Helen Gurley Brown’s legacy on Cosmopolitan is one that is still felt today. In her 32 years as editor-in-chief of the magazine, she worked with a number of incredible editors and people who helped turn it into the ultimate women’s magazine. One of those lucky people is none other than author John Searles, who is now giving us a look at what it was like to work with the iconic EIC and how she never gave up on making the magazine that she believed in.
Cosmopolitan has an exclusive look at Single Girls by John Searles, which is set to be released on July 7, 2026.
“Long before she transformed Cosmopolitan into a cultural force, HGB was a woman with a radical idea…and a room full of men telling her no. In the 1960s, her bestselling book Sex and the Single Girl shocked the country, insisting women could prioritize careers, desire, and independence over marriage,” John told Cosmopolitan. “Half the country was scandalized (her mother included!); the other half saw a revelation.”
In his new fictionalization of the first years of Helen’s reign at Cosmopolitan, readers get a fun, heartfelt, and inspiring look at the group of women who changed the magazine game. It’s a joyous ode to the history of the brand and a stunning tribute to Helen and her impact. Here’s some info from our friends at Mariner Books:
An infectious and utterly charming fictionalization of the iconic Helen Gurley Brown’s early years at the helm of Cosmopolitan, and the intrepid group of women she took under her wing to create one of the most talked about magazines of all time.
In 1965, Helen Gurley Brown, a soft spoken, self-professed “mouseburger,” is fresh off the runaway success of her book Sex and the Single Girl, a revolutionary call to single women urging them not to rush into marriage on anyone’s timeline but their own, and, even more radically, to enjoy their sex lives, gloriously free of shame. Upon the book’s publication, half the country is outraged (her mother, for one, hates it), and the other half will follow her anywhere. Moved by the thousands of letters arriving at her doorstep from readers desperate for advice, she marches from one Manhattan magazine conglomerate to another, looking for a perch from which to dispense her unconventional wisdom. At her last stop, she finally gets her shot: just three issues to turn around the flailing magazine Cosmopolitan.
Helen quickly assembles a team of smart, savvy single girls up to the task. Soon, their lives become the stuff of magazine cover lines: the gorgeous Book Editor’s doomed romance with a man she didn’t know was married—and her bold idea for revenge. The (unofficial!) Sex Editor’s trip to soak in the world’s first champagne glass hot tub, which takes a very wrong turn. The Entertainment Editor’s clash with Joan Crawford and interview with a Park Avenue call girl that leads to unexpected revelations.
Single Girls begins at the dawn of Helen’s storied tenure and journeys back to her youth, envisioning the devastations and people who forged her into a controversial legend. It imagines the way one unsinkable group of women navigated gender roles and workplace power dynamics long before these issues entered the headlines. With dazzling, high-energy prose, it recreates not just a movement, but a mood: one of ambition, reinvention, and the intoxicating thrill of being young when a new world was possible for a single girl if only she was fearless enough to reach out and grab it.
“Fueled by a flood of letters from readers hungry for more, Helen dreamed up a magazine—then called FEMME—that spoke to single women,” John noted. “But she ran straight into skepticism from media executives who believed advertisers only cared about wives…and their husbands’ wallets.”
Check out an exclusive sneak peek from Single Girls below! Just make sure to pre-order the book so you can read the rest when it’s released!
“What I want to do, Mr. Deems, is take the essence of my book and transform it into a monthly magazine. FEMME will speak directly to single women, telling them how to—”
He sat up abruptly, holding out a hand yet again. “Gotta stop you there. Married women. That’s the reader we want. Advertisers love ’em because they’ve got their husband’s money to spend. Besides, let’s face it, no woman wants to be single even a second longer than necessary.”
Too often, men made comments that left Helen choking on their words. She watched him look to David, her husband who had come along for the meeting, hoping for a laugh, though he couldn’t even fake a smile.
“Oh? And why is that, Mr. Deems?” Helen’s voice had an inviting purr, which she considered among her very best traits for the way it put people at ease, delicately camouflaging her intellect and ambition.
“Please, call me Dick. Like I said, sooner or later everybody does.”
I bet, she thought. “Of course, Dick. But why do you say that women don’t want to be single any longer than necessary?”
“Plenty of reasons. One that comes to mind right away: spinsterdom.”
Helen repeated the word, so it sounded like “spinster-dumb.” She gave a wilted look at the mock- up she’d presented of FEMME, heart sinking at the thought of all those letters from her readers in baskets back at their apartment with postmarks from Superior, Wyoming, to Hurt, Virginia, and still more remote.
“I may not have read your book, but I get the gist. I don’t think we should encourage certain behaviors in a magazine. We don’t want to give the wrong idea.”
“And what’s the wrong idea?”
“That single women should go out and, you know . . . enjoy . . . you know . . .”
“Sex?” Helen said to Dick, her voice working its disarming magic. “Is that what a single woman isn’t supposed to go out and enjoy?”
“Exactly what I was driving at, but I’m too much of a gentleman to say.”
“A gentleman. Of course. But may I ask you, what if a lady resists her . . . lustful urges? What if she waits for marriage, only to discover, to her horror, on her wedding night that her new husband—” She thought of a letter she’d come across from a baffled and deeply unhappy reader just that morning. “—shouts about his mommy while making love?”
Dick raised his eyebrows. “His mommy?”
“Yes. Or some other catastrophe, like he’s impotent or suffers from erotophobia or—”
“Eroto- what?”
“Phobia. A fear of sex.”
“There’s such a thing?”
“Indeed.”
