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Written by Danielle SteelAuthor Alerts:  Random House will alert you to new works by Danielle Steel


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On Sale: February 25, 2009
Pages: 288 | ISBN: 978-0-307-56680-5
Published by : Dell Bantam Dell

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On Sale: June 29, 2004
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Synopsis|Excerpt|Reader Reviews


As editor-in-chief of New York’s leading fashion magazine, Fiona Monaghan was utterly content with her life, jetting back and forth between Manhattan and Europe–until the sweltering day John Anderson strolled into her office. A widower with two daughters, John was as conservative as Fiona was freewheeling, both amused and appalled by her world of high-strung designers, anorexic models, Fendi-stuffed closets, and Sir Winston, her snoring bulldog. But after Fiona impulsively invited John to the Paris couture shows, somewhere between the magic of the runway and the stroll along the Seine, she let him into her heart. And within weeks of their return to New York, John was making friends with Sir Winston–and Fiona was making room in her closets.

It didn’ t take long for the dominoes to start falling. First, John introduced Fiona to his hostile daughters and their bloodthirsty Pekingese and snarling housekeeper. Then, after a disastrous dinner party with John’s biggest client, Fiona and John’s relationship began to unravel with alarming speed. What happens next will set Fiona on a journey filled with pain, revelation, and awakening. When she risks everything and returns to Paris alone, an extraordinary series of events begins to unfold. And as the snow falls on the city of light, the curtain will rise on a second act Fiona never saw coming.

In a dazzling tale of modern misadventures and career-crossed relationships, Danielle Steel captures the heady magic of instant attraction, the challenges of change–and the hope that comes when we dare to do it all over again.


Chapter One

The air-conditioning had just stopped working in the offices of Chic magazine on a blisteringly hot June day in New York. It was their second brownout of the day, and Fiona Monaghan looked as if she were ready to kill someone as she strode into her office after being trapped in the elevator for twenty minutes. The same thing had happened to her the day before. Just getting out of the cab on the way back from lunch at the Four Seasons made her feel as though the air had been sucked out of her lungs. She was leaving for Paris in two weeks-if she lived that long. Days like this were enough to make anyone hate New York, but in spite of the heat and the aggravation, Fiona loved everything about living there. The people, the atmosphere, the restaurants, the theater, the avalanche of culture and excitement everywhere-even the brownstone on East Seventy-fourth Street that she had nearly bankrupted herself to buy ten years ago. She had spent every penny she had on remodeling it. It was stylish and exquisite, a symbol of everything she was and had become.

At forty-two, she had spent a lifetime becoming Fiona Monaghan, a woman men admired and women envied, and came to love when they knew her well and she was their friend. If pressed, she could be a fearsome opponent. But even those who disliked her had to admit they respected her. She was a woman of power, passion, and integrity, and she would fight to the death for a cause she believed in, or a person she had promised to support. She never broke a promise, and when she gave her word, you knew you could count on her. She looked like Katharine Hepburn with a little dash of Rita Hayworth, she was tall and lean with bright red hair and big green eyes that flashed with either delight or rage. Those who met Fiona Monaghan never forgot her, and in her fiefdom she was all knowing, all seeing, all powerful, and all caring. She loved her job above all else, and had fought hard to get it. She had never married, never wanted to, and although she loved children, she never wanted any of her own. She had enough on her plate as it was. She had been the editor-in-chief of Chic magazine for six years, and as such she was an icon in the fashion world.

She had a full personal life as well. She had had an affair with a married man, and a relationship with a man she had lived with for eight years. Before that, she had dated randomly, usually artists or writers, but she had been alone now for a year and a half. The married lover was a British architect who commuted between London, Hong Kong, and New York. And the man she had lived with was a conductor, and had left her to marry and have children, and was living in Chicago now, which Fiona considered a fate worse than death. Fiona thought New York was the hub of the civilized world. She would have lived in London or Paris, but nowhere else. She and the conductor had remained good friends. He had come before the architect, whom she had left when the affair got too complicated and he threatened to leave his wife for her. She didn't want to marry him, or anyone. She hadn't wanted to marry the conductor either, although he had asked her repeatedly. Marriage always seemed too high risk to her, she would have preferred to do a high-wire act in the circus than risk marriage, and she warned men of that. Marriage was never an option for her.

