Sneak Peek!
Transatlantic Terror Cruise
Book Description:
Nothing says “honeymoon” like stumbling over a dead body. And have I mentioned the ghost?
Cosmopolitan Magazine calls Addison's books, “…easy, frothy fun!”
Chapter 1
The Killer
Two hours from now….
The Whispers of the Wicked podcast gathering fills the lounge with laughter and lies.
Such a perfect audience, a room full of true crime enthusiasts who would soon have a mystery of their own to solve—one that I’m about to hand-deliver.
The irony is almost too good to fathom.
And there he stands in the center of it all, the king of his well-curated kingdom. Holding court, sharing stories about other people’s tragedies while creating fresh ones with each breath. Every smile, every touch, every promise he has ever made has been broken—and they have all led to this delicious moment.
Bile rises in the back of my throat as I watch him work the crowd. His every smile and handshake stoke a rage inside me that has been simmering for months. Each laugh he expels feels personal, as if he’s outright mocking me. Each gesture is a stark reminder of the power he’s wielded over me without mercy. A reminder of all the dreams he’s turned to dust. Not to mention the thought of freedom that he’s dangled like bait, and then yanked away with a cruel, cruel smile.
No more.
It all ends tonight.
He ends tonight.
The party swirls around us as ice clinks in glasses, as incessant laughter floats to the ceiling, as the mindless chatter about other people’s grisly endings titillates the masses.
These true crime groupies are far too distracted to see the true crime coming their way.
A case of a lifetime is about to be gifted right to their feet.
Just a few more minutes of pretending.
A few more moments of being exactly who everyone expects of me, of wearing the mask that’s become second nature.
Then everything changes.
The king of this castle is about to star in the final episode of his own podcast.
And I’m going to make sure it’s a cold case for the ages.
Chapter 2
Trixie
Emerald Queen of the Seas, Royal Lineage Cruise Lines
Transatlantic Cruise
Itinerary
10 Day Cruise
Day One = Departure from Manhattan Cruise Terminal
Day Two = At Sea
Day Three = At Sea
Day Four = At Sea
Day Five = At Sea
Day Six = At Sea
Day Seven = At Sea
Day Eight = At Sea
Day Nine = At Sea
Day Ten = Southampton, England
While Trixie’s Away, the Ship Will Play—The Elodie Edition
Greetings, you yummy little minxes! Elodie Abernathy here (the ship’s resident expert in all things deliciously inappropriate). I’ll be taking over Trixie’s blog while the new Mrs. Baxter is busy with her own personal ship inspection with our hunky head of security. Don’t worry, she’ll be back once she’s thoroughly examined every inch of her honeymoon suite. In the meantime, you’re stuck with me and my expertise in all things nautically naughty.
So please, write in and tell me how I can make your life more delicious.
Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.
I always am.
At least the first time.
XOXO Elodie
Trixie
People think cruise ships are all about leisure, but the real magic happens in those few frantic hours between bon voyage and welcome aboard.
It’s like watching an entire city pack up, move out, restock, clean, and welcome new residents—all while floating on glistening seas. The moment the last passenger waddles down the gangway (still digesting that farewell breakfast buffet), an army of crew members descends on the ship like a highly choreographed SWAT team armed with vacuum cleaners and fresh linens.
While housekeeping performs what can only be described as an all-out sprint through two thousand staterooms, the loading dock transforms into organized chaos. Fresh produce arrives by the truckload—enough to feed a small country or one very determined midnight buffet enthusiast.
The liquor supply gets restocked (because nothing depletes a ship’s rum reserves quite like a conga line of first-time cruisers), mountains of fresh towels appear, and every surface gets sanitized enough to meet surgical standards.
Meanwhile, new passengers begin to stream aboard with enough luggage to sink a battleship—although not this quasi-battleship—all while crew members smile and do their best to pretend they haven’t just turned over an entire floating resort in less time than it takes most people to decide what to eat for breakfast in the morning.
But it’s not morning, it’s late afternoon, and I’m not at the buffet trying to decide between French toast or pancakes—or in my case, both. I’m in one of the ship’s opulent honeymoon suites, and lucky, lucky me, I just so happen to be on my honeymoon as well.
“A little to the right.” I grunt, shifting my weight.
“I’m trying,” Ransom mutters with his breath hot against my ear.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, just stick it in, would you?” I pant, just about losing all of my patience with the man.
“Believe me, I’m giving it one hundred percent, but it doesn’t seem to fit.” He grunts twice as hard, and I can feel his muscles tense.
