When I was a teenager, stealing my mum's Shirley Conrans and Harrold Robbins was a guilty pleasure. Sex and money, success and tragedy, across continents and over the generations - they just don't make them like that any more. Or they didn't. Jessica Ruston's new book is a wonderful blockbuster in the old style - unashamedly glamourous, tightly plotted with a story that keeps you wanting more. The big hair and shoulder pads may be gone, but the 'greed is good', glitzy 80s mentality lives on in Logan, Maryanne, Johnny and Nicolo. I just loved how Ruston incorporates up to the minute fashion details and gadgets into the plot (a musician checks his Twitter feeds; the iPhone plays an integral role) - but it's never clunky. The writing is understated. Cleverly constructed (but never gratuitous) plot devices move the story on to its marvellously gripping finale.

This is a hugely exciting and enjoyable novel which will keep you up until the wee hours until you hit that last page. Such decadent escapism doesn't come along often enough. More please!