Her own childhood had been hard enough to convince her that she didn't want to risk that kind of pain for anyone. Her father had abandoned her mother when her mother was twenty-five and she was three. Her mother had attempted two more marriages to men Fiona hated, both were drunks, as her father had been. She never saw her father again after he left, nor his family, and knew only that he had died when she was fourteen. And her mother had died when she was in college. Fiona had no siblings, no known relatives. She was alone in the world by the time she was twenty, graduated from Wellesley, and made it on her own after that. She crawled her way up the ladder in minor fashion magazines and landed at Chic by the time she was twenty-nine. Seven years later, she became editor-in-chief, and the rest was history. Fiona was a legend by the time she was thirty-five, and the most powerful female magazine editor in the country at forty.

Fiona had nearly infallible judgment, an unfailing sense for fashion and what would work, and a head for business that everyone she worked with admired. And more than that, she had courage. She wasn't afraid to take risks, except in her love life. In that arena she took none at all, and had no need to. She wasn't afraid to be alone, and in the past year and a half she had come to prefer it. She was never really alone anyway, she was constantly surrounded by photographers, assistants, designers, models, artists, and a flock of hangers-on. She had a full calendar and an active social life and a host of interesting friends. She always said that it wouldn't bother her if she never lived with anyone again. She didn't have room in her closets anyway, and had no desire to make room for anyone. She had enough responsibilities at the magazine, without wanting to be responsible to or for a man as well. Fiona Monaghan had a breathtakingly full life, and she loved all of it. She had a high tolerance for, and a slight addiction to, confusion, excitement, and chaos.

She was wearing a long narrow black silk skirt that fell in tiny pleats from her waist, as she walked off the elevator she'd been trapped in for twenty minutes, on her way back from lunch. She wore a white peasant blouse with it, off her shoulders, with her long red hair swept up in a loose knot. Her only piece of jewelry was a huge turquoise bracelet that nearly devoured her wrist and was the envy of all who saw it. It had been made for her by David Webb. She was wearing high-heeled black Manolo Blahnik sandals, an oversize red alligator Fendi bag, and the entire combination of accessories and long, clean lines gave an impression of inimitable elegance and style. Fiona was as dazzling as any of the models they photographed, she was older but just as beautiful, although her looks meant nothing to her. She never traded on sex appeal or artifice, she was far more interested in the soul and the mind, both of which shone through her deep green eyes. She was thinking about the cover for the September issue, as she sat down at her desk, kicked off her sandals, and picked up the phone. There was a new young designer in Paris she wanted one of her young assistant editors to research and pursue. Fiona was always on a mission of some kind, it took a flock of underlings and minions to keep up with her, and she was feared as much as she was admired. You had to move fast to match her pace, and she had no patience for slackers, shirkers, or fools. Everyone at Chic knew that when Fiona shined the spotlight on you, you'd better be able to come up with the goods, or else.

Her secretary buzzed her ten minutes later to remind her that John Anderson was coming in to see her in half an hour, and she groaned. She had forgotten the appointment, and between the heat, the lack of air-conditioning, and the interlude in the elevator, she wasn't in the mood. He was the head of the new ad agency they'd hired, it was a solid old firm that, thanks to him, had come up with some exciting new ideas. It had been her decision to make the switch, and she had met nearly everyone in the agency but him. Their work and their track record spoke for itself. The meeting was merely a matter of form to meet each other. He had been reorganizing the London office when she decided to hire the firm, and now that he was back in town, they had agreed to meet. He had suggested lunch, but she didn't have time, so she'd suggested he come to her office, intending to keep it brief.

She returned half a dozen calls before the meeting, and Adrian Wicks, her most important editor, dropped in for five minutes to discuss the couture shows in Paris with her. Adrian was a tall, thin, stylish somewhat effeminate black man who had been a designer himself for a few years before he came to Chic. He was as smart as she was, which she loved. Adrian was a graduate of Yale, had a master's in journalism from Columbia, worked as a designer, and had finally landed at Chic, and together they were an impressive team. He was her right arm for the last five years. He was as dark as she was pale, as addicted to fashion as she was, and as passionate about his ideas and the magazine as Fiona. In addition, he was her best friend. She invited him to join the meeting with John Anderson, but he was meeting with a designer at three, and just as Adrian left her office, her secretary told her that Mr. Anderson had arrived, and Fiona asked her to show him in.

