Is 'Only One Survives The Ocean' Based On A True Story?

Three days after his first love Mandy's death, my husband locked me in a steel cage and sank me into the ocean. "You vicious woman," he spat. "Stay here and repent to Mandy!" He didn't know I carried his child. I thrust the pregnancy confirmation toward him, but he walked away without a backward glance. Yet when he later saw my corpse—bloated and decomposing in the seawater—he went insane.

After narrowly escaping death, I ran into the son I hadn't seen in years. He was taller now, and the cold disgust that used to fill his eyes was replaced by regret and desperate longing. He looked cautiously at me as he said, "Mom, I miss your home-cooked meals so much." I ignored him, haggling heatedly with a seller at the farmer's market. He bent down to pick up two onions that had dropped from my grocery bag. "If you were alive, why didn't you come back? Dad said the past is in the past. He forgives you." I let out an irritated click of my tongue, slapped two bills on the counter, and walked off. Suddenly, he yanked the hem of my shirt tightly. "Mom, are you abandoning us? Are you giving up on our family?" I didn't answer. Hearing him say "Mom" was utterly grating to my ears. The moment they chose to save that other woman and leave me during that shipwreck, every last shred of my feelings for them had vanished.

Three hours after my engagement banquet ended, I was stuffed into a burlap sack and thrown straight into the ocean. By the time deep-sea divers found me, my body had swollen into something grotesque and barely recognizable. The police called my fiancé right away to come identify the remains, but he could not have sounded less interested. "So, she's dead. So what? I'll show up at the funeral when the time comes." Left with no choice, the police dialed the second starred contact in my phone. It was my own brother. He laughed so hard that he doubled over. "Dead? Last I checked, it's not April Fools'. Not a funny joke. And do me a favor. Tell Selene Corvin I couldn't care less about her corpse. Throw it back in the ocean to feed the fish. I don't care." He did not know that I did end up as fish food for a very long time. The moment my remains appeared on that massive screen, however, both my fiancé and my brother lost their minds.

Not long after getting married to my husband, he says he wants to teach me how to scuba dive. My leg cramps when I'm practicing alone in the deep sea. However, my husband, a swimming instructor, chooses to save his unattainable love—she's jumped into the sea to commit suicide. I don't ask him for help. Instead, I allow myself to slowly sink. In my past life, I stopped my husband from leaving. He saved me with gnashed teeth and allowed his first love, Millie Quirke, to drown. By the time he went to save her, she'd already disappeared in the water. He comforted me and told me it was okay, that he was glad he'd saved me. However, one night, he brought me back to the seaside. Just as I let my guard down, he grabbed my neck and plunged my face into the water. Then, he dragged me out before I could suffocate. "You were just cramping—it would've passed! But Millie got dragged away by the current because of you! You can remain in the ocean with her!" When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the day I was scuba diving.

Robert Blackwell promised to marry me, then postponed it thirty-eight times. The fifth time, a car crash broke eight of his ribs, and I signed seven critical-condition notices. The tenth time, on the way to get our marriage license, he and the car were thrown into the sea, and his suit was torn apart by sharks. By the thirty-eighth time, his heart disease had worsened and his life was hanging by a thread. Eight months pregnant, I changed flights three times and flew twenty-three hours across half the world to find him. When the door opened, a little boy who looked exactly like him lifted his face and said, "I thought Mom was back." Robert rushed out barefoot, panic written all over his face. I turned around and saw my best friend of twelve years standing behind me with a key in her hand. The little boy ran to her and threw himself into her arms, calling her Mom. So the fiance I had waited seven years for was my best friend's secret husband all along. "I will not wait through these thirty-eight near-death weddings anymore." "Robert, I do not want you either."

Morgan is just trying to survive her cousin’s destination wedding in Bermuda. She didn’t come prepared for emotional damage, and she certainly didn't expect the biggest drama of the weekend to involve a head injury, a blocked tunnel, and a very confusing run-in with three dudes dressed like they raided a Pirates of the Caribbean casting call. Turns out they’re not LARPing. They aren't actors. It's not a fun sunset cruise. No. They’re privateers. Like, real ones. From the actual year 1725. And Morgan? She’s stuck. She may have a pretty good handle on how to survive in the wilderness, thanks to her ex-Green Beret dad. But eighteenth-century ships, sexist crewmates, and suspicious captains aren’t exactly her area of expertise. Especially not Flynn, the broody, grumpy, maddeningly handsome Captain who might rather toss her overboard than deal with whatever disaster she’s brought onto his ship. But as danger closes in, from rival ships to secrets Morgan didn’t mean to bring with her, she’ll have to find her place in this brutal new world. That is… if she doesn’t drive Flynn to keelhauling her first. Or fall for him. Maybe both. Adventure, slow-burn tension, and fish-out-of-water chaos collide in this swoony, high-stakes romantic tale across time. For fans of enemies-to-lovers, pirate drama, and heroines who don’t know when to shut the fuck up.