You get lemons; you make lemonade, right? That was my plan when I packed everything I owned and headed for a new life in New York City. And then it went to hell. First, my belongings didn't survive the move, and everything I touched seemed to break. My new job wouldn't be so bad if my coworkers wanted anything to do with me. And my boss? He hates me. I was ready to quit, throw in the towel, and make my way back to Houston. But then I got an invitation I couldn't refuse. An all-expenses-paid weekend in the Hamptons. The only catch. I have to pretend to be the girlfriend of my boss's best friend at a Christmas Eve wedding. What could possibly go wrong?