"Priceless," Nicole Richie's second novel, is a heart-warming story of a girl who loses everything then learns about what really matters in life.
In addition to being an author, Richie -- the socialite, former reality TV star and daughter of singer Lionel Richie -- is now a mother and entrepreneur.
"Priceless" is the follow-up to Richie's debut novel, "The Truth About Diamonds."
Read an excerpt from the book below and head to the "GMA" Library to find more good reads.
As the beautiful young woman strode through the international arrivals terminal at JFK, several people turned to look. A flight attendant noticed the way she carried herself, the clothes she wore, her shoes, and guessed she'd just walked out of first class. She was right. A young man pulling espresso paused, distracted by the girl's obvious sexuality and lovely figure. She felt his gaze and turned slightly, favoring him with a brief smile that made his hand jump, causing him to scald himself. A man in a Savile Row suit lowered his Wall Street Journal and raised his eyebrows. Hmm. Charlotte Williams was back. Her father would be happy. The market would go up. He folded his paper and called his broker.
Charlotte descended the escalator, scanning the crowd waiting for arrivals. She smiled; there was Davis. He caught her eye and smiled back. He already had her bags.
"Hello, Davis, how nice to see a familiar face so soon." She shook his hand.
"Miss Charlotte, it's a pleasure to have you back in New York. The city has been very quiet without you."
She laughed. "I doubt that, Davis, but thanks. Is the car very far? My shoes are killing me." She'd worn sweats for the flight, but just before they began their descent, she'd changed into her city clothes. Louboutins, which were pinching her feet after only a hundred yards, a Marc Jacobs dress from spring '09, with a wide wrapped belt, a cashmere sweater coat. Still comfortable and easy to wear but appropriate for public viewing.
He shook his head. "Just outside, Miss."
Indeed, the long, low Mercedes was parked right in front, in a red zone, a cop very slowly writing a ticket for it. He saw them coming and looked around, making sure no one saw Davis slipping him a folded bill. Charlotte kicked off her shoes and relaxed as Davis expertly navigated the traffic back into town.
It was very good to be home.
However , no one except the staff was home to welcome her. The housekeeper was the same, but a young man she hadn't seen before was working on the plants. She looked him over and decided to save him for later. Sitting on her bed, she surveyed her room.
"Your father had it repainted for you." The housekeeper was unpacking her things, silently evaluating and appreciating the silken underwear, the fine labels: La Perla, Aubade, Eres.
"How did he manage to do that and yet have it look exactly the same?" Every doll, every picture, every photo was precisely where she had left it the year before.
Greta shrugged. "He spent a lot of time in here while you were away." She looked around. "And he paid a designer to draw a map of where everything was." She smiled at the memory. "It was quite a task."
Charlotte frowned, tucking her long blond hair behind her ears. "Why was he in here so much?" She pulled her feet up onto her bed, pausing at a glance from Greta, removing her shoes.