victorian country house Effie has always called home.
When Krista decides to throw a grand "house-cooling" party, Effie is originally left off the guest list-and then receives a last-minute "anti-invitation" (maybe it's because she called Krista a gold-digger, but Krista totally deserved it, and it was mostly a joke anyway). Effie declines, but then remembers a beloved childhood treasure is still hidden in the house. Her only chance to retrieve it is to break into Greenoaks while everyone is busy celebrating. As Effie sneaks around the house, hiding under tables and peeping through trapdoors, she realizes the secrets Greenoaks holds aren't just in the dusty passageways and hidden attics she grew up exploring. Watching how her sister, brother, and dad behave when they think no one is looking, Effie overhears conversations, makes discoveries, and begins to see her family in a new light. Then she runs into Joe-the love of her life, who long ago broke her heart, and who's still as handsome and funny as ever-and even more truths emerge.
But will Effie act on these revelations? Will she stay hidden or step out into the party and take her place with her family? And truthfully, what did she really come back to Greenoaks for? Over the course of one blowout party, Effie realizes that she must be honest with herself and confront her past before she'll ever be able to face her future.
"Sophie Kinsella keeps her finger on the cultural pulse, while leaving me giddy with laughter."-Jojo Moyes, author of The Giver of Stars and The Last Letter from Your Lover
It's been almost two years since Effie's beloved parents got divorced, destroying the image of the happy, loving childhood she thought she had. Since then, she's become estranged from her father and embarked on a feud with his hot (and much younger) girlfriend, Krista. And now, more earth-shattering news: They've sold Greenoaks, the rambling Victorian country house Effie has always called home.
When Krista decides to throw a grand "house-cooling" party, Effie is originally left off the guest list-and then receives a last-minute "anti-invitation" (maybe it's because she called Krista a gold-digger, but Krista totally deserved it, and it was mostly a joke anyway). Effie declines, but then remembers a beloved childhood treasure is still hidden in the house. Her only chance to retrieve it is to break into Greenoaks while everyone is busy celebrating. As Effie sneaks around the house, hiding under tables and peeping through trapdoors, she realizes the secrets Greenoaks holds aren't just in the dusty passageways and hidden attics she grew up exploring. Watching how her sister, brother, and dad behave when they think no one is looking, Effie overhears conversations, makes discoveries, and begins to see her family in a new light. Then she runs into Joe-the love of her life, who long ago broke her heart, and who's still as handsome and funny as ever-and even more truths emerge.
But will Effie act on these revelations? Will she stay hidden or step out into the party and take her place with her family? And truthfully, what did she really come back to Greenoaks for? Over the course of one blowout party, Effie realizes that she must be honest with herself and confront her past before she'll ever be able to face her future.
Editorial Reviews
Praise for The Party Crasher
"There really is no one who can write like Sophie Kinsella, and this book is yet another triumph, packed with brilliant characters and madcap situations. It's joyous and funny but also contains emotional hidden depths. I absolutely loved it!"-Jill Mansell
"Funny, smart, and supremely entertaining, The Party Crasher features a marriage breakdown, adult siblings in turmoil, and some very uncomfortable truths, raising the question: Can a family this broken ever be fixed?"―Lucy Diamond
"The Party Crasher has all the wit, humor, warmth, and wonderful characters that I love about Kinsella's books, from the toe-curling embarrassments, where I can feel my cheeks burn for the character, to the deeply touching and ultimately joyous journey she takes us on. I couldn't put it down. It was a party I definitely wanted to be at and wasn't going to leave until the very end."―Jo Thomas
"Humorous and light-hearted, this successfully commits to the notion that, given time, love will prevail."-Publishers Weekly
Praise for Love Your Life
"As close to perfect as romantic comedies get."-Jenny Colgan, New York Times bestselling author of The Bookshop on the Corner
"A joyful, hilarious, and heartwarming tale of the challenges we face when we sign up to be part of someone else's life. It made me laugh out loud and cry happy tears. I adored it."-Beth O'Leary, author of The Flatshare and The Switch
"Love Your Life is as warm as the Italian sunshine and full of fun: a fabulous Italian appetizer, like a platter of antipasti; a stunning, satisfying mix of romance and real life, with characters whom you will fall in love with and who will leave you smiling with joy. Like a glorious dinner party with friends, it kept me happy, warm, and staying up far later than I should so as not to miss a thing. I loved it! It left me wanting more."
