A second chance at love sets sail when a couple on the verge of divorce pretend they’re still together for one last family trip, from the author of Roslyn and Liam met nine years ago and have been the perfect couple ever since. Through every up and down, every milestone--from Liam’s residency to the publication of Roslyn’s debut romance--they’ve been each other’s rocks. Until now. Pulled apart by the untimely death of Roslyn’s mom and the undertow of grief, they’re now navigating the final wave in their marriage: divorce. Heartbroken and unsure how to tell her family she’s called it quits with everyone’s favorite son-in-law, Roslyn keeps the impending divorce a secret. But when Roslyn’s grandparents ask if Liam can officiate their vow renewal ceremony aboard a Hawaiian cruise during their annual vacation, Roslyn needs to tell the truth or figure out a way to keep her secret. A week trapped at sea with her ex isn’t ideal, but neither Roslyn nor Liam want to rock the boat, so they concoct a plan--they’ll fake it. After five years of marriage, they can figure out how to pretend for jungle hikes and mai tais, right? But when reality and make believe starts to blur, and old feelings begin to resurface, Roslyn and Liam have to decide whether it’s sink or swim for their marriage.

Autorentext
Heather McBreen currently lives in Seattle, Washington, but spent the best year of her life living in London, where she completed an MA degree in arts and cultural management. When she's not writing or reading books about kissing, she can be found surfing the web for travel deals and plotting her next adventure. Wedding Dashers is her debut novel.

Leseprobe
Chapter 1
Now I push soggy layers of pasta and dry beef back and forth on my plate, trying to guess whether the dish in front of me is actually lasagna, or if the cook realized too late that all they had was ketchup and mozzarella and decided to just go with it. 
I pick up a forkful, examine it, then set it back down again.
Just because something is called lasagna on a menu, doesn’t make it lasagna. But then again, it’s hard to enjoy…whatever this is, when my husband—soon-to-be-ex-husband—made what I enthusiastically dubbed The World’s Best Lasagna.
I used to beg him for the recipe, but he’d just smile—the one with the dimples that made my knees go weak—and tell me that if he shared it then I wouldn’t ask him to make it for me anymore. Which seemed romantic at the time. A tacit acknowledgement that he’d always be there.
But I guess that was just another lie. One of many.
“Roslyn? You’ve hardly touched your food,” comes Grammy’s voice, drawing me out of my thoughts and back into the restaurant.
I’ve been dodging family dinner for months, cycling through numerous excuses. Not feeling well. Doing taxes. Writing deadline. But after the fourth last minute cancellation, I figured I couldn’t stave it off much longer. Which is how I ended up at a strip mall Italian eatery serving up half-priced drinks and all-you-can-eat breadsticks, sitting across from my grandparents and siblings while they pepper me with questions I don’t know how to answer.
“Just not hungry,” I tell her, forcing a tight smile. Which I seem to be doing a lot of this evening. I wouldn’t be surprised if my jaw hurts in the morning. 
“Are you sick?” my little sister Bella asks from across the table. “You look like one of the cadavers from the lab we did last week.”
“The flu has been especially bad this year,” Jonah agrees, using his most distinguished I’m-your-older-brother-I-know-best voice. “My ER has seen a big uptick in high-risk cases.”
“I was reading that as well,” Gramps agrees before launching into a discussion on hospital politics and the American medical system while Bella, Jonah, and his husband all nod along, adding in thoughtful hmmmm’s and good point’s and how interesting’s, rendering me invisible as usual.
I used to resent conversations like this. Ones that widened the already existing gap between me and my family of doctors. But tonight, I’m thankful for the excuse to fade into the background of clattering plates and Frank Sinatra warbling over the speaker.
I return to picking at my food until the conversation wraps back around to me.
“If you’re showing symptoms, you need to stay home Roslyn,” Gramps says, giving me a heavy look.
“I don’t have the flu,” I tell him.
I’m just getting divorced. But I can see the confusion since I’m pretty sure I look like death.
“And thanks for telling me I look like a dead body,” I tell Bella. “You sure know how to flatter.”
“What?” She raises both hands above the table in a sign of surrender. “I’m just saying as a doctor, you look unwell.”
“Almost-doctor,” I correct. “You’re still in school.”
“I only have one more year left,” she says, giving me a pointed look as she sweeps a curtain of long, blonde hair from her eyes.
Between my siblings, Bella reminds me the most of our mother—tall, waifish and elegant, like a ballerina, with glassy skin and straight, blonde hair, while I look more like my dad. We might not have gotten a single child support payment from him, but I did get his short stature and dark, unruly curls that turn into a frizzy lion’s mane anytime humidity exceeds fifty percent.
“If you’re not hungry, why don’t you ask for a box so you can bring the rest back to Liam,” Grammy suggests, nodding towards my plate of picked-over food. “I’m sure he’ll be hungry when he gets home from the hospital.”
My stomach does a little flop at the sound of Liam’s name. Though it’s anyone’s guess whether that’s because Liam’s name still inspires a cocktail of potent emotions ranging from anger to crippling sadness, or because my family still doesn’t know that I asked Liam for a divorce and I’ve been lying about his whereabouts for the last three months.
“Right. Good idea,” I tell Grammy, forcing yet another tight smile. “He’ll probably be hungry after his shift.” Lie. I don’t even know if Liam’s working tonight. Though long hospital shifts are an excuse my family of doctors is used to.
“It’s too bad he couldn’t join us for dinner,” Grammy says, casting the vacant seat beside me a lingering look. “It’s been ages since we’ve seen him. Poor thing had that stomach bug last month.”
“I thought it was a sinus infection?” Jonah asks.
“Um yeah, he had that too,” I say, playing with my napkin.
“Liam sure has been sick a lot,” Bella says, pinning me with a hard look, and I mentally berate myself for not diversifying my excuses a little more. I could have said he was out of town. Or hell, faked his death. Or better yet, faked my own death so I don’t have to be here right now.
“Is he feeling any better?” Grammy asks.
I corral my mouth into another strained smile. “Much better.”
Grammy nods, pleased. “Good. We need him in tiptop health for the family vacation coming up. After all, we’ve got a full itinerary planned. Hiking in Maui. Ziplining on Oahu. Snorkeling on The Big Island.”
“Right,” I say. “He’s really excited for the trip.” Another lie.
Usually, the annual family vacation is one of the highlights of the year. A time to relax and unwi…