Author James Patterson Books Novels & Stories

Patrick told James. “That sounds ominous, please take a seat,” James told him and then he sat down on his chair. “So, what is this news that couldn't wait till the end of the week?” James asked Mr. Patrick. “Well, you know how you asked me to continue trailing Anna and Dylan?” Patrick asked James and James didn't like the tone of his voice at all, it was like he was about to deliver bad news. “Yes, did something happen?” James asked him, already dreading what his answer would be.

He complimented. "I'm flattered." Pretending not to see him drool, "Where are you coming from?" "I went for a walk." "You shouldn't be walking around all by yourself." "I was bored for death and decided to take a walk. I've not been myself since we last spoke." James confessed. "Here, have your seat." Patricia helped him to his bed. "How is she holding on?" James asked, looking nervous. "She..." Patricia stop mid way, "I think it's best not to talk about this."

"I don't need to know his name. He's a brat, so you should call his parents as well to discipline him. How dare he lie about being that rude girl's guardian! Do you think I'm stupid?" "Excuse me? Lie?" Niel couldn't take it anymore. "Do you know who I am, Mr James?" Niel asked domineeringly. "I should be the one asking that question. Do you know who I am, kid?!" Eric James replied arrogantly. "Of course, I knew who you are. You're Eric James, the owner of James Corporation who owned a few bookstores inside this metropolis. You provide books to schools and made collaborations with a lot of libraries inside the city."

There, I saw Jameson sitting on the couch while reading a book. "What are you reading?" I asked him. He looked at me in an instant and smiled. "Oh, this book is entitled 'One of Us is Lying.' It's a mystery-crime book," he replied and went back to reading again. I sat on the other couch and sighed. "You're still interested in reading books, aren't you?" I asked. He nodded, "Yup. Nothing has changed." "So, what have you been doing these past years? Where do you live?" I asked again.

"That's on me. I can't undo it. I can just try to be different now." James had finished his snacks and climbed back into Patricia's lap with no warning. He patted her cheek with a sticky hand, examined her face up close the way toddlers did when they decided they liked you enough to inspect you thoroughly. "You have pretty eyes." He told her. "Like August's." "Like August's?" Patricia looked at August who was still methodically working through his apple. "August has Daddy's eyes." James announced this as established fact. "Mommy showed us a picture once. Daddy has blue eyes like August. Your eyes are blue too. Like a family."

Mom supported me, not because she understood, but because she loved me and wanted me to be happy. I stood up and walked around the library, feeling a little restless. They had all of the classics, and some of them looked as though they were expensive copies. Other authors that I regularly read, such as James Patterson and Dean Koontz were on the shelves. They even had some of my female favorites, such as Lisa Jackson, Lisa Gardner and Heather Graham Pozzessere. Then I wondered down to another section where I found some more provocative books. They had a lot of erotica books. One huge volume stood out: The Kama Sutra.

Emma wandered toward the section of notebooks and journals, her fingers brushing spines until she paused at one with a simple cover. “You like that one?” James asked softly. Emma nodded. “I want to write again. Not for anyone else. For myself.” James smiled. “Take it.” At the counter, the bookseller offered a friendly nod. No recognition. No whispers. James realized how much he missed small moments of anonymity like this—being an ordinary man buying a book at night. Outside, the air had grown colder. They walked slowly back to the car. As James settled Ethan into his seat, the boy murmured, half-asleep, “Papa.”

I had found the Fort Knox of pussy protection. And for an hour it worked. Cory read the new James Patterson book and I read the other new James Patterson book (he apparently puts out a new book more often than the Red Sox lose another game). Interestingly, Cory and I had a lot of common interests, including being avid readers and both having the same favourite author in James Patterson. Sit in any single position for a straight hour though, and the rear becomes a mutineer. Yet, even though I was very uncomfortable, I refused to reposition myself, although I did begin to squirm a bit.

So, I came as fast as I could, even though my mind wasn’t in the best place. I had seen Patricia today, at Liam’s school. It was his first day, and I went to drop him off. Then I saw her in the lobby. For a moment, I thought my eyes were deceiving me. But they weren’t. It was her, Patricia. Except she looked... different. Stronger. More confident. The door opened, pulling me out of my thoughts. I straightened up as James walked in, wearing his usual confident smile. “I’m sorry,” he said, handing me the file, “but you might need to revise this again. The president expects exceptional results from this project. The plan has to be perfect.”

I expected it to dark and damp like in horror movies but since it's James's room, it is so pristine. There's only one window that shows a view of the backyard, the window is wide and has a net which James installed himself. The walls are painted white with little drawings on them and the ceiling is sky blue. There's a bed pushed to the wall, a standing fan at one corner, study table with a mountain of books and an array of stationary. He even has a mini fridge and an inbuilt wardrobe. His laptop is on the corner of his bed charging. And a small TV is perched on the wall.