Author Julie Johnson Novels & Stories

Julian ------ She gave him the manuscript on a Sunday morning. All of it. Three hundred and twenty-one pages, printed, stacked on the kitchen counter with a single sticky note on top that read: *One week. No edits. Just read.* He read it in four days. Not because he rushed. Because he couldn't stop. He read it the way she had told him to — as a reader, not a participant. He tried. The first fifty pages he succeeded, losing himself in her account of the trials the way a reader would, following the thread of a story whose outcome he didn't know.

"This is unbelievable! I’m going to take a walk outside. I need to breathe. This is a lot, and I’m upset she used you like that." I nodded as he turned and walked out. Sienna Julian seemed to have gone out, so sitting outside and reading was my next best option. Mirror Image by Sandra Brown. It was so captivating. When was this woman going to tell her husband—who is not her husband—that his wife died in a plane crash?

I take a good long whiff of her scent as I stare into her chocolate brown eyes. “Her name is Julia. She is not pregnant. It has been more than six weeks since she has been with a lover. Her blood type would be O positive. She more muscle than body fat, so her weight is around one hundred and fifty four pounds. She uses natural deodorant but puts products in her hair. She also has a thing for sweets” I state evenly. I walk back to the good doctor and push the clip board into his chest. He fumbles as he takes it from me but immediately starts to write down what I said.

Neat rows of windows gleam, and my eyes roam upward as I catch a flash of movement in one of them. Julia, wrapped in nothing but a towel, walks past. Her long auburn hair is twisted up in a bun, but a few strands have escaped to frame her face. She doesn’t seem to realize that anybody could see her. My gaze lowers to the spot where the top of the towel conceals her chest before the guilt kicks in.

The project wasn't about art. Not really. It was about being seen. About telling stories. About reclaiming something. Camille shifted nervously in her chair. "I know it sounds stupid." "No." The answer came instantly. "It doesn't." The younger woman's shoulders relaxed slightly. Jessica continued turning pages. The ideas became more ambitious. More detailed. More powerful. Then she saw a title written across one page. The Unbroken Collection The words hit her harder than expected. Because they felt true. Painfully true.

she said, biting her lower lip. “I guess”, I whispered. Julie started other things I couldn't understand because I wasn't listening. All that was on my mind was how I was going to avoid Julian, and I must do so,at all cost. And speak of the devil. The heavy dining room doors swung open, and Julian walked in. His large, imposing frame seemed to instantly consume the entire room's attention the moment he crossed the threshold. Broad shoulders, sharp jaw, effortless posture—damn, he was fine. But my breath caught in my throat when I noticed the unfamiliar, perfectly manicured hand entangled with his.

SOPHIA LANCASTER I stepped out of the elevator and walked down the quiet, softly lit hallway of Julian Thorne’s penthouse. I walked toward the doors at the end of the hall. They were partially open, revealing the warm, flickering orange light of a fire. I pushed the door open and stepped into Julian’s library. Julian was sitting in a deep leather armchair near the fire. He was wearing a simple, dark tailored shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, completely relaxed. He was holding a thick book in one hand and a glass of dark red wine in the other.

“J-Julius?” “You.” Anne. The woman smiled gently at Julius. “I miss you so much,” she said. Her soft voice created vibrations that Julius didn't expect still existed in him, mixed with the pain that was repeated because of what this woman had done. Not getting any response from Julius, Anne was very sad, but she continued. “I've heard a lot about you. You... are amazing. You have achieved what you wanted,” Anne said. Step. Step. The woman moved closer to Julius, her hand reaching out as if to touch his face as if it had been ages since she last did. However, Julius swiftly stepped back, avoiding any potential physical contact.

Of course, she was interested if there was a quick way to achieve what she aspired for. "Oh, really? Do you know how?" Arrow nodded, followed by laughter. "Oh my God, Julia. Don't be so naive. Are you seriously unaware?" Julia shook her head. For anything, despite being far from good and indeed riding on the coattails of her husband's fame, Julia had never engaged in cheating for her job. All the achievements she had attained so far were truly the results of her hard work from scratch. "For heaven's sake, I don't understand what you mean. Do you really know what Elijah is up to?"

She's often possessed; I hope you won't be surprised if she suddenly behaves unusually," Julian whispered in Julie's ear. "Why did you bring her here? It's ridiculous," Julie replied no less quietly. "She's trustworthy, and she's still a descendant of the five great witches." "I only trust you, Julian." "And I need your expertise to break into Dad's cupboard." "Hahaha, you're so funny." "So, can we get started?" Joan looked straight at Julie. Her grey eyes seemed to be searching for an answer to the question Julian had asked her. She nodded and took a step back. Joan reached into a leather pouch from her waist bag and took out a jar containing a white powder.