Captivating Teaser Chapters to Whet Your Appetite…

Chapter 1 -If Only I Had Shagged My Way to Fiji

What kind of idiot turns down the opportunity to quit their desk job and join the crew of a fifty-foot sailboat? I mean, who would say no to a once in a lifetime chance to sail from England to Fiji with a much older, incredibly charming and handsome skipper they hardly know? That idiot would be me!

At 24, I was ridiculously self-important. I somehow convinced myself I had too many responsibilities. A career, house, mortgage and student loans. I couldn’t just get on some bloke’s boat and sail off to Fiji. Besides, having demolished a polycule of relationships since university, I was dabbling with the idea of being a feminist. It was super trendy at the time. My friends were embarking excitedly into marriage and starting families. I considered being an independent feminist way cooler and a far more realistic option for someone like me. I fancied myself as a double-agent type feminist who masqueraded as a bimbo but was secretly a ruthless businesswoman who always found a way to get what she wanted.

I was fairly new to sailing back then. I had loved sailing when I was a kid and began sailing dinghies at university and racing speedy brightly colored 16 foot catamarans at Eastbourne Sailing Club at the weekends when I started work. I managed to score a side gig crewing for corporate events on a 60 foot yacht with the aforementioned hunky skipper. I loved being on the water but floating about in a tropical paradise with a handsome captain was a fantasy I wasn’t brave enough to make real at the time.   I realized of course that my novice sailing skills had not afforded me the invitation to Fiji. I knew I would have to shag my way across the oceans to earn my spot as a first mate. But I was sorely tempted nonetheless and have always regretted not saying yes.  

If I’m completely honest, it wasn’t the shagging that put me off the adventure. It was the cooking. I’ve always hated cooking, which further incentivized my drive to be a feminist. So, I turned him down and for the next 20-something years, promised myself that one day I would sail across the ocean on my own terms and on my own two feet, rather than on my back.

Chapter 6 – HE MADE ME DO IT!

It has been a monumental week! It was Valentine’s Day this week and yet the whole reason this week was so liberating was I feel I am really starting to break free. No more worrying about finding crew for my adventure or other silly romantic fluff like escaping the unlucky in love pile or settling down.

It all started with a stupendous run in at work with my useless boss and the annoyingly good-looking CEO. I was summoned to the boardroom to be admonished for my failure to implement a new technology portal with my team. In a launch meeting the previous month, I had received instructions on how to implement the new portal. I was horrified by how basic and unimpressive it was compared to our competitors’. I whittled my feedback down to try to be constructive and had a few tweaks in mind that would improve the functionality and client experience and help the portal’s chances of succeeding. It was like banging my head against a brick wall. I tried once or twice to get a word in but was quickly shut down. I left the meeting and although I hadn’t said a word the expression, “Fuck you…this is my business unit, I’ll decide if we implement your shitty portal,” was apparently written all over my face. 

Four weeks passed and I tried to meet with the implementation team to discuss my ideas. Twice. To no avail. I had not lifted a finger to implement the portal and so it was now time for my bollocking. My boss could not wait to read out the charges in front of the CEO and a selection of big cheeses from I.T. He concluded his rant with, “Kerry has once again shown that her insubordination and stubbornness traits have not been addressed.”

I buried my head and started Googling the dictionary on my phone while waiting to see what would happen next. The CEO looked over and was furious to see me playing on my phone.

“Kerry!” He barked, “What do you have to say?”

“Sorry,” I replied and left a pregnant pause, “I was just looking up what insubordination means, but thank you for asking what I have to say.”

His hands hit the table with a thud. He glared his sparkly blue-eyes at me. “This had better be good!”

I continued, “Honestly, this is the first time anyone has actually asked me why I haven’t rolled out the crappy portal?”

Yes, I said crappy portal, and I think I heard someone actually gasp at the back of the room.

I briefly explained my concerns about the competition and the client perceptions and that I had come up with small tweaks that would go a long way to addressing the issues.