"There really is no one who can write like Sophie Kinsella, and this book is yet another triumph, packed with brilliant characters and madcap situations. It's joyous and funny but also contains emotional hidden depths. I absolutely loved it!"-Jill Mansell
"Funny, smart, and supremely entertaining, The Party Crasher features a marriage breakdown, adult siblings in turmoil, and some very uncomfortable truths, raising the question: Can a family this broken ever be fixed?"―Lucy Diamond
"The Party Crasher has all the wit, humor, warmth, and wonderful characters that I love about Kinsella's books, from the toe-curling embarrassments, where I can feel my cheeks burn for the character, to the deeply touching and ultimately joyous journey she takes us on. I couldn't put it down. It was a party I definitely wanted to be at and wasn't going to leave until the very end."―Jo Thomas
"Humorous and light-hearted, this successfully commits to the notion that, given time, love will prevail."-Publishers Weekly
Praise for Love Your Life
"As close to perfect as romantic comedies get."-Jenny Colgan, New York Times bestselling author of The Bookshop on the Corner
"A joyful, hilarious, and heartwarming tale of the challenges we face when we sign up to be part of someone else's life. It made me laugh out loud and cry happy tears. I adored it."-Beth O'Leary, author of The Flatshare and The Switch
"Love Your Life is as warm as the Italian sunshine and full of fun: a fabulous Italian appetizer, like a platter of antipasti; a stunning, satisfying mix of romance and real life, with characters whom you will fall in love with and who will leave you smiling with joy. Like a glorious dinner party with friends, it kept me happy, warm, and staying up far later than I should so as not to miss a thing. I loved it! It left me wanting more."
Readers Top Reviews
kakiHeadintheclou
Another great read. A book filled with misunderstandings, love and redemption. Keep cranking them out please! Wish you published more than you do! And sooner! Thank you
LMcDkakiHeadinthe
At first I worried this was a klunker. Yes, even great Authors occasionally produce one. I stuck with it thru the early schmarm and shtick and was rewarded. Fun, LOL, silly, and GOOD!
Cristin SaintLMcD
If you are a Sophie Kinsella fan, this won't disappoint. I had bouts of laughing out loud in an empty room as I was unable to contain myself. It might not change the trajectory of the world or cure cancer, but its a delightful moment to remember what's really important and have a laugh. Loved it!
Kelly SchuknechtC
If you’ve been following me for any length of time, you know I’m a huge Sophie Kinsella fan. While I haven’t read her Shopaholic series yet, I’ve read every one of her standalone novels. The Party Crasher is her latest, published in October 2021. This book is super cute. It’s everything I love about Sophie Kinsella—light-hearted, humorous, girly, a little bit of drama, and a little bit of romance. I loved it! The main character, Effie, is having a hard time dealing with her parents divorce. To make matters worse, her dad has found a new (younger) girlfriend and the two are now selling her childhood home. The family is throwing a “house cooling” party—the opposite of a house warming party, to say good-bye to the house. Effie is determined not to go, but she has to get into the house to get something she left behind. It’s amazing how much of a story can be told while the main character is hiding behind a rosebush or in a closet! I didn’t know how that was going to go at first, but it went along just fine. The story is very enjoyable.
Nicole TuckerJHKe
She is one of my fave authors. I couldn’t wait to read this-but I thought it was boring, hard to get through, didn’t have that laugh out loud factor, very predictable. I struggled with reading this to end Bc I found it so boring. Very disappointed. The shopaholic series and twenties girl were my favorites-I hope there are more books with that kind of humor, relatability and Witt in the future
Short Excerpt Teaser
One
I know I can do this, I know I can. Whatever anyone else says. It's just a matter of perseverance.
"Effie, I already told you, that angel won't stay," says my big sister, Bean, coming up to watch me with a glass of mulled wine in her hand. "Not in a million years."
