Murder in the Hidden Cargo Hold

🚢 Murder, Mystery, and Mischief at Sea! 🐾

Cruise ship photographer Olivia Ocean thought her new job aboard the luxurious Moonlit Majesty would be smooth sailing—until she catches someone trying to toss a tiny kitten overboard. Her daring rescue of the furball (soon christened Pickle) doesn’t just save whiskers—it lands her smack in the middle of a deadly crime scene in the ship’s hidden cargo hold.

Now, armed with her camera, a clue-sniffing cat, and an inconvenient knack for stumbling into trouble, Olivia must navigate glittering ballrooms, secret crew-only passages, and buffets with suspiciously good cheesecake. Teaming up with the ship’s mysteriously handsome security officer, she’s determined to catch a killer before the next port of call—or at least before Pickle chews through another camera strap.

✨ If you enjoy these tropes, this cozy mystery is for you:

• 🐱 Adorable animal sidekick (Pickle the kitten steals every scene)
• 📸 Quirky amateur sleuth with a camera instead of a magnifying glass
• ❤️ Slow-burn sparks with a swoon-worthy security officer
• 🚢 A glamorous cruise ship = the perfect “locked-room at sea” setting
• 🍰 Humor, hijinks, and a buffet full of red herrings (and cheesecake)
• 🕵️ Whodunit fun with no gore, bad language, or graphic violence

If you love cozy mysteries with witty heroines, quirky sidekicks, laugh-out-loud banter, and tropical cruise ship vibes, you’ll be hooked by Murder in the Hidden Cargo Hold—the first delightful whodunit in the Olivia Ocean Cruise Ship Mysteries.

Find the eBook, paperback, and large print paperback at Books2Read.com/cargohold

Excerpt from Chapter One:

I stepped up to the crew check-in tent with an equal mix of excitement and trepidation. From all Gran had told me about working on cruise ships, I practically felt as though I had worked on several myself, and yet, at each new step in the process, I was reminded of how out of my depth I was about to be.

“Olivia Ocean,” I said, passing over the dozen papers I had printed and filled out at home.

“Where are your medical papers?” the gruff man with a thick German accent asked me from behind his table. I felt like I was being accused of treason.

“Medical papers?” I asked, looking through my empty file folder as though it may produce the information he was looking for of its own accord.

“You did not stop at the medical check-in desk?” He pointed to another tent a half a mile down the dock.

I recalled now reading something online about a medical check-in. It wasn’t like me to be so scatterbrained. I spent years being on top of my grandparents’ needs and medications but I guess a part of me had finally started to relax. Now I only had to take care of myself.

“I’m so sorry,” I told the man, already stepping away and hauling my backpack and suitcase down the uneven dock.

On Take Two of check in, he was slightly friendlier, but still, this was certainly not the welcome I had expected to onboard life after everything Gran had told me. She’d chattered on for years about how her ship family had been like a real family to her during her twenties. If anyone needed a family, it was me. Now that Gran was gone, I had no one. I had to hope the dock staff were the only ones short on friendliness and patience.

When I was finally handed a key card and cleared for boarding, I pulled my suitcase behind me up the ramp that led onto the ship. It was a different entrance than passengers used, and again, for all the glitz and glamor Gran had spoken of, I couldn’t quite see it as I took my first step aboard what would become my home for the next nine months.

Crew rushed past through the wide open, sterile-looking hallway as I tried to keep myself and my luggage out of their way. I glued myself to the hallway’s edge as I looked at my key card in search of the cabin number I would be staying in. It would be nice to store my luggage sooner rather than later.

As one girl moved toward me a little slower than the rest, I held up a hand, hoping she would spare me a second.

“Excuse me! Do you know where I can find room A1070?”

The girl was Filipino and looked to be in her early twenties. She stopped and a bright smile emerged on her face. “First day?” At my nod, she rattled off sentences in quick succession. “We’re on Deck 1. Deck’s A, B, and C are below us. Deck A is a great deck. Lots of rooms even have their own bathroom!” she said as if this was extremely surprising. “Elevators and stairs are forward, aft, and mid ship.” She pointed. “Don’t forget your safety training on Deck C and welcome aboard the Moonlit Majesty!”

With that, she was gone.

I was glad for the reminder about the safety meeting and the quick overview of the ship configuration, but I wished I had gotten her name.

As soon as I saw a break in the foot traffic, I picked up my pace and joined the fast-moving crew members toward where the girl had pointed for an elevator. It turned out, on the rare opportunity that one opened, all three of the crew elevators were stuffed with both crew members and supplies.

Deck A was only one floor down. My suitcase wasn’t light, but surely I could lug it down one flight of stairs.

Over the last eight months, I had spent numerous hours in and out of hospitals with my Gran. I had come to love the nurses, who were always enormously helpful with getting Gran in and out of her wheelchair or up onto beds for tests. As I hauled my heavy suitcase down step after step while people whisked by me without so much as an offer to help, I began to realize how completely alone I was here.

Everyone had a job, and clearly nobody’s job was helping me get my luggage to my room.

There wasn’t a lot of signage, and I ended up going a fair ways in the wrong direction before finally finding my room all the way at the front of the ship. Or, Forward, as the girl had described it.

I slipped my key card into its slot, excited for my first glimpse of where I would be living for the next nine months, but as I opened the door, my eyes widened. I double-checked the number on the door plate. It was correct. What I saw couldn’t be a cabin for living inside, could it? There were two bunk beds in front of me, but otherwise the room looked no bigger than my closet at Gran’s house.

The hallway behind me was only slightly wider than the cabin so when someone tried to move a tray table behind me, I quickly lugged my suitcase over the threshold out of his way.

When the door shut behind me, I took in the messy bottom bunk and the empty upper one. There were dozens of photos taped above the wall of a minuscule desk and a door to my left opened to what the young Filipino girl had considered an impressive private bathroom.

In truth, a person could shower and use the toilet at the same time.

This was it. This was my home for the next nine months.