“Well . . . I’d say bum deal for her.”
“I’d say the whole setup is a bum deal.” Helen could not resist speaking with more urgency now. “It’s my firm belief that there’s a tidal wave of misinformation these days about the plight of the single woman. They’re labeled spinsters, widows, or that most shameful thing of all, divorcées. Know what I think a single woman’s biggest problem is? Coping with all the people trying to marry her off. She’s downright herded and hypnotized by well- meaning but addlepated friends, family, and society at large, all telling her that the only way for her to enjoy life is to be married. And that’s why her entire existence seems to be an apology for not being married.”
“With all due respect, Mrs. Brown—”
“Please, call me Helen.”
“You’re contradicting yourself, Helen.”
Dick stood and came around his desk again. She watched him pick up the mock- up of FEMME, tapping his finger on one cover line in particular:
Where the Men Are
“Isn’t the whole point of your book and this magazine you’re proposing that a single woman should make it her mission to find any man she can to drag down the aisle?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Then what is your point? Because you’ve got me a bit mixed up here.”
“My point is not about finding any man. It’s about finding the right man at the right time for her. And I can’t say this enough: If a man is what she wants. If she doesn’t? So be it. She can live just as happy and fulfilling a life being single without a drop of shame.”
Dick put down the mock- up and leaned on his desk, crossing his arms.
Helen let a moment pass before trying a more personal approach. “I married for the first time at thirty- seven. And I got the man I wanted. It could be construed as a miracle, considering how old I was and how eligible David was.” She paused to look at her husband. “A motion picture producer, forty- three at the time, brainy, charming, and sexy. David was sought after by many a Hollywood starlet. And I got him!” She turned to Mr. Deems. “I’ll be the first to admit: I’m not beautiful or even pretty. ‘Plain as a dishrag,’ my mother used to say. Also, I once had the world’s worst case of acne. I’m not bosomy or brilliant. I grew up in a small town. I didn’t go to college. My family was, and is, desperately poor . . . But even so, I don’t think it’s a miracle that I married my husband. I think I deserved him! For years, I worked hard to become the kind of woman who enjoyed her life, despite the aforementioned setbacks, and to become the kind of woman who might interest a man like David. And when he finally walked into my life, I was just worldly enough, relaxed enough, financially secure enough— because I also worked like hell at my jobs— and I was adorned with enough glitter to attract him. He wouldn’t have looked at me when I was twenty, and I wouldn’t have known what to do with him.”
Mr. Deems was silent, inscrutably so. He picked up the bowl, debating another piece of candy.
“Mr. Deems . . . or Dick . . . my entire credo is self- help for single women like I was. Because I believe it never hurts for a woman, or anyone really, to work hard at improving every aspect of life: career, dress, health, finances, makeup . . . and yes, somewhere at the top of the list, romantic prospects. A woman cannot sit around like a cupcake asking other people to come and eat her up and discover her great sweetness and charm. A woman has got to make herself more…cupcakable all the time, so she’s a better cupcake to be gobbled up.”
The secretary appeared at the door again. “Your nine forty- five is on the line from Dayton, sir.”
“We’ll leave you to your call,” Helen told him, feeling silly about peddling that cupcake metaphor to a man who obviously couldn’t care less. Then she thought of the things he did care about. “There’s one last thing I’d like to mention: I understand that business is, first and foremost, a numbers game. So, here are some for you: More than 13 million women in this country are unmarried. Another 1.7 million are divorcées. Another 1.4 million are legally separated. Plus, 2.6 million women report having absent husbands, and 8.3 million are widows. That totals up to 27 million potential readers out there. In my opinion, it’s an opportunity gone begging. Because while other magazines are busy talking to married women about God and PTA meetings, baking cookies and pushing strollers, no magazine is talking to them. I want to talk to them, and I know a good many want to hear what I have to say.”
Dick began rearranging his desk, making no eye contact.
Helen returned her mock- up to the portfolio, zipped it shut.
The secretary brought their coats, and they slipped them on.
There was nothing to be done but thank the man and go. They were about to do just that when Dick said, “I’m not sure if it was that bit about being cupcake-like, or however you put it . . . or your big finish with the numbers . . . or that stuff about making a better life in all areas. But, well, you managed to reach inside my brain and shake it around a bit. My wife would tell you that’s not easy. I like you, Helen. And I like what you had to say.”
Helen looked up, suddenly hopeful. “Does that mean . . . FEMME?”
“In a word: no. Financials are too risky. Also, I do my homework too. You’ve been shopping this idea all over town. Dell turned you down. So did the brass at Fawcett. I’m the last stop for this single women’s train of yours. It’s not gonna happen with FEMME.”
“I see. Well, thank you very much for your time.”
“Thank you,” David said too.
At last, they turned to go. Helen was already imagining the bus ride home, during which David would, no doubt, try to cheer her up. But how could she feel cheerful when this really was the last media company that could fund their—
“Either of you ever seen a limping bunny?” Dick asked.
Helen and David looked back at him, confused. “Pardon?” she said.
Dick waved a hand at the blinking light on his phone. “That blow-hard from the Buckeye State can cool his jets and call back. Come with me. I’ll show you exactly what I mean.”
Helen didn’t know yet that he was taking her to the office of a failing magazine called Cosmopolitan…and she was about to be given a chance to turn it around.
From SINGLE GIRLS by John Searles. Copyright © 2026 by John Searles. Reprinted by permission of Mariner Books, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
Single Girls, by John Searles will be released on July 7, 2026 from Mariner Books. To preorder the book, click on the retailer of your choice:
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