Cheryl Bradshaw Series Reading Order
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About this ebook
Updated for 2024, this is the complete series reading order for New York Times and USA Today bestselling mystery/thriller author Cheryl Bradshaw.
The set includes the series order and first chapters of:
Georgiana Germaine Series (Mystery/Thriller)
Sloane Monroe Series (Mystery/Thriller)
Deadly Sins Series (Mystery/Thriller) Sloane Monroe Spinoff Series
Sloane & Maddie, Peril Awaits (Mystery/Thriller) Sloane Monroe Spinoff Series
Addison Lockhart Series (Ghost/Supernatural Suspense Mystery)
+ Stand-Alone Novels
Cheryl Bradshaw
Cheryl Bradshaw is a New York Times and 11-time USA Today bestselling author writing in multiple genres, including mystery, thriller, romantic suspense, supernatural suspense, and poetry. She is a Shamus Award finalist for best private eye novel of the year, an eFestival of Words winner for best thriller, and has published over fifty books since 2011. When she's not writing, Cheryl loves jet-setting to new countries, playing with her grandkiddos, high tea, and pursuing a wishful side career as a professional food tester of wine and cheese.
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Cheryl Bradshaw Series Reading Order - Cheryl Bradshaw
SERIES READING ORDER
CHERYL BRADSHAW
These books excerpts are works of fiction. Names, characters, places, businesses, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events or locales or to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of these book excerpts may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any print or electronic form without the written consent of the author.
Copyright © 2011-2023 by Cheryl Bradshaw
All rights reserved.
CONTENTS
Georgiana Germaine Mystery Series Reading Order
Little Girl Lost
Little Lost Secrets
Little Broken Things
Little White Lies
Little Tangled Webs
Little Shattered Dreams
Little Last Words
Little Buried Secrets
Little Stolen Memories
Little Empty Promises
Sloane Monroe Mystery Series Reading Order
Black Diamond Death
Murder In Mind
I Have A Secret
Stranger In Town
Bed Of Bones
Flirting With Danger
Hush Now Baby
Dead Of Night
Gone Daddy Gone
Smoke & Mirrors
Deadly Sins: Sloane Monroe Novella Series Reading Order
Deadly Sins: Sloth
Deadly Sins: Wrath
Deadly Sins: Lust
Deadly Sins: Greed
Deadly Sins: Envy
Deadly Sins: Pride
Sloane & Maddie, Peril Awaits, Series Reading Order
The Silent Boy
The Shadow Children
The Broken Soul
The Widow Maker
Addison Lockhart Supernatural Ghost Mystery Series Reading Order
Grayson Manor Haunting
Rosecliff Manor Haunting
Blackthorn Manor Haunting
Belle Manor Haunting
Crawley Manor Haunting
Stand Alone Mystery Novels
Eye For Revenge
Hickory Hickory Dead
The Perfect Lie
Roadkill
GEORGIANA GERMAINE MYSTERY SERIES READING ORDER
Book 1: Little Girl Lost
Book 2: Little Lost Secrets
Book 3: Little Broken Things
Book 4: Little White Lies
Book 5: Little Tangled Webs
Book 6: Little Shattered Dreams
Book 7: Little Last Words
Book 8: Little Buried Secrets
Book 9: Little Stolen Memories
Book 10: Little Empty Promises
LITTLE GIRL LOST
GEORGIANA GERMAINE SERIES, BOOK 1
Chapter 1
Lark Donovan rubbed her eyes and blinked at the shadow on the wall in the hallway. Seconds before, she swore it had moved. She leaned back on the pillow, pulled the blanket over her nose, and peered into the darkness.
Daddy?
she said. Is it you?
The hallway hummed along to the repetitious beat of a ceiling fan in the distance, and after staring at the same spot for a while, the wall remained stationary, and Lark grew tired. Maybe she’d been wrong. Maybe she hadn’t seen anything after all. Or maybe it was William Shakespaw, the family cat.
Willy?
she said. Is it you? Here, kitty, kitty.
The cat didn’t come.
At bedtime, after Lark’s parents read her a story and tucked her beneath the covers, they always closed the door behind them, even though they knew she was afraid of the dark. Once they’d gone and she was alone, she imagined things—horrible things, like sharks springing forth from the water beneath the carpet and biting off one of her toes when she dangled her foot too far over the side of the bed.
