THE LIPSTICK BUREAU by Michelle Gable

Michelle Gable's new novel, THE LIPSTICK BUREAU (GraydonHouse) is inspired by a real-life female spy, a WWII-set novel about a woman challenging convention and boundaries to help win a war, no matter the cost.

1944, Rome. Newlywed Niki Novotná is recruited by a new American spy agency to establish a secret branch in Italy's capital. One of the OSS's few female operatives abroad and multilingual, she's tasked with crafting fake stories and distributing propaganda to lower the morale of enemy soldiers.

Despite limited resources, Niki and a scrappy team of artists, forgers and others—now nicknamed The Lipstick Bureau—find success, forming a bond amid the cobblestoned streets and storied villas of the newly liberated city. But her work is also a way to escape devastating truths about the family she left behind in Czechoslovakia and a future with her controlling American husband.

As the war drags on and the pressure intensifies, Niki begins to question the rules she's been instructed to follow, and a colleague unexpectedly captures her heart. But one step out of line, one mistake, could mean life or death…

HERE'S AN EXCERPT FROM THE LIPSTICK BUREAU

NIKI

May 1989

Washington, DC

Niki’s stomach flip-flops, and there’s a wild fluttering in her chest. You’re fine, she tells herself. In this buzzing,

glittering room of some three hundred, she’s unlikely to encounter anyone she knows. Not that she’d recognize

hthem if she did.

It’s been almost forty-five years.

“Jeez, what a turnout,” her daughter, Andrea, says as Niki takes several short inhales, trying

to wrangle her breath.

“Did you know this many people would show up?”

“I had no idea what to expect,” Niki answers, and this much is true. When the invitation

arrived three months ago, she’d almost pitched it straight into the trash.

You are invited

to a Black-Tie Dinner

Honoring

The Ladies of the O.S.S.

The ladies of the OSS. A deceptively quaint title, like a neighborhood bridge club, or a collection

of wives whose given names are not important.

“You should go,” Niki’s husband had said when she showed him the thick, ecru cardstock with its ornate

engraving. “Relive your war days.”

“Manfred,” Niki had replied sternly. “Nobody wants to relive those.”

Though he’d convinced Niki to accept the invitation, it hadn’t been the hardest sell. Manfred was ill—

dying, in fact, of late-stage lung cancer—and Niki figured the tick mark beside “yes” was merely

a way to delay a no.

The week before the event, Manfred was weaker than ever, and Niki saw her chance to back out. “I’ll

just skip it,” she’d said. “This is for the best. You’d be bored out of your skull, and no one I worked

with will even be there!”

“Zuska,” Manfred said, using her old pet name. As always, he’d known what his wife was up to.

“I want you to go. Take Andrea. She could use a night out. It’d be like a holiday for her.”

“I don’t know…” Niki demurred. Their daughter did hate to cook, and no doubt longed for a

break from her two extremely pert teenagers.

“You can’t refuse,” Manfred said. “What if this ends up qualifying as my dying wish?” It was a

joke, but what could Niki possibly say to that?

Now she regrets having shown Manfred the invitation and is discomfited by the scene.

Niki feels naked, exposed, as though she’s wearing a transparent blouse instead of a black sparkly top with

double shoulder pads.

“Do you think you’ll spot anyone you know?” Andrea asks as they wend their way through

the tables, scanning for number eighteen. Every Czech native considers eighteen an auspicious

number, so maybe this is a positive sign.

“It’s unlikely,” Niki says. “The dinner is honoring women, and I mostly worked with men.” Most of

whom are now dead, she does not add.

Soon enough, mother and daughter find their table, and exchange greetings with the two women already

seated. Niki squints at their badges and notes they worked in different theaters of operation. Onstage is a

podium, behind it a screen emblazoned with O.S.S. Beneath the letters is a gold spade encircled in black.

“What a beautiful outfit!” says one of their tablemates in a tight Texas twang.

“Thank you.” Niki blushes lightly, smoothing her billowy, bright green chiffon skirt.

“You’re the prettiest one in the place,” Andrea whispers as they sit.

“What a load of shit,” Niki spits back. In this room, it’s sequins and diamonds and fur for miles. She pats

Andrea’s hand. “But thank you for the compliment.” And thank God for Manfred, who’d raised their girl to treat

her mother so well.

Manfred. Niki feels a quake somewhere deep. She is losing him. She’s been losing him for a long time, and

maybe this is the reason she came tonight. Those three letters on-screen call up—rather, exhume—a swarm of

emotions, not all of them good. But they also offer a strange kind of hope, a reminder that Niki’s survived

loss before, and this old body of hers has lived more than one life.

MICHELLE'S WORDS

Welcome to my site!

I’m the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of A PARIS APARTMENT, I’LL SEE YOU IN PARIS, THE BOOK OF SUMMER, THE SUMMER I MET JACK, and THE BOOKSELLER’S SECRET, which launched in August 2021 and is already a national and Canadian bestseller! I also have numerous books that will forever remain stored on my computer or in my childhood bedroom.

I grew up in sunny San Diego and began writing in fourth grade after my parents gave me a book called Someday You’ll Write. I started with short stories and eventually elevated to terrible high school novels in which people sported “white pumps” and the protagonist said things like “His name was Justin. He was tall, almost 5’2.” According to lifelong friends, I turned every playdate and slumber party into a writing group.

Authorial aspirations in mind, I attended The College of William & Mary and majored in…accounting. As one does. After graduation, I pursued a career in finance, but through it all, I wrote. Nearly every day. I wrote at five o’clock in the morning, or eleven o’clock at night, or while my children assembled their own school lunches (yes, while working full-time). Several of my earlier novels were written almost entirely by hand, sitting behind softball dugouts or in the car while my daughters warmed up pitching. That, my friends, is my #1 tip for becoming a published author. You write. No matter what.

These days you’ll find me writing in Cardiff-by-the-Sea, California, where I live with my husband (a biotech CFO), two incredible teenaged daughters, lazy cat, and a Thai street dog rescued from the dog meat trade. Winnie is a Jindo, otherwise known as the smartest, best-behaved dog in the world.

SOCIAL LINKS:

Author website: https://michellegable.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/MGableWriter

IG: https://www.instagram.com/mgablewriter/

BUY LINKS:

Bookshop.org:

https://bookshop.org/p/books/the-lipstick-bureau-a-novel-inspired-by-true-wwii-events-original-michelle-gable/17917455

Indiebound: https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781525811470

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-lipstick-bureau-michelle-gable/1142529516

Indigo:

https://www.chapters.indigo.ca/en-ca/books/the-lipstick-bureau-a-novel/9781525804977-item.html

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Lipstick-Bureau-Novel-Inspired-Events/dp/1525811479/