As Fiona looked across her desk to the doorway, she watched John Anderson walk in, and came around her desk to greet him. She smiled as their eyes met, and each took the other's measure. He was a tall, powerfully built man with impeccably groomed white hair, bright blue eyes, and a youthful face and demeanor. He was as conservative as she was flamboyant. She knew from his biographical material, and mutual friends, that he was a widower, he had just turned fifty, and he had an M.B.A. from Harvard. She also knew he had two daughters in college, one at Brown and the other at Princeton. Fiona always remembered personal details, she found them interesting, and sometimes useful to help her know who she was dealing with.

"Thank you for coming over," she said pleasantly as they stood eyeing each other. She was nearly as tall as he was in the towering Blahnik heels she had slipped back on before she came to greet him. The rest of the time, she loved walking around her office barefoot. She said it helped her think. "I'm sorry about the air-conditioning. We've had brownouts all week." She smiled agreeably.

"So have we. At least you can open your windows. My office has been like an oven. It's a good thing we decided to meet here," he said with a smile, glancing around her office, which was an eclectic hodgepodge of paintings by up-and-coming young artists, two important photographs by Avedon that had been a gift to her from the magazine, and layouts from future issues leaning against the walls. There was a mountain of jewelry, accessories, clothes, and fabric samples almost entirely covering the couch, which she unceremoniously dumped on the floor, as her assistant brought in a tray with a pitcher of lemonade and a plate of cookies. Fiona waved John Anderson toward the couch, and handed him a glass of the ice-cold lemonade a moment later, and sat down across from him. "Thank you. It's nice to finally meet you," he said politely. She nodded, and looked serious for a moment as she watched him. She hadn't expected him to look quite that uptight, or be that good looking. He seemed calm and conservative, but at the same time there was something undeniably electric about him, as though there were an invisible current that moved through him. It was so tangible she could feel it. Despite his serious looks, there was something very exciting about him.

She didn't look as he had expected her to either. She was sexier, younger, more striking, and more informal. He had expected her to be older and more of a dragon. She had a fearsome reputation, not for being disagreeable but for being tough, though fair, in her dealings, a force to be reckoned with. And much to his surprise, as she smiled at him over the lemonade, she seemed almost girlish. But despite her seemingly friendly air, within minutes she got to the point of their meeting, and was clear and concise in outlining Chic's expectations. They wanted good solid advertising campaigns, nothing too trendy or exotic. The magazine was the most established in the business, and she expected their advertising to reflect that. She didn't want anything wild or crazy. John was relieved to hear it. Chic was a great account for them, and he was beginning to look forward to his dealings with her. More so than before the meeting. In fact, as he drank a second glass of lemonade, and the air-conditioning finally came back on, he had actually decided that he liked her. He liked her style, and the straightforward way she outlined their needs and issues. She had clear, sound ideas about advertising, just as she did about her own business. By the time he stood up to leave, he was almost sorry the meeting was over. He liked talking to her. She was tough and fair. She was totally feminine, and strong at the same time. She was a woman to be feared and admired.

Fiona walked him to the elevator, something she did rarely. She was usually in a hurry to get back to work, but she lingered for a few minutes, talking to him, and she was pleased when she went back to her office. He was a good man, smart, quick, funny, and not as stuffy as he looked in his gray suit, white shirt, and sober navy tie. He looked more like a banker than the head of an ad agency, but she liked the fact that he wore elegant expensive shoes that she correctly suspected he'd bought in London, and his suit was impeccably tailored. He had a definite look about him, in sharp contrast to her own style. In all things, and certainly her taste and style, Fiona was far more daring. She could wear almost anything, and make it look terrific.

She left the office late that afternoon and as always was in a hurry. She hailed a cab outside their offices on Park Avenue, and sped uptown to her brownstone. It was after six when she got home, already wilted from the heat in the cab. And the moment she walked in she could hear chaos in her kitchen. She was expecting guests at seven-thirty. She kept her house ice cold, as much for her own comfort as for that of her ancient English bulldog. He was fourteen years old, a miraculous age for the breed, and beloved by all who knew him. His name was Sir Winston, after Churchill. He greeted her enthusiastically when she got home, as she hurried into the kitchen to check on progress there, and was pleased to find her caterers working at a frenzied pace, preparing the Indian dinner she had ordered.

From the Hardcover edition.