“I wish Wes were here so he could see this catastrophe firsthand,” I say with a sigh. “I bet he’d be livid.”
“Well, he is the captain. Everything that goes wrong on this ship is technically his fault,” Ransom growls out the words regarding his quasi-nemesis. “Trixie, I think we need to give up.” He blows out a hard breath. “This is clearly a lost cause. I wish we would have known what we were getting into from the beginning. I would have never agreed to any of this.”
“You and me both. What a disappointment.”
“Hey”—he pulls me close and nuzzles my neck as his five o’clock shadow tickles my skin. “Don’t let this disappoint you. We’ll have fun blaming Wes together. Just remember our motto, anything that goes wrong in this stateroom is all his fault. After all, he’s the one who gifted it to us.”
A dark laugh rumbles through the both of us as we stare up at the broken curtain rod.
It fell down with a crash last night—during the first night of our honeymoon and we promptly ignored it. But as morning came, far too much daylight poured into our cabin and we promptly ignored that, too. After all, we had much more important things to tend to—like each other.
And, oh my word, I always knew that Ransom was a beast when it came to justice, but now I know without a doubt that he’s twice the beast in the bedroom. It’s safe to say he’s also brought justice to the rumors of his sexual prowess, and he’s made sure to right all the wrongs I’ve ever had behind closed doors.
But I digress. Ransom and I squint at the window as the late afternoon sun reflects off the endless expanse of ocean, turning our honeymoon suite into a spotlight-drenched stage. The salt-tinged breeze sneaks through the open gap of the sliding door, carrying with it the distant sounds of passengers already enjoying their vacation.
Ransom and I started our honeymoon last night as the leaf peeping tour up the Eastern Seaboard ended, and this cruise, the transatlantic adventure, began (both occurring within hours of each other) and we’ve yet to leave our cabin.
My eyes flit back to that window where I stare up at the orange glowing sky. “But I swear I saw someone,” I insist, squinting against the glare. “There was a woman, peering right in.”
It’s true. Right in the middle of getting hot and heavy with my new husband, I happened to open my eyes in that direction and spotted what I thought was a redhead peering in at us.
The horror! I’ve never been more mortified in my life.
Ransom’s hands slide down to my waist as he turns me to face him. His touch leaves a trail of warmth that makes me forget about any mysterious redheaded peeping Toms.
“It’s impossible,” he says just above a whisper as we snuggle close underneath the sheets. “Unless she sprouted wings or learned to walk on water. We’re facing the open sea.”
“I know, that’s what’s so strange. Maybe she’s a mermaid?” I tease, running my fingers along his chest. Before we met, Ransom had quite the reputation as a ladies’ man. And now? Well, let’s just say I’m the only lady in his orbit. “Heaven knows that all the females on dry land aren’t happy that you’re off the market. I’d venture to guess the girls below the waterline aren’t too thrilled either.”
“A mermaid?” A gentle laugh rumbles from his chest to mine. “I don’t think you need to be worried about competition from on land or the sea.”
“Good,” I say, dotting his lips with a kiss. “Because I don’t like to share my toys.”
Ransom growls out a laugh as he runs heated kisses up and down my neck, garnering a growl of a laugh from me, too.
The Emerald Queen of the Seas set sail yesterday for a ten-day transatlantic cruise.
Ten glorious days I plan to spend right here in this deluxe honeymoon suite with my shiny, new, far too delicious husband. Nothing but room service, ocean views, and Ransom Courtland Baxter on an endless loop.
The thought makes me giddy—or maybe that’s just the gentle roll of the ship beneath us. Most likely both.
I lean back to admire him—tall, jet-black hair, with a body that could turn any and every saint into a sinner. And those blue eyes of his are enough to make all the cobalt on the planet green with envy. But boy, how they have the power to melt me. Every ounce of Ransom has the power to do just that.
“You’re staring again,” he murmurs, nuzzling his kisses up toward my ear.
“Can you blame me? I did just marry the most eligible bachelor on the high seas.” I trace a finger down his chest once again. “Although I suppose you’re not eligible anymore.”
“Oh honey.” A low growl of a laugh emits from him. “I haven’t been on the eligible list since the day I met you,” he says, and my heart does a little flip.
Even after all this time, he still has that effect on me. And I don’t see that stopping anytime soon.