"It will." Firmly, I continue wrapping twine round our beloved silver angel ornament, ignoring the pine needles pricking my hand.
"It won't. Just give up! It's too heavy!"
"I'm not giving up!" I retort. "We always have the silver angel on the top of the Christmas tree."
"But this tree is about half the size of the ones we normally have," points out Bean. "Haven't you noticed? It's really spindly."
I briefly survey the tree, standing in its usual alcove in the hall. Of course I've noticed it's small. We usually have a huge, impressive, bushy tree, whereas this one is pretty puny. But that's not my concern right now.
"This will work." I tie my final knot with a flourish, then let go-whereupon the whole branch collapses, the angel swings upside down, and her skirt falls over her head, exposing her knickers. Drat.
"Well, that looks super-festive," says Bean, snorting with laughter. "Shall we write Happy Christmas on her underpants?"
"Fine." I untie the angel and step back. "I'll brace the branch with a stick or something."
"Just put something else on top of the tree!" Bean sounds half amused, half exasperated. "Effie, why are you always so stubborn?"
"I'm not stubborn, I'm persistent."
"You tell 'em, Effie!" chimes in Dad, passing by with a bundle of fairy lights in his arms. "Fight the good fight! Never say die!"
His eyes are twinkling and his cheeks are rosy, and I smile back fondly. Dad gets it. He's one of the most tenacious people I know. He was brought up in a tiny flat in Layton-on-Sea by a single mother, and he went to a really rough school. But he persevered, got to college, and then joined an investment firm. Now he is where he is: retired, comfortable, happy, all good. You don't achieve that by giving up at the first hurdle.
OK, so his tenacity can sometimes segue into irrational obstinacy. Like that time he wouldn't give up on a charity 10K run, even though he was limping, and it turned out he'd torn a calf muscle. But as he said afterward, he'd raised the money, he'd got the job done, and he'd survive. Dad was always exclaiming, "You'll survive!" during our childhoods, which was sometimes cheering and sometimes bracing and sometimes totally unwelcome. (Sometimes you don't want to hear that you'll survive. You want to peer at your bleeding knee and wail and have someone say kindly, There, there, aren't you brave?)
Dad had obviously been at the mulled wine before I even arrived today-but, then, why not? It's Christmastime and it's his birthday and it's decorating day. It's always been our tradition to decorate the tree on Dad's birthday. Even now we're all grown up, we come back to Greenoaks, our family home in Sussex, every year.
As Dad disappears into the kitchen, I edge closer to Bean and lower my voice. "Why did Mimi get such a small tree this year?"
"Don't know," says Bean after a pause. "Just being practical, maybe? I mean, we're all adults now."
"Maybe," I say, dissatisfied by this answer. Our stepmother, Mimi, is artistic and creative and full of quirky whims. She's always loved Christmas decorating, the bigger the better. Why would she suddenly decide to be practical? Next year I'll go tree shopping with her, I decide. I'll remind her subtly that we always have a massive tree at Greenoaks, and there's no reason to stop that tradition, even if Bean is thirty-three and Gus is thirty-one and I'm twenty-six.
"At last!" Bean interrupts my thoughts, peering at her phone.
"What?"
"Gus. He's just sent over the video. Talk about cutting it fine."
About a month ago, Dad said he "didn't want presents this year." As if we were going to take any notice of that. But to be fair, he does have a lot of sweaters and cuff-links and things, so we decided to be creative. Bean and Gus have put together a video montage, which Gus has been finalizing, and I've done my own surprise project, which I can't wait to show Dad.
"I expect Gus has been pretty busy with Romilly," I say, winking at Bean, who grins back.
Our brother, Gus, has recently landed this amazing girlfriend called Romilly. And we're not surprised, we're definitely not surprised, but . . . well. The thing is, he's Gus. Absentminded. Vague. He's handsome in his own way, very endearing, and very good at his job in software. But he's not exactly what you'd call "alpha." Whereas she's some kind of amazing powerhouse with perfect ...
I know I can do this, I know I can. Whatever anyone else says. It's just a matter of perseverance.
