You ask, you get! I’ve added a reading at the Santa Monica Barnes & Noble on Thursday, May 1. Details to come, but I hope to see lots of you Left Coasters there.

I’ve had two wonderful readings, in NYC and Philadelphia, with lots of friends and friendly faces.

My friend Kim came with her kids, along with regulars at my husband’s blog Matt and Jon and Gretchen

Former Philly homegirl/author Karen Abbott stopped by, and so did Tiffany Green, who was in “Hairspray,” and a book club from Hamden, Connecticut, and my mother’s friend Doey’s daughter Sara. There were Facebook friends and MySpace friends and tonight, I think almost everyone I know in Philadelphia came to St. Peter’s School tonight.

Last night, after the New York event, I went to the now-traditional publication-day dinner
at a super-fancy restaurant, which was the subject of much griping.

“I don’t like this place,” my publicist confided. “You order the scallop appetizer, and it’s a scallop. I’m going to order FIVE appetizers so I can get FIVE scallops,” she said, as my lovely editor (the one with the credit card) blanched.

We got there and studied the menu, which offered were two choices: a three-course prix fixe or a five-course prix fixe. We asked if we could order dishes for the table to share. The waiter gave a five-minute soliloquy that basically amounted to, “No, you cannot.”

“Do you have any specials?” my publicist asked.

“Everything on the menu is special,” said the waiter. My publicist gave him a look of, “Dude, I spin for a living and even I am not buying that.”

“We do have some lobster,” the waiter admitted. “And some caviar.”

My publicist closed her menu. “I’ll have lobster coated in caviar,” she said. My editor gulped. My publicist relented and ordered the Kobe beef instead.

Wine was ordered. There were toasts. The single scallops arrived and were promptly devoured.

Then the publishing people spent the rest of the meal engaged in high-level publishing gossip about which editor inherited which high-profile project, and my publicist and I talking about our mutual obsession with “Rock of Love.”

“Would you do Bret Michaels?” she asked.

I told her that I would not, because it would be, at this point, akin to licking a Petri dish, and that also his hair frightens me.

“I’d do him,” she said dreamily. “I think he’s hot.”

I told her that I watch the show mostly because I’m fascinated by the contestants, who I described to my friend Joyce, and the audience last night, thusly: Imagine the skankiest skank in the world. Then marinate her in puke, soak her in vodka, roll her in hair extensions and fake eyelashes, and you have the “Rock of Love” ladies.

We agreed that Daisy would win, because Bret likes the crazy. We agreed that we can’t figure out exactly what 37-year-old Ambre is doing on the show, because she seems mostly normal and employed. Then we started singing “Every Rose Has Its Thorns,” much to the amusement of the table full of businessmen behind us.

Thanks so much to everyone who’s come out so far, and to everyone who's bought the book. I hope to see more Philly folk at the Free Library at 4 p.m. this Sunday, and in California on May 1.

And for those who can’t make it to a reading and have Sirius Radio, tomorrow night I’ll be on Candace Bushnell’s radio show live at 6 p.m..