The bogeyman was real.
Lark was sure of it.
She’d tried convincing her mother once, but her mother had just rolled her eyes and said, You’re being ridiculous, Lark. Monsters aren’t real. Neither are ghosts or bogeymen or any of the silly things you conjure up with your imagination. I close your door for a reason. I don’t want you growing up to be a nervous Nellie. You need to be brave.
Lark wasn’t brave, though, and most nights when her mother thought she was sleeping, she was awake, waiting for her parents to retire to the den to watch television so she could tiptoe through the darkness and crack her bedroom door open again. She was careful never to open it too much, just enough to let in a hint of a glow from the nightlight her mother kept plugged in down the hall. When daybreak came, Lark was careful to remember to get out of bed and close the door again before her mother came in to wake her. So far, her plan had been a success. In the five months she’d been doing it, she’d never been caught.
Deciding the movement on the wall had been nothing more than a figment of her overactive imagination Lark snuggled back inside her blankets. She gave her stuffed unicorn a squeeze and began drifting off to sleep again when she heard her father’s raised voice. She wasn’t able to make out what he was saying, and she wondered whom he was talking to so late at night. Her mother was out of town. They were all alone in the house. Weren’t they?
For a time, Lark remained still, listening. All was quiet at first, and then she heard another man’s voice. It was breathy and deep, far different than her father’s. The man’s voice sounded like it had come from outside. Lark scooted halfway down her bed until she reached the window. She brushed the curtain to the side and peeked out.
Lark’s father was standing by the pool in the back yard with his arms folded. His face looked the way it always did when Lark was about to be scolded. Another man stood next to him. A man Lark hadn’t seen before. The man’s pointer finger was stabbing at the air, and his face was all scrunched up.
Lark’s father said something to the man, and then he swished a hand through the air and shook his head. The gesture seemed to irritate the man, and he reached out, shoving Lark’s father in the chest. Lark’s father shoved him back, and then the man dug into his coat pocket and pulled out a gun.
Lark’s father stepped back and he raised his hands in front of him. Although Lark couldn’t hear his words, she read his lips when he said, Please, don’t.
It was the first time Lark had ever seen a gun in real life. A couple of years earlier, she’d watched a man on television shoot at a bear—twice. Lark had gasped when she saw it, prompting her mother to enter the room, grab the remote control, and change the channel.
Curious about the interaction between the man and the bear, Lark had said, Mommy, why did the man on TV shoot at the bear? The bear was only trying to eat the man’s sandwich.
Never you mind,
her mother had said. I’ll tell you when you’re older.
Staring at her father now, Lark wished she were older. She wished she could do something, even though she didn’t know what could be done. She thought about hopping off her bed, running outside, and shouting, Hey! Stop it! Stop being mean to my daddy!
But before she could do anything, the man aimed the gun at her father and fired. Her father pressed his hands over his chest. He looked at the blood trickling down his shirt and stumbled backward, collapsing into the pool.
Lark pressed her hands to her lips and screamed.
The man jerked his head back. He saw Lark, and his eyes widened. He tucked the gun beneath his jacket and walked toward her. Lark knew she should back away from the window, but her body wouldn’t cooperate. It had gone numb. The man reached the window, pressed his face against the glass, and tapped a finger against the windowpane.
Hello there,
he said. What’s your name?
Stricken with fear, Lark thought of her mother and what her mother would say if she were there now, watching the events unfold. She closed her eyes and pretended she was somewhere else, somewhere safe, and the sound of her mother’s voice thundered through her mind like a lion’s roar. "Be brave, Lark! RUN!"
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LITTLE LOST SECRETS
GEORGIANA GERMAINE SERIES, BOOK 2
Chapter 1
It had been a long, arduous half hour for Tiffany Wheeler, and she feared it would get worse before it got better. Her boyfriend, Russell, stood a few feet away, his head cocked to the side, eyes wild. He brushed a lock of his black hair out of his eye, unbuttoned his suit jacket, and stared at her the way he always did right before his blood reached its boiling point and was about to bubble over.
What do you mean you don’t want to live in LA anymore?
he asked. Why not?
I’ve already told you why,
she said. I’m tired of the fast-paced life. I want to move back home.
You said you were coming here to do a few simple renovations to this house before you listed it,
he said. I get here and the place is a flipping disaster. You’ve torn down walls, gutted the kitchen. What gives?
