Verbal tics are a plague. The word “like” had a long, nasty run in the 1980s, but it was overtaken in the 1990s by the incessant and incorrect use of “actually.” To judge from Sophie Kinsella’s new novel “The Undomestic Goddess” (The Dial Press, 384 pages, $23), the contemporary tic to be reckoned with is “er.”

Within the first 20 pages of the novel, I counted seven uses of “er.” As in: “‘Well. You turn the … er … knob,’ I say trying to sound nonchalant.” Or: “‘Oh!’ I say quickly. ‘Oh, those bags. Er …'” After that point, I decided to keep a running tally. By my count, this 371-page novel contains 70 uses of “er.” Numerically speaking, that ratio may not be shocking, but when it crops up in every conversation, it becomes annoying.

Which is a shame. “The Undomestic Goddess” is otherwise a fun, easy breezy read with a straightforward life-turned-upside-down plot. Samantha Sweeting is a top lawyer at Carter Spink, a major firm in London. She’s a workaholic who doesn’t know how to sew on a button. It appears that Samantha has made a multimillion dollar mistake, discovered on the very day she is invited to become a partner. Samantha goes a little bonkers and hops a train to anywhere, only to find herself mistaken for a housekeeper. She plays along and becomes one.

She’s now expected to serve up fancy meals, iron shirts, and make the beds. And here’s an unexpected plot twist: She falls in love. The gardener just happens to be a total hottie, who just happens to have gone to university. We are led to assume that he went to Oxford. He introduces her to the joys of country life, the food, the greenery, the pace. Out in the country, see, they take more time to enjoy life. Much more time.(Wink wink, nudge nudge.)

When it turns out that Samantha’s legal mistake was a setup, she has the opportunity to return to her old life. She’s even invited back as a partner. What ensues is a hilarious portrayal of the British press. Samantha decides not to take the offer, and instead returns to her duties as housekeeper. When the tabloids get wind of it, she makes the front page with the headline: “I’d Rather Clean Loos Than Be a Partner at Carter Spink.”

With time to reconsider the situation, though, Samantha does decide to return to the firm. At that point, the firm calls a splashy press conference to control the damage to its image. But the tables turn again. After announcing her decision and boarding the train to the city in her power suit, she bails – and love prevails. Samantha runs back to the husky arms of the smart gardener, and all is well with the world.

“The Undomestic Goddess” is the definition of a “summer read.” The fantasy plot clips along smoothly. Samantha is talented and capable, but she’s thrown into a different world in which her skills count for nothing. If you like to witness people using a washing machine or a whisk for the first time, this book has plenty of scenes that will amuse. And if you enjoy reading the speech of a person with a verbal … er … tic, then you’re in the right place.

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Is it a coincidence of these books, or is the brawny boy who prefers manual labor but went to an exclusive university a working-girl daydream? The well-educated guy who likes to work outside also appears in this month’s “Man Camp” (Random House, 224 pages, $21.95).

In Adrienne Brodeur’s novel, our strapping lad is Cooper Tuckington. This fellow went back to work on his family’s dairy farm in West Virginia after graduating from Columbia University. At school, he became best pals with Lucy, one of the novel’s main characters.

Lucy and her friend Martha are typical urban gals, wondering why more Manhattan guys can’t be as well-mannered and tough as Cooper. They decide to do something about it: Man Camp. They don’t call it that, but they do take a crew of guys (who willingly sign up for the trip) to Cooper’s farm, where they get a dose of the simple life.

“Man Camp” is short, but more tart than sweet. The writing is at times forced and unnatural: “Lucy spends most of the night skimming along the surface of sleep, alighted on the isthmus between consciousness and unconsciousness.” (How does it feel, really, to alight on that particular isthmus?)

Then there’s the description of why Cooper went to a big-time college, if only to return to the farm. Martha asks:

“At the risk of sounding like a snob, how does a Columbia graduate end up a dairy farmer?”

Lucy had asked Cooper the same question a dozen times in college. “If he were here, he’d challenge you to explain why the lessons of literature and philosophy are more germane to your life than his,” she says, picturing Cooper milking cows at dawn with a copy of Nietzsche’s Beyond Good and Evil in his back pocket.”

Oh noble savage! You make for such good material.