Honeymoon For One

Portia Macintosh

Description

*Shortlisted for RNA Romantic Comedy of the Year*

'A hilarious, roaringly fun, feel good, sexy read. I LOVED it!' Holly Martin

'This book made me laugh and kept me turning the pages. A nice easy-flowing rom com!'Mandy Baggot

When disaster strikes, paradise calls...

As a published novelist, Lila Rose has been writing about fictional weddings all her life. But disaster strikes on her own big day when she hears her philandering fiancé, Daniel whispering sweet nothings to someone else.

With her dream day shattered, all Lila wants to do is run and hide, so she decides to fly solo on her own honeymoon.

When Daniel arrives in the resort with his new squeeze, Lila strikes up a ‘showmance’ with hot new movie star, Freddie Bianchi. Freddie is perfect for the part and Lila soon relaxes into her leading lady role.

But as truth starts to merge with fiction, could real love be in the air?

A sizzling holiday romance, perfect for fans of Sophie Kinsella, Lindsey Kelk and Sophie Ranald’s Sorry Not Sorry.

What readers are saying about Honeymoon For One:

'A feel good, funny and well written book. I read it in 2 days and enjoyed every second!' A.L. Michael

'This is a heartwarming fun story, perfect for several hours of pure escapism.' Jessica Redland

'A perfect summer escape sort of a book, it transported me to San Valentino, to some excellent Italian food, a large number of porn star martinis, and some simply wonderful scenes. I enjoyed every last momentof this book.' Rachel Gilbey

'The perfect summer read. Light, funny, so well written - laugh out loud funny- loved the story, the characters and the setting' NetGalley reviewer'It has everything you need for a good time in the pages. Definitely a great summer read.'

'Riotously funny. I was giggling, smiling and laughing along at so many of the fabulous lines.'

'Great story, wonderful characters and an idyllic setting.'

'A summer of fun and Pornstar Martinis.'

Sujets

• Policier & Thriller
• Thriller
• Sea Stories
• Mashups
• Holidays
• Idioma inglés
• Coming of Age
• Men
• Lights (EP)
• Wedding Night
• Contemporary history
• Madeleine Wickham
• SpongeBob SquarePants
• Bridesmaid
• General officer
• Mother's Day
• List of islands of Greece
• English
• Valentine's Day
• Summer
• Wedding
• General
• Holiday
• Contemporary
• Sagas
• Topic
• Greece
• Sophie Kinsella
• Romance
• Fiction
• Anglais
• Humour

Informations

• Publié par: Boldwood Books
• Date de parution: 06 août 2019
• Nombre de lectures: 16
• EAN13: 9781838890759
• Langue: English