It’s still surreal how we got here. A year ago, I was just another jilted wife who escaped to the high seas after catching my ex in a compromising position—or three. Come to think of it, there were probably more. Now I’m living my second chance at happily ever after, complete with three of the best friends a girl could ask for who just so happen to live on this ship as well. Sure, there were a few bumps along the way—including the fact the captain, our good friend Wes, had thrown his hat into the romantic ring—but my heart knew where it belonged.
A glint from the sun catches my wedding ring and sends rainbow prisms glittering across the walls. I’m still getting used to the weight of it, the way it catches the light, and the heartfelt promise it represents.
“Have I mentioned how beautiful you look in the morning?” Ransom’s voice drops to a lower register, which makes my knees weak. “And in the late afternoon? And I can’t forget the evening.”
A round of giggles bubbles from me. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”
“Is that so, Mrs. Baxter?” His lips find that tender spot below my ear. “Nothing is going to tear me away from you,” he murmurs, and my toes curl just hearing it.
The scent of his cologne mingles with the ocean breeze, and just like that, I forget about the broken curtain rod entirely when an ornery chirp that sounds like a woodpecker cuts through the silence—aka his phone.
Ransom pauses for a moment and I can feel his muscles tense against me before he resumes his attention right where it belongs—on my neck.
The phone trills again—or pecks for that matter—and this time it sounds twice as insistent as it was before.
His arm moves back and I do my best to reel it in.
“Don’t,” I warn as his body tenses once again. “Whatever it is, it can’t be important.”
“I’m sure it’s not.” He winces. “But that’s the security desk trying to get ahold of me. It’s the only one I’ve dedicated that annoying sound to.”
“I guess if duty calls.” A heavy sigh escapes me as I pat his chest. “I bet it’s Quinn asking where you put the stapler.”
Quinn Riddle is Ransom’s counterpart down in vessel security, the exact counterpart who solemnly vowed to take care of the ship while we were on our honeymoon.
She also happens to have the hots for Ransom, and so help me, if she’s trying to sabotage my honeymoon—or more to the point, so help her. I would like to think she wouldn’t dare, but honestly, I don’t think it’s beneath her either.
The phone chirps again, and for reasons unknown, it manages to sound more urgent this time, so he scoops it up in haste.
Ransom glances at the screen and his expression shifts ever so slightly—and I have a feeling that subtle change means duty is about to win over desire.
“Let me guess,” I sigh. “Something is about to tear you away from me.”
He lands a kiss to my forehead. “I’m quickly learning you are always right.”
“Okay, I’m resigned to the fact you have to go, but just promise me you’ll come back in one piece.”
“I’ll do my best.” He flexes a dry smile. “I love you, Mrs. Baxter.”
“I love you, too.” I give him a kiss and it’s long, hot, and lingering. “Even if you did marry me under false pretenses regarding your curtain-hanging abilities.”
“If I hung those curtains, I can assure you they wouldn’t have fallen down to begin with.” He lands another heated kiss to my lips before pulling back and frowning at his phone. “Tell you what—I’ll make it up to you with room service when I get back. The works. How does breakfast for dinner sound? Chocolate chip pancakes, extra bacon—”
“Now you’re just trying to butter me up.” I try to peek at his phone screen, but he’s already replaced it on the nightstand.
“Is it working?”
“Almost. You will make it up to me,” I tease, running my fingers through his thick hair. “But it won’t be by way of a breakfast buffet. Perhaps a buffet of another variety. Although you’re not off the hook for those chocolate chip pancakes either. I’m a sucker for breakfast for dinner.”
“Another reason we’re a perfect fit.” He kisses me once again—quick, but thorough enough to make me wish we could ignore that phone completely, or toss it into the sea. Maybe that redheaded mermaid needs to make a call?
“Save my spot?” he murmurs hot into my ear.
“Always.” I watch as he pulls back, already shifting from honeymoon mode to the head of vessel security.
“Hey, if you want, why don’t you run around the ship?” he offers. “See the new blood on board, maybe catch up with Bess and Nettie?”
I nod at the thought. “Maybe I will.”
“Good.” He lands another kiss to my cheek. “Try not to let any major catastrophes get in the way of some fun.”
“Major catastrophes?” I tease, shooting him a look for even going there. “Like running out of room on my plate after I hit the mac and cheese at the buffet?”
We both know what kinds of catastrophes I specialize in, and they have less to do with cheese-riddled carbohydrates and more to do with murder.
His phone chirps again, and this time he shakes his head as he stares at the screen.
“Ransom, what is it?” I gasp.
“It’s Quinn. She’s in trouble.”
***I hope you enjoyed this preview! Thank you for reading!****