As a young woman, I’ve always been impressed with people who could survive in the wild. I wrote a book report about Robinson Crusoe, and saw the movie Swiss Family Robinson. Later, I saw the movie Castaway with Tom Hanks, watched the show Lost and became lost. I also became addicted to the show Survivors. I went as far as planning my family’s dinner hour around the show, lol.
But I kept thinking, could two strangers survive on a deserted island. And if they did survive could they fall in love?
I did research on the Bahamian islands. Finding out how much wet rainy weather they have, I thought they must have a lot of windswept shores there.
And Windswept Shores was born…
The sole survivor of a plane crash, Megan is alone on a deserted island in the Bahamas. Then she finds a nearly-drowned man. Another survivor, this time from a boat wreck.
With only meager survival skill between them, will they survive these windswept shores and can they find love?
From WINDSWEPT SHORES by Janice Seagraves
She got an idea of what he attempted. No, that’s crazy. You can’t do that with a boat. Picking herself off the sand, she looked around. What is he aiming for?
Then Megan saw the stream that usually piddled out into the sand. It drained from the waterfall pool, just above her campsite. The stream went past the cliff, then across the beach to empty into the ocean. With the recent storms, it chuckled happily, deep and full. It had even washed out the log she used for a bridge.
“Seth. Don’t. It won’t. Work,” Megan shouted as she waved her arms. “You’ll crash the boat.”
Then she saw what Seth waited so patiently for, the mother of all waves. Its huge, dark shape blocked out the horizon. He turned forward and did something to the gears, then waved her out of the way.
“It. Won’t. Work,” she shouted again.
He waved again, but looked back. The wave kept rising; it lifted the boat.
Was it a tsunami?
Megan eyes got big as she swallowed hard. “Oh, hell, what do I know? Maybe you can surf a fishing boat.”
I’ve got to get out of here. Those waves will break me apart like kindling. She took to her heels, down the beach then up a path to higher ground. Grabbing a branch, she climbed a stout tree and clung to it for dear life. I should be safe here and have a nice view of whatever Seth has in mind.
From her vantage point, Megan watched the wave swell, towering behind the boat until it looked small against the dark water. When the wave surged forward, Seth jammed the gears. Smoke poured out of the boat, thicker than before, as the boat rode the wave’s crest toward the beach.
She watched wide-eyed, fixed on the wave which made a thunderous crash. Water flowed up and down the beach, wetting Megan, still clinging to the tree. The boat catapulted onto the sand, sliding up the stream bed. Seth guided the old fishing boat with the force of the wave, coasted it next to her campsite just as if he was bringing it into its home slip at a marina.
Running and laughing, Megan headed back down the beach, splashing through the retreating water. “You did it! You did it! You big crazy, Aussie.”
Janice Seagraves’s website: http://janiceseagraves.org/