“I tried multiple times to get this across but was bulldozed out of the way. So, I decided to sit on it and see if I might finally get to share my ideas when the shit hit the fan. Obviously, I wasn’t expecting that would be in front of the C-suite.”

I suspect the dishy CEO secretly enjoyed my candor and inappropriate language. He rolled his gorgeous eyes, swept his hand through his thick and shiny salt and pepper hair and shook his head. “I think you’ve nailed it. The very definition of insubordination,” he smirked. “Send me your ideas, Kerry.” He closed his notebook. “Let’s leave it there shall we.”

My boss was furious. I almost expected his head to blow off so the steam could come out as his bowtie whizzed around like a clown. I got up and headed to the elevator as quickly as possible. I was trembling, my heart was racing, and I needed some fresh air. My idiot boss was trying to get me fired. What a complete fucker!

I tripped, fleeing the elevator and bolting towards the door, into the freezing cold afternoon, wearing only a short skirt and low-cut blouse.

Eventually I stopped shaking and started shivering. It was only 3pm but I’d had enough. I went up to my expansive corner office, collected my car keys and went home.

Driving home, I swerved into the parking lot outside my friend Julie’s gorgeous boutique.

“Good day at the office darling?” she quizzed rhetorically. I often ended up at Julie’s Boutique after work for some retail therapy.

“I’ve been saving this little beauty for you for a gloomy day” she smirked and enticed me into buying a beautiful sparkling tennis bracelet to cheer myself up.

I had a running joke with friends on Facebook that every time my boss pissed me off at work, I would buy myself something pretty. Flowers, a new lipstick, a fancy bottle of wine, a new low-cut top. I posted a beautifully staged photo of the bracelet on my wrist (I’ve always thought my wrists are my best feature as they never get fat!) and added the caption. “Today was a real doozy! I need to do something else with my life. This is getting expensive.”

The Facebook algorithms jumped into action. I got bombarded with videos of crazy people in huge sailboats surfing down enormous waves in the Southern Ocean, being covered in freezing spray and cheering and shouting out their maximum speeds from behind the helm.

I clicked the link and found myself filling in the questionnaire: Do you think you’ve got what it takes to Race Around The World?

Maybe?

There was no Maybe button.

I clicked Yes and that’s how I found myself applying for the Clipper Round The World Race.

Chapter 21 – Finally Sailing Fast

Finally, we are tipping up!  Core engaged 24 hours a day, even when asleep you are wedging yourself into a stable position with tensed-up tummy muscles. I have no idea how I slept but I definitely slept.  When the first squalls came in everything started flying out of bunks and unsuitable storage spots.  There were rubber crocs, boots and flip flops everywhere like some kind of weird swinger’s party where you throw your shoes into the bowl instead of your keys.  Of course, this wouldn’t work as an actual swinger concept, let’s face it, who’s going home with the guy with small feet who wears Crocs.  

I hadn’t been using our lee-cloths consistently until now.  They are a bloody good way of keeping you inside your bunk when the boat is healed over or you tack suddenly. It was so hot below and my bum was stinging from yachty-botty AKA nappy rash.  I had developed a system of putting a wet sarong up as a curtain across my bunk and sleeping naked on my tummy with USB charged fans blowing the sudacream on my sore butt, providing relief through the hot sticky nights off watch. I learned the hard way the value of good bunk discipline when I woke up flying out of my bunk and landing on my belly with my arse in the air with a thud.  Luckily for me the mattress came with me and I had only fallen two feet from the bottom bunk.  

I got the giggles imagining what I looked like sitting naked, covering up my bits, in a pile of bunk debris and Crocs.  I could hardly climb back into my bunk for laughing.  Luckily the only witness was Doeke, who was sitting in the saloon having a drink of water and hiding from the heat on watch.  He laughed quietly so as not to wake up others and gave me a thumbs up!…