"Effie, I already told you, that angel won't stay," says my big sister, Bean, coming up to watch me with a glass of mulled wine in her hand. "Not in a million years."
"It will." Firmly, I continue wrapping twine round our beloved silver angel ornament, ignoring the pine needles pricking my hand.
"It won't. Just give up! It's too heavy!"
"I'm not giving up!" I retort. "We always have the silver angel on the top of the Christmas tree."
"But this tree is about half the size of the ones we normally have," points out Bean. "Haven't you noticed? It's really spindly."
I briefly survey the tree, standing in its usual alcove in the hall. Of course I've noticed it's small. We usually have a huge, impressive, bushy tree, whereas this one is pretty puny. But that's not my concern right now.
"This will work." I tie my final knot with a flourish, then let go-whereupon the whole branch collapses, the angel swings upside down, and her skirt falls over her head, exposing her knickers. Drat.
"Well, that looks super-festive," says Bean, snorting with laughter. "Shall we write Happy Christmas on her underpants?"
"Fine." I untie the angel and step back. "I'll brace the branch with a stick or something."
"Just put something else on top of the tree!" Bean sounds half amused, half exasperated. "Effie, why are you always so stubborn?"
"I'm not stubborn, I'm persistent."
"You tell 'em, Effie!" chimes in Dad, passing by with a bundle of fairy lights in his arms. "Fight the good fight! Never say die!"
His eyes are twinkling and his cheeks are rosy, and I smile back fondly. Dad gets it. He's one of the most tenacious people I know. He was brought up in a tiny flat in Layton-on-Sea by a single mother, and he went to a really rough school. But he persevered, got to college, and then joined an investment firm. Now he is where he is: retired, comfortable, happy, all good. You don't achieve that by giving up at the first hurdle.
OK, so his tenacity can sometimes segue into irrational obstinacy. Like that time he wouldn't give up on a charity 10K run, even though he was limping, and it turned out he'd torn a calf muscle. But as he said afterward, he'd raised the money, he'd got the job done, and he'd survive. Dad was always exclaiming, "You'll survive!" during our childhoods, which was sometimes cheering and sometimes bracing and sometimes totally unwelcome. (Sometimes you don't want to hear that you'll survive. You want to peer at your bleeding knee and wail and have someone say kindly, There, there, aren't you brave?)
Dad had obviously been at the mulled wine before I even arrived today-but, then, why not? It's Christmastime and it's his birthday and it's decorating day. It's always been our tradition to decorate the tree on Dad's birthday. Even now we're all grown up, we come back to Greenoaks, our family home in Sussex, every year.
As Dad disappears into the kitchen, I edge closer to Bean and lower my voice. "Why did Mimi get such a small tree this year?"
"Don't know," says Bean after a pause. "Just being practical, maybe? I mean, we're all adults now."
"Maybe," I say, dissatisfied by this answer. Our stepmother, Mimi, is artistic and creative and full of quirky whims. She's always loved Christmas decorating, the bigger the better. Why would she suddenly decide to be practical? Next year I'll go tree shopping with her, I decide. I'll remind her subtly that we always have a massive tree at Greenoaks, and there's no reason to stop that tradition, even if Bean is thirty-three and Gus is thirty-one and I'm twenty-six.
"At last!" Bean interrupts my thoughts, peering at her phone.
"What?"
"Gus. He's just sent over the video. Talk about cutting it fine."
About a month ago, Dad said he "didn't want presents this year." As if we were going to take any notice of that. But to be fair, he does have a lot of sweaters and cuff-links and things, so we decided to be creative. Bean and Gus have put together a video montage, which Gus has been finalizing, and I've done my own surprise project, which I can't wait to show Dad.
"I expect Gus has been pretty busy with Romilly," I say, winking at Bean, who grins back.
Our brother, Gus, has recently landed this amazing girlfriend called Romilly. And we're not surprised, we're definitely not surprised, but . . . well. The thing is, he's Gus. Absentminded. Vague. He's handsome in his own way, very endearing, and very good at his job in software. But he's not exactly what you'd call "alpha." Whereas she's some kind of amazing powerhouse with perfect ...