Tiffany remained quiet, considering the best way to proceed. It didn’t matter what she said. Russell was used to getting his way, something he wouldn’t get tonight.
He was in denial.
She was avoiding what had still been left unsaid.
Confrontation of any kind had always been difficult between them in the two years they’d been together. Russell was used to the high life, climbing the corporate ladder, and taking any steps necessary to rise to the top. In their relationship, it had always been his way or no way. And Tiffany now realized since they’d been together, she hadn’t just lost her identity; she’d lost her voice.
I think we should break up were the words she needed to say.
Such simple words.
And yet, she struggled to bring herself to say them.
I’ve decided to keep the house,
she said. And I think we should … it’s just … I’ve done a lot of thinking since I’ve been here, and you’re a good guy. But I don’t think we’re right for each other. I waited until tonight to tell you how I was feeling because I hoped the doubts I’d been having about our relationship would go away. They haven’t, and I need to be honest … with you and with myself.
Russell clenched his jaw and stepped back. "What you’re saying is, I’m a good guy, but not a great one. I’m good for you, just not good enough for you."
In a moment of childish defiance, he scooped the flowers he’d just given her off the counter and tossed them at her face.
You want to tell me what’s really going on here?
he barked. You stepping out on me? Huh? You screwing somebody else?
Of course not!
she said. Calm down. You’re being irrational.
You want irrational? I’ll give you irrational. I planned on surprising you tonight.
He reached a hand inside his pants pocket, pulled out a ring, and shoved it in front of her face. I was going to surprise you with this.
An engagement ring?
The subject of marriage had never even been discussed before.
You were going to propose?
she asked.
He jerked his arm back and hurled the ring across the room, and she watched it disappear into a pile of drywall scraps.
"I was going to propose, he said.
Not anymore. I thought we felt the same way about each other. Turns out, I’m the idiot. I love you, and you are interested in someone else."
What are you talking about? I told you the truth. There is no one else.
The least you could do is not lie to my face.
He pushed her to the side and stormed into the living room, crouching over the area where he’d tossed the ring. She bent down beside him, reaching a hand into the pile to assist. He grabbed her wrist and snapped it back.
Don’t,
he said. I don’t want your help.
She ignored the comment and reached in again.
He flashed her an infuriated look and thrust a hand into her chest, hurtling her backward. Her head smacked against the wall behind her. Outraged by his physical assault, her first instinct was to shove him back, but when they locked eyes, all she saw in his was pain—a man whose life had just crumbled to dust without any forewarning.
I love you, Tiffany,
he said. I have no idea what I did to lose you, to deserve what you’re putting me through right …
He stared at the wall, allowing his words to trail off before balling his hands into fists. Not knowing what would come next, Tiffany said, No, Russell. Whatever you’re thinking of doing … don’t.
She darted to the side. He drilled his fist into the wall inches from where her head had just been and then slumped to the ground beside her.
I’m gutted,
he whispered. You’ve torn me in half tonight.
Tiffany exhaled a long breath of air and placed a hand on his shoulder. She let it rest there for a moment, and then she crawled over to the pile of drywall. She ran her fingers through the scraps, searching for the ring. She found it and turned, holding the ring out in front of her.
Here,
she said. Take it. Take it and go. Okay?
She dropped the ring into his hand, and he nodded. He pushed himself off the floor and walked toward the front of the house, stopping to glance back at her one last time before he left.
I feel like I have no idea who you are,
he said. The Tiffany I know shops at Gucci, stays in five-star hotels, and loves the energy and hustle of the city. This … what you’ve got going here … it isn’t you, and it will never work. Enjoy your crap life in your crap house.
He walked out, allowing the door to slam behind him. She went to the window, pushed the curtain to the side, and watched him tear into the night. The breakup had been much more bitter and raw than she’d expected. But she was certain she made the right choice, even though she was sickened by what had just transpired between them.
She slid the curtain closed, grabbed a bottle of red wine out of a cardboard box, and guzzled half of it down. The recent weeks of pent-up frustration came flooding back in a wave of tears. She set the bottle down and walked into the living room, staring at the hole Russell had left in the wall. She reached down and picked up the construction worker’s sledgehammer, running its forged-steel head along her hand. She lugged the hammer behind her and swung at the wall, again and again and again, breaking the drywall, piece by infuriating piece. As her blows ripped the wall