Spellbound, by Jane Green <br></br>Stripped Bare, by Lowri Turner

Tales of transformation and makeover

Trinny and Susannah have a lot to answer for. No self-respecting heroine of middlebrow literature can hope to achieve the "happily ever after" these days without the assistance of a head-to-toe makeover – preferably involving several trips to Selfridges and a top London hair salon. Only when the right mascara wands have been waved can they stake their claim to a shiny new life.

Jane Green is an old hand at this kind of contemporary fairytale, as the author of five bestselling chicklit adventures (including Jemima J, Mr Maybe and Babyville). In her new novel, Spellbound, she gamely subverts the genre by looking at what happens when Mr Right turns into Mr Wrong and when the heroine finds unexpected redemption in natural hair colour and orthopaedic shoes.

Alice, the capable protagonist, is a down-to-earth, Home Counties sort of a girl, who runs her own catering company. Convinced of her undesirability, she's bowled over by the attentions of Joe, a handsome City banker, who sees in Alice all the makings of a suitable wife. In girlie gratitude she readily submits to his requests to glam up, and it's not long before her mousy curls are replaced by a "streaky sheet" and her jeans by Gucci's finest.

The couple relocate to New York, where Joe, a dedicated womaniser, finds himself in demand. Meanwhile Alice retreats to their Connecticut farmhouse. Unaware of her husband's after-hours exploits, she once more metamorphs – this time into a Martha Stewart type in gardening clogs and plaid shirts. Green does a convincing job of New England parochialism and, as ever, whips up a sparkling morality tale that points the finger at bad boys and low-rent romance.

Transformations of a more concrete nature take centre-stage in journalist and broadcaster Lowri Turner's debut novel. Stripped Bare is an in-your-face satire of life behind the cameras of reality TV. It's hard not to read the novel as a roman à clef. The show in question – like the author's own – concerns DIY makeovers, with a heroine torn by the demands of career and motherhood.

Don't expect any surprises. Unafraid of "jumping the shark", media pro Turner has appropriated the traditional chicklit formula – a group of women friends with problematic love lives – and injected her own brand of sisterly cynicism. Beth, the series director, is a first-time mum whose husband is sleeping with a lap-dancer. Assistant producer Siobhan is having an affair with a married man; and posh Olivia, the wardrobe designer, is about to discover that house-husband Colin has developed a less than macho interest in soft furnishings.

Like Green, Turner has gone beyond finding Mr Right, and tantalisingly hints at the darker side of marriage. But watching paint dry is no more exciting in a book than on the telly. The point of "good bad" novels is to offer all the narrative thrills without the guilt. Readers will quite rightly be expecting a more radical makeover than even Handy Andy and his power tools can provide.