This one was cute, and again, not quite as much chick lit fluff while still being decidedly chick lit.
Here's the description:
Jennifer Bell used to travel the planet with her boyfriend, fighting the good fight for mother Earth. But after the breakup (not a good fight), Jen moved back to London to work for another mother: her own. Harriet Bell founded Green Futures, a consulting firm, after splitting up with Jen's big-shot father, who runs a rival (and Harriet thinks corrupt) company. But Harriet can't expose his crimes without proof. And she wants Jen to find some.Since Jen hasn't seen her dad in more than fifteen years, it's a snap to infiltrate his company . . . under an assumed name, of course. Soon she's worming her way into the good graces of the company's managers to find evidence of wrongdoing. What she discovers is that her father's world is a whole lot different from her own-filled with Palm Pilots, MBAs, martini lunches, designer suits, and Daniel Peterson, a guy who puts the gorge in gorgeous. Suddenly Jen is torn between Birkenstocks and Jimmy Choos, tree-hugging and air-kissing. Could it be that her Big Bad Dad isn't the monster her mom made him out to be? Or is Jen simply being seduced by the power of hard deals, hot nights, and wads of cash? Only time will tell-preferably from a Cartier watch on the wrist of Daniel Peterson. . . .
Jennifer Bell used to travel the planet with her boyfriend, fighting the good fight for mother Earth. But after the breakup (not a good fight), Jen moved back to London to work for another mother: her own. Harriet Bell founded Green Futures, a consulting firm, after splitting up with Jen's big-shot father, who runs a rival (and Harriet thinks corrupt) company. But Harriet can't expose his crimes without proof. And she wants Jen to find some.Since Jen hasn't seen her dad in more than fifteen years, it's a snap to infiltrate his company . . . under an assumed name, of course. Soon she's worming her way into the good graces of the company's managers to find evidence of wrongdoing. What she discovers is that her father's world is a whole lot different from her own-filled with Palm Pilots, MBAs, martini lunches, designer suits, and Daniel Peterson, a guy who puts the gorge in gorgeous. Suddenly Jen is torn between Birkenstocks and Jimmy Choos, tree-hugging and air-kissing. Could it be that her Big Bad Dad isn't the monster her mom made him out to be? Or is Jen simply being seduced by the power of hard deals, hot nights, and wads of cash? Only time will tell-preferably from a Cartier watch on the wrist of Daniel Peterson. . . .
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