Little Bitter Truths | Georgiana Germaine Mysteries #14 | Ebook

The wrong sister is murdered, leaving the right one in grave danger ...

When Willow Bennett asks her identical twin, Wren, to house-sit while she’s away on a work trip, a small favor turns deadly when Wren is found murdered in Willow’s bed.

Grief turns to terror when the truth becomes impossible to ignore, and Willow realizes she was the killer’s target, not Wren.
Desperate for justice, Willow turns to Private Investigator Georgiana Germaine. What begins as a case of mistaken identity soon turns to a web of secrets, old wounds, and a motive no one saw coming. 

As Georgiana digs deeper, time is not on her side. The killer already struck once, a fatal mistake that’s about to be corrected.

What Readers are Saying about the Series:

"Makes you want to keep reading the story into the night." ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

"A strong lead character and plenty of drama, it keeps the reader engaged." ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

"Leaving you wanting to read more." ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

"I will definitely read more from this author." ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

"Kept me on the edge of my seat." ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

SNEAK PEEK OF CHAPTER ONE:

Wren Bennett dried the last of the evening’s dishes and set the dish towel to the side as she leaned forward, staring out the window at the full moon. It had been a good day. A quiet day. And now she was looking forward to winding down.

Three days had passed since Wren arrived at her sister Mia’s house to stay with Coco, Mia’s Labrador retriever, while Willow attended a work conference in Denver. Wren welcomed the change of scenery, seeing it as an opportunity to escape a reality she wasn’t ready to deal with—the end of her marriage.

Wren wasn’t sure where everything had gone wrong in her marriage with Cooper, just that it had. Over the past year they’d become more like roommates than lovers, spending less and less time with each other as the months had droned on. Two weeks earlier, she’d sat Cooper down to express her feelings, surprised to learn he felt the same way. Rather than stick it out and fight for the relationship, they threw the towel in, coming to the decision that they were better the way they’d started, as friends.

Ending the relationship was the right decision.

But it was far more painful than she imagined it would be.

Wren squeezed her eyes shut and opened them, her thoughts turning away from Cooper, and she reached down, giving Coco a loving pat. “What do you say, girl? Should we watch something together in the living room?”

Coco circled around her and then trotted toward the living room as if she’d been able to comprehend what Wren had said. 

Wren sat curled into the corner of the couch, her knees tucked beneath her as she pulled a throw blanket over her lap. She clicked on the remote, and the television lit up with a glow, casting shadows along the wall. A late-night true crime show played, the kind of show Willow loved.

Coco hopped up, resting her head on Wren’s thigh.

As the show progressed, the wind kicked up outside, stirring leaves and branches, and rattling the living room window. Coco shot up, eyes narrow, as she glanced out the window, then back at Wren.

“It’s all right, girl,” Wren reassured. “It’s just a bit of wind. You’re okay.”

Before settling in on the sofa, Wren had checked the locks, more out of habit than fear. Willow lived in a quiet neighborhood. Nothing ever happened here.

Wren’s cell phone buzzed on the coffee table, and she reached for it, seeing a text message from Mia.

Made it to Denver.

Conference starts early tomorrow morning.

I hope you’re having a good time with Coco.

Wren smiled and typed back:

All good here.

Glad you got there safe.

The television droned on, a detective asking questions Wren half listened to, as her eyelids fell heavy, and she nodded off. Waking several minutes later, the wind had died down, but a faint sound drifted down the hall.

It wasn’t loud.

Still …

Wren muted the television and listened.

Nothing.

One minute passed, then two, and she breathed a sigh of relief and shook her head. Being alone always made her jumpy. And though her marriage had fallen apart, Cooper had almost always been around at night, offering her a sense of safety and security.

She reached for the remote to turn the sound back on when she heard something else, clearer this time. A soft thud, then the faint creak of wood.

Coco lifted her head, scanning the dark hallway behind them, and this time, Wren felt a twitch of unease.

Then she heard it—footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. Every nerve screamed at her to move, to get up, to run, but her muscles refused to cooperate. Coco jumped off the couch as if determined to investigate, a low growl building in her chest.

“Coco,” Wren whispered. “Come here, girl.”

As soon as she said it, the footsteps stopped, and Wren turned.

A figure stood at the edge of the living room, half hidden in shadow. A mask covered the face, and black clothing blended into the darkness around it.

The figure didn’t rush.

Didn’t hesitate.

It stepped forward.

Wren’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. She scrambled off the couch, her bare feet sliding against the hardwood as she attempted to back away.

“Please,” she said. “I don’t know who you are or why you’re here, but I want you to leave.”

The words hung in the air, fragile and useless.

The figure raised an arm, aiming a gun at Wren’s head.

For a moment time slowed, stretching thin as Wren’s life flashed before her. She thought of her sister and of Cooper and of the life she thought ahead of her. A life she wasn’t sure she’d live to see.

As a gunshot rang through the air, Coco lunged forward with a sharp bark. Wren collapsed to the floor, the room tilting as her consciousness began to fade. In the background, the television screen flickered, still muted, its images sliding out of focus. Coco’s bark turned frantic, her body standing over Wren as if to protect her.

Footsteps retreated, quick now, fading into the night the same way they had come. Somewhere, an open window creaked, then fell silent.

As blood spread across the hardwood, Coco whined, nudging Wren’s shoulder with her nose. Wren’s eyes stared past her, unseeing, fixed on nothing at all. In her final moment, her phone buzzed with a message—a message that would never be read.