Rules for a Pretty Woman, by Suzette Francis.

I think this might be the worst book I have ever read. No plot, nothing redeemable, no dynamic characters — just a 35-year-old woman who is nauseatingly male-centered and a bore to read about. The protagonist in this one is insufferable: the kind of woman I would feel sorry for if she wasn’t halfway through her 30s and should know better. The obsession with finding a husband, the obsession with wanting a child, the negligence applied to her friendships, the blaming her best friend for her husband cheating… I’m throwing up in my mouth. She’s the kind of woman I make a concentrated effort to exclude from my life.

Don’t bother.