Table of Contents

“This is the first book by Danielle Steel that I have read and I'm hooked!” –Denise H., Greenfield, IN

“A wonderful, romantic novel that captures the fantasy of the couture fashion world while exploring the reality of making a relationship work. Thoughtful details bring the Paris and Manhattan fashion settings to life, and the lively world of Fiona Monaghan adds comedy and a light touch to the story. The characters are realistic, fun and engaging, and utterly sympathetic as they progress through their personal journeys. A quick and easy read, Second Chance is highly recommended for everyone who believes in true love, personal growth and happy endings.” –Jennifer O., Pittsboro, NC

Second Chance is a novel not only about the first love that sweeps you off your feet, but also about compromise, overcoming difficulties in a relationship, and a second chance at a love that lasts a lifetime. Danielle Steel's vivid descriptions of the glamorous world of high fashion make even a T-shirt-and-jeans woman like me want to keep reading!” –Sharon M., Towson, MD

“The story line was very good, and given that I am a New York fashion designer, I could more than relate to the hectic pace of Chic magazine and Fiona Monaghan!” –Nancy S., Southampton, NY

“Danielle Steel has crafted an uplifting story of second chances in life, love and happiness. She has once again created a strong female character for women to believe in and aspire to emulate. Fiona had a rough childhood, causing her to fear relationships and marriage. Second Chance encourages us to overcome our fears and approach life with determination and style.” –Karrie A., Germantown, MD

“I enjoyed this book–especially with the absence of Sex and the City! It was enjoyable to visit the world of high fashion. The characters were well-developed and the book flowed well.” –Cindy M., Katy, TX

“I am an avid Danielle Steel fan and have read fifty or more of her books. This will be remembered as a favorite among them. Second Chance is a bittersweet tale of being afraid to let someone in and getting a second chance to undo the mistakes made by pushing away those who love us the most. A tale to be savored and remembered!” –Johnna F., Ennis, TX 

“A compelling story about today’s career women and the choices they must make. A must-read for the summer of 2004.” –Rosie O., Cleveland, MN

“A great summer read. Steel never disappoints. The characters are funny and totally believable. It takes a fun look at the fashion and publishing worlds and proves you can never have too much closet space–and that joy, sadness and learning to live again transcend all ages.” –Cecilia D., Pontiac, MI

“Ms. Steel is at her best when she’s creating dazzling pictures of Fiona Monaghan’s exploits as she traverses the love game.  In the process of recovery, Fiona sees the empty areas of her life she has so conveniently filled with clothes and friends. Second Chance is a light, fun-filled book to entertain her faithful followers and new acquaintances.” –Elizabeth O., McKinleyville, CA

“Danielle Steel has done it again. She has captured my heart and wrote another wonderful, exciting story. It kept my attention from the start and I didn't want to put the book down. I loved Fiona from the moment I met her. I highly recommend this book!” –Margie L., Warminster, PA          

“What can I say–it's great! I can't wait for the next one; I not only own all her books, I have read many twice. This book is as good as all of hers. I hope she writes like this forever.” –Lisa C., Rollinsford, NH

Second Chance is in the Top 10 of my favorite Danielle Steel books. I loved everything about it. I enjoyed the characters and the story line. I highly recommend it for any fan. Thanks for letting me read it! It was a highly pleasurable book.” –Susan M., Santa Barbara, CA

“A quick, breezy, and perfect summertime read.” –Raquel C., San Francisco, CA

“Danielle Steel writes yet another remarkable story. Second Chance gives a sense of hope that second chances are possible.” –Kathleen E., Maryland Hts., MO
Danielle Steel

About Danielle Steel

Danielle Steel - Second Chance

Photo © Brigitte Lacome

DANIELLE STEEL is one of the world's most popular authors, with over 650 million copies of her novels in print. She is published in 69 countries and 43 languages. Her many international bestsellers include PegasusA Perfect LifePower PlayWinners, First Sight, and Pure Joy, about the dogs she and her family have loved. In 2002 Steel was decorated by the French government as an "Officier" of the distinguished Order of Arts and Letters and in 2014 was named "Chevalier" of the Légion d'Honneur, its highest honor. She is the mother of nine children and lives in Paris and San Francisco with her two Chihuahuas, Minnie and Blue.
Danielle Steel es sin duda una de las novelistas más populares en todo el mundo. Sus libros se han publicado en cuarenta y siete países, con ventas que superan los quinientos ochenta millones de ejemplares. Cada uno de sus lanzamientos ha encabezado las listas de bestsellers de The New York Times, y muchos de ellos se han mantenido en esta posición durante meses.

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