Jennifer Francis Author Novels & Stories

“Just… off. Like she’s hiding something. You two are still close, right? I mean you share the same room. Did she ever tell you anything… something personal? Something she wouldn’t want getting out?” His frown deepened, and he pushed his sunglasses back up, shielding his eyes. “What’s with the third degree, Lisa? You got a problem with her or something?” I forced another laugh, tilting my head playfully. “Oh, come on, I’m just kidding around! I’m curious, that’s all. She’s so private, you know? Hardly ever opens up.” Francis didn’t laugh. He took a slow sip of his drink, his jaw working as if he was chewing over his words. “Christine doesn’t talk much about herself,” he said finally. “She kee

Jenny didn't even mind if she was choking the six year old child. "What are you doing Jenny? Don't hurt her!" Francis came. He already changed his hairstyle and got a mole tattoo on his face. He didn't want anyone to recognise him since there was still a bounty on his head. He wasn't ready to go to jail. He was free to walk around Athens. Jenny left Kelly and took her purse. "I'll be late if I remain here another minute. Take care of your daughter. I won't be home tonight" she said.

None of them had a key to the front door – they’d been buzzed in from inside. Francine had just brought a woman from the hospital straight here. Francine, who specialized in treating women who accused their husbands of abuse. She helped those same lying bitches to take away children from their own fathers, she made sure that men never saw their own kids again. And that was when he knew: he was looking at a shelter. He was just twenty feet away from a bunch of fucking cunts who had done to their husbands and boyfriends exactly what his whore of an ex had done to him. And the woman who had wrecked his life had just brought another bitch here, which just proved that Francine had learned nothing

Scarlett resolutely refused. After that, Scarlett turned to leave. Right then, she ran into the last person she felt like seeing. It was Jennifer and Claire. They were walking towards her. “Wow… what the fuck? It really is my lucky day, isn’t it?” Scarlett frowned and muttered under her breath. “Don’t talk like that! You are a mother now!” Francis urged. As they came closer, Jenifer ignored Scarlett completely. Instead, she went straight up to Francis. She extended her palm to shake Francis’s hand and said, “Well, what a lovely coincidence, Mr. Sandler. Fancy meeting you here.”

“ Don't be stupid, Amelia! You think Jean won't wonder why you lied to help a woman who uses false names and, by the way, attends your events. - I try to persuade her, because if this bomb has to explode, I don't want it to be today. “ I don't care, I'll make up an excuse. You're not the only one who makes up good stories, Francisca!” “ No, but I always calculate my steps well, that's why I got where I am while you, well, I don't need to state the obvious…”, I adjust my dress with my hands, showing off the much coveted piece of the evening that once belonged to you. - Do you want to sink even lower? “ Whatever, Jean will walk through that door and recognize you, it will be the end of you too

Slowly, she opened the book to first page. ‘Francis' Journal’ 1993. “What was a book like that looking for in a Library?” Trisha asked herself as she flipped to the next page. It was filled with personal information about the unknown Francis which wasn't what she wanted. She flipped on and on it but like the other books Trisha had picked, it wasn't what she needed.

There had to be something else happening, so I stuffed the paper into my pocket and went to find the one person that could help me with it at the bookstore. “Look what the cat dragge don,” Jennifer drawled as she saw me. She looked beautiful today, her hair in a high bun and no make up on her face. Almost, unrecognizable from the evil bitch that made me commit murder. “Hey,” I said. “What do you want, Seraphina? To ask me for help then blow me off again?”

Francesco’s POV “Here you go,” I said, handing Josephine a bottle of water which she took. “Thank you,” She mumbled, her gaze returning to the glass doors of Sabrina's room. “It's been a week and there's still no improvement, Francesco. What if she really never wakes up?” I regarded her morose countenance for a moment, my heart breaking at how emaciated and gaunt she looked. Josephine had lost so much weight that I didn't think was possible for someone to lose in such a little while, in just a week.

Standing on the sidewalk was Francis, looking like a literal god in the morning light, alongside his Amanda, Joey. "Francis," Joey said, her voice laced with skepticism. "Are you actually serious about this?" Francis’s smile was dazzling, yet there was something sharp behind it. "Of course I am, Amanda. I’m a grown man. I don't play games I don't intend to win." "But I hate her," Joey spat. "She’s a divorcee with a pack of kids. She was set up by her foster mother at eighteen, a 'fallen woman' who gave birth out of wedlock. What could possibly attract you to a woman like that?"