Six Records Of A Floating Life

In this canal town, if a guy wants to woo his sweetheart, he needs to build a boat with his own hands and make it his wedding boat. On my seventh year dating anniversary, my boyfriend, Declan Johnson, hosts a launch ceremony for his new boat. Those who are present at the ceremony cheer loudly. I can feel my heart beating wildly in my chest. When I'm about to board the boat, I hear Declan's friend murmuring to him, "Are you seriously giving the boat to Paige? Aren't you worried that Raelynn might pick a fight with you?" "Precisely! Raelynn is a temperamental one! What if you crossed a line?" The next moment, Declan's voice rings out—casual yet confident. "No way. Raelynn is completely wrapped around my finger. After all, she's madly in love with me. Besides, in this town, the fact that a woman doesn't get married by the age of 28 makes her a hag. There's no way she has the guts to start anything. "At the end of the day, I'm giving Raelynn a marriage certificate and Paige a wedding boat. This is a fair decision. In a way, it… it helps me to put an old regret to rest." So, Declan still has regrets just by marrying me, huh? Apparently, I'm also wrapped around his finger, and I'll become a hag soon. Those words hurt my ears. My throat closes up slightly, but I don't cry at all. Instead, I pull out my phone and send a text. "I'll listen to you, Mom. Since I'm already 28 years old, I'm no longer waiting for him."

My body drifted in the river for five years before a fishing enthusiast reeled it in. Even though the forensic pathologist managed to reconstruct my face from when I was alive through craniofacial reconstruction technology, the hatred my brother had for me remained as strong as ever. "That better be her body! She has been on the run for five years! Even in death, she doesn't deserve pity! In fact, it simply is a disgrace to have a murderer like her as the daughter of the Clarke family!" he hissed. Everyone thought he despised me with every fiber of his being. Yet, as he spoke, his entire body trembled. Who would have guessed that the distress call I made to him five years ago would end up becoming the main factor that hastened my death?

In our lakeside town, if a woman wanted to marry the love of her life, she must personally build a wooden rowboat to serve as her wedding vessel. On the exact day of our seventh anniversary, my girlfriend, Sarah Granger, held the launch ceremony for her newly finished boat. The crowd cheered as they witnessed the moment, and my heart pounded furiously against my ribs. However, just as I was about to board the boat, I caught the hushed whispers of her best friends. “Are you really giving this boat to Logan? Aren’t you afraid Austin will throw a fit?" “Yeah, Austin can be pretty sensitive. Be careful not to push him too far.” The next second, Sarah’s casual voice rang out, filled with absolute certainty. “He won’t. Austin is the easiest guy to appease. He’s completely head over heels for me. Besides, around these parts, if a guy isn’t married by twenty-eight, everyone starts looking at him like a pathetic bachelor. He wouldn’t dare make a scene. Think about it: the marriage certificate goes to Austin, and the wedding vessel goes to Logan. It’s totally fair. Plus, it… makes up for my regrets.” So, agreeing to get legally married to me was a regret for her? Easy to appease? Pathetic bachelor? Those words hurt my ears, and I started to choke up, but I didn’t cry. Instead, I pulled out my phone and sent a single text message. [Mom, I’m taking your advice. I’m twenty-eight now, and I’m not waiting around anymore.]

After the cruise ship strikes a hidden reef, panicked passengers shove me and Kristen Langford into the sea. My boyfriend, Elijah Jensen, is the ship's captain, so he plunges into the water. But instead of saving me, he grabs Kristen and boards the last lifeboat. I thrash and cry for help, but he slaps my hand away. "You can swim. Stop pretending for attention!" Elijah snaps. "Kristen's body temperature is dropping. I have to get her to a hospital!" The waters around me are pitch-black, and his words feel like a death sentence. When the tracking bracelet I always wear is discovered inside a shark, Elijah dives alone into shark-infested waters, searching for three days and nights. In the end, the brilliant captain who once ruled the oceans can never sail again.

Maeve Sinclair learned the hard way that love can be the cruelest of prisons. After years of running from her traumatic past and the three men who never stopped loving her, she is kidnapped and wakes up tied up in a presidential suite on a luxurious cruise ship at sea. Her captors? The same ones she tried to forget: Zion Brooks — the famous singer with a seductive voice and explosive temper, who hides a dark side, part of the mafia underworld. Luka Rhodes — the brilliant music producer who hides a dangerous life in the Irish mafia alongside Declan Callahan. Elias Voss — the ex-military man and boxer, silent, lethal, and obsessively protective. Trapped together for seven nights in the middle of the Caribbean, the three are willing to do anything to break down the walls Maeve has built around her heart. They feed her, protect her, tease her… and tie her up when necessary. Because for them, Maeve had always belonged to them — from that unforgettable night on the beach, from the conception of Matthew, the eleven-year-old son she raised alone while hiding secrets capable of destroying them all. Between luxury, forbidden desire, and suffocating possessiveness, Maeve fights against her own body and against the unhealthy love she feels for them. But the more she resists, the closer the three get to truths she swore to take to the grave: the abuse from her father that still haunts her, the depression that almost destroyed her as a mother, and the paralyzing fear that her love is poison to everyone around her. On a cruise where there is no escape, Maeve discovers that the real prison was never the silk ropes… It was their love.

I am the youngest daughter of the King of the Sea, the most beloved little mermaid princess. The man I married is the world's most brilliant marine biologist. He has a childhood sweetheart who grew up with him, a woman who knows everything about extracting ocean toxins. The two of them, her brewing poisons and him developing antidotes, spent over a decade happily doing research together. Until the day she injected that toxin into my body. I nearly died. When I came to, he was sitting at my bedside writing up a treatment plan. "Don't be mad at Vicky," he said, still writing, his voice impossibly gentle. "She's just immature. She didn't mean to hurt you." "She knows I can save you. She just wanted to get a rise out of me." The moment those words left his mouth, one of Vicky's people came to call for him. After he left, I looked down at the treatment plan. He had left out one key ingredient. He'd been in too much of a hurry. He hadn't even noticed. That was when the sprite, silent for so long, finally stirred. The glowing pearl that had traveled with me for over twenty years drifted out from my collar, floating lazily in a slow circle. "Your Highness, once your human-form energy is depleted on land, your soul will return to the sea, and you'll never be able to come ashore again. This treatment plan is missing deep-sea spirulina extract. Following it will drain your energy even faster. The choice is yours." I stared at that line for a long time. Then I passed the treatment plan to the caretaker and smiled. "Let's go with this."