Extrait

HONEYMOON FOR ONE


PORTIA MACINTOSH
For my incredible family
CONTENTS



Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41


More from Portia MacIntosh

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Also by Portia MacIntosh

Love Notes

About Boldwood Books
1
MY WEDDING DAY

Your wedding day is the start of a life-long journey, and, like any other journey, it requires a lot of planning.
First, and most importantly, you need to know where you’re going and how you’re going to get there. Are you on a one-track path to growing old together or are you planning on making stops at pets, babies or house moves?
On a real trip you’re going to want insurance, but on the life-long journey of marriage, assurance is what you need. Are you doing this with the right person? Will they stand by you for better, for worse? For richer, for poorer? In sickness and in health?
When your plans are all in place and it’s time to set off on this wonderful, wild adventure, the only thing left to do is pack – but pack light.
Unfortunately, on this non-stop flight to a happy ever after, ex-boyfriends will not fit in the overhead storage, no matter how much you dissected the relationship. All baggage must be destroyed before boarding – you absolutely cannot bring your baggage into a marriage.
Before you tie the knot, customs will confiscate any and all contraband still on your person, not limited to, but including flirtatious WhatsApp threads and other miscellaneous weaponry.
I’m travelling light today. All I have with me is my something old (a necklace my grandma left me in her will), my something new (the sapphire studs in my ears), and my something borrowed (a handkerchief from my mum, which I’m going to keep in the pocket of my wedding dress, because you’d better believe I had my wedding dress made with sneaky pockets). My something blue is (apparently) my best friend, Ali, who is currently lying on the chaise longue at the bottom of my bed in my hotel room.
‘Oh, Lila,’ she says dramatically. ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’
I smile at myself in the mirror. Most best friends are supportive, attentive maids of honour. Ali is showing me her love and support by constantly questioning whether or not this is the right thing to do. I wouldn’t have her any other way though.
‘I’m pretty sure,’ I tell her. ‘I made sure I was sure before I spent thousands of pounds on a wedding and a honeymoon.’
‘Well, yeah, I figured,’ she replies. ‘But… I don’t know, I don’t think I thought you’d go through with it.’
I laugh.
‘And yet here we are,’ I say, smiling at her.
‘Daniel is… you know, he’s fine,’ she says.
‘Fine,’ I repeat back to her. Just what a bride wants to hear on her wedding day.
‘Yeah, he’s fine… he’s maybe just fine though?’
My best friend hasn’t waited until my wedding day to say this, she’s been telling me for years that Daniel was just too boring to settle down with. I think this is a ‘speak now or forever hold your peace’ type conversation, not that the latter sounds remotely like something Ali would do.
‘I know you think he’s boring,’ I tell her. ‘But, maybe “boring guys” are the ones you settle down with? Take that playboy banker you met last weekend – you wouldn’t marry him, would you?’
‘Well, someone clearly did,’ she points out. ‘There was a wedding ring in his hotel bathroom.’
‘Was?’ I dare to ask.
‘Yeah, I flushed it down the lav,’ she says casually. ‘I really don’t appreciate being lied to.’
Ali is a real force to be reckoned with.
‘I know you’re only being semi-serious with the whole talking me out of getting married thing,’ I start. ‘But honestly, I’ve thought this through. I love him, we’re happy together – OK, things might not be wild, but I know in my heart that it’s time to put sexy playboy bankers behind me.’
‘Well, that’s what I do with them,’ Ali says with a wiggle of her eyebrows.
I know that Ali just wants me to be happy, but I did consider all of this before agreeing to marry my fiancé, Daniel Tyler, and when I say I considered it before agreeing, I mean I literally asked him for a moment, before I gave him my answer. The reason for this is because marriage is something I take seriously. My parents, both sixty-five years of age, have been married since they were nineteen. I might be thirty-one, but I want to marry once, and for life. I had a blast in my twenties, Daniel and I moved in together when I was twenty-nine and now, comfortably accepting of the fact I am in my thirties, I finally feel ready to tie the knot.
When some women say they have been planning their wedding for years, what they really mean is they’ve been dressing up in net curtains as kids and trolling Pinterest for flower arrangements as adults. Well, I really have been planning weddings for years… sort of. Not my own wedding and I’m certainly not a wedding planner.
I’m a rom-com author and although the weddings I work with may be fictional, I haven’t just planned a lot of them – I’ve ruined a lot of them too. I’ve written ten books now, so it’s pretty safe to say I’ve considered every possible triumph, every little hiccup and every epic fail my romantic yet devious mind can conjure up.
So, yes, while I have researched flowers, cakes and dresses, and tweaked them accordingly (pockets! Honestly, this is going to be a game changer), I don’t just know what this wedding needs, I know what it doesn’t need too. Obsessing over what flavour frosting to have is rather silly – that’s just the icing on the cake. What you should be worrying about are the things that are out of your control.
I have essentially reverse-engineered every single wedding I’ve ever written, to make sure that my real wedding is perfect. It’s kind of a genius move.
I know for a fact that Daniel’s Auntie Susan and his Auntie Carole hate each other – and I mean hate each other. I also know that Ali would flip out if she knew that Alex, her ex-boyfriend, had been invited to the wedding. But thanks to my choice of venue – and, more specifically, room – they’ll probably never see each other. I know that neither of his aunties likes to dance and I’ve put them at opposite ends of the room, with multiple pillars blocking their view of each other. The same strategy will work for Ali and Alex, although I have had to get a little creative with some balloons to keep him out of her sight. So, he might not have the best view of the speeches, but he’d thank me if he knew it was saving him from having to pick pieces of his jaw out of his salmon. And then it’s only a matter of time. Once Ali has had enough to drink, and my girl drinks, she won’t even recognise him – hell, she’ll probably try and flirt with him.
There’s a knock on the hotel door. I glance over at Ali, who looks back at me expectantly.
‘Erm, can you open it?’ I ask her.
She pulls a face, like a lazy teenager who doesn’t want to tidy their room. You’d never know she was a hugely successful literary agent (although not mine, I hasten to add).
‘I’m in my underwear still,’ I point out.
I’ve had my hair and make-up done, now I’m just waiting for my mum to turn up with my dress. Ali is completely ready; she isn’t going to flash anyone if she answers the door. Although I suspect she might if they were hot.
‘Fine, fine,’ she replies, carefully pulling herself to her feet in her bridesmaid dress. She looks absolutely smoking in the bright red dress she selected for herself to wear today. Her long blonde hair extensions cost more than my mobile phone, but I can’t help but marvel at how real they look. My own real long blonde hair definitely looks real, but not in the way you’d want it to – it’s more like the kind of real where a little sunshine or rain will make it fizz up like a bath bomb, which is why I’ve opted for one sleek-looking fishtail plait today.
During the wedding planning stage there was this whole conversation, involving some of our friends, about whether or not it was appropriate to wear a bright red dress to a wedding – especially if you were a bridesmaid. I just wanted my bridesmaids to be happy and if Ali wanted to wear a red dress, then I wanted her to wear a red dress too. I’m sure I should be in tears, worrying about my wedding aesthetic, or that my friend might upstage me, but I’m not. I’m just happy.
Ali reluctantly opens the door. She lets in my mum and my sister, Mandy. They both look as if they’ve just stepped off a roller coaster.
‘What’s wrong?’ I ask, turning around on my dressing-table stool.
‘Something has happened,’ my mum says solemnly.
‘What?’ I prompt. A dramatic build-up is a plot device, not an appropriate way of delivering bad news in real life.
Mandy steps to one side, to reveal my three-year-old niece, Ruby, standing behind her.
Ruby is my flower girl. She also insisted she wanted an up-do like her mum, so I had her golden blonde curls wrapped around a flower crown. I say ‘had’ because her crown appears to have vanished and her curls look so wild, I don’t know how we tamed them in the first place.
‘Oh, my God,’ I shriek, before placing one hand on my chest and the other over my mouth.
‘Sis, I’m so sorry,’ Mandy starts. ‘I left her in the gardens with June, but I suppose she was too busy swiping on bloody Tinder to keep an eye on her, and she got attacked by a bloody bee!’
‘It was on my head,’ Ruby explains sheepishly.
June is our nineteen-year-old cousin. I don’t think she’s looked up from her iPhone si