John Grisham Novels & Stories

“Some are calling you the female John Grisham. For a first time author, how does that make you feel?” Stupid question, Alex thought. “Well, Stephanie, I could say that John Grisham is the female Rachel Clark...” Great comeback, Rach. The reporter obviously didn’t share Alex’s appraisal of Rachel’s remark. “Uh, what I meant was that your book, Legal Briefs, is set in a law firm.”

He looked like a predator catching a scent on the wind. Massaging the seasoning into the meat, my hands work automatically. The casual, absolute certainty in his voice when he told me he terminates his targets still echoes in my head. He's out there killing people. Pulling a trigger and ending lives, and doing it because of me. The thought should make me uneasy. I'm a white-collar criminal. My crimes involve keystrokes, data manipulation, and moving numbers across international borders. Bloodshed is a concept that exists purely in action movies and news reports.

She looked at her with a fake expression of surprise. "Everyone in this city, this country knows who Alexander Grissham is, he is a rich mobster who is famous for his good looks but also his cruelty because he killed his own family. He is a man who has many women. One person will not be enough. Two? Not enough. Three? If he gets bored, he'll throw them away."

After they left, I took a car to the fake death service center. When I saw the silicone body, crafted to mirror me exactly down to the skin texture and most minor details, I couldn't help but be impressed by their skill. While I was still staring, a staff member handed me a contract. "Ms. Granger, we've booked your flight to Milanos and wiped all your identity records. The replacement is ready. On the day you chose, we'll make it fall from the banquet hall rooftop exactly as instructed. "From that moment, Elsa Granger will no longer exist—only Faith Winslow. Sign here if you're ready."

I hear him murmur. Heart in my throat, I turn the knob and wander in. Grayson sits behind his desk, pen between his fingers at he writes on a piece of paper. He looks up when I close the door behind me, the most prominent specks of silver glinting in his eyes as he caught my gaze. His office is impressive. More impressive than mine back at home. Is it even my home anymore? "I know," I say, although my voice comes out breathless and hoarse. Grayson's eyebrows furrow together in confusion, not knowing what I am talking about. I force my eyes to the ground.

Whatever that thing was, but how were they connected? My visions of Grisha were painful, they were draining, and they were chilling. But my vision of the burning bird was calm, peaceful, and utterly soul-fetching. But why did it scream Grisha? Because I heard it, I heard it loud and clear and I knew it screamed Grisha! What in the hell was Grisha and what did it have to do with the burning bird? For an umpteenth time ever since I set my foot in Varagrafena, I laid awake at night, filled with nothing but questions, and more confusion!

Maybe I really wanted to go home, and didn't notice it immediately, I just only realized when we had already left the bar. I am Kimora Beatrix Lucien Gomez, daughter of the fucking Alessandro Gomez. I can't just agree with what men want. That will never occur. The moment won’t come. Never in my current lifetime and never in the one after that. I have already sworn that for a long time. On Monday, I got out of bed early. I have to commute since I don't have a car. I decided to have breakfast at Starbucks first. I was quietly eating my ensaymada when some guy approached me.

Satisfied with himself, he quietly lies down on the bed and closes his eyes… Time to scare the shit out of these fuckers…. The Grishams were lazily sprawled across the room in the small hotel. Mr. Grisham was sitting on a chair flipping through the newspapers to see if there was anything mentioned about them or Charlotte. Mrs. Grisham was excitedly packing their luggage for the big move...and Archie…he was sleeping on the bed after tiring himself of the only toy available...the Rubik’s cube. And then someone knocks on the door… “Yes?” Mr. Grisham tries to sound brave but fails miserably.

Books by John Grisham, Sidney Sheldon, Colleen Hoover, James Patterson and Ted Dekker. Jamaal Amir Haidar reads novels, crime most especially. I'm even shocked to see he reads Colleen Hoover's books too. I picked one of the books and began to smell the fresh scent of newly printed books. The door opened suddenly, Jamaal stepped in with little Ahmad in his arms. The little boy had his hands wrapped around his brother's neck. I stared at Jamaal in shock, seeing Jamaal holding his younger brother, trying to lure him to sleep shocked me.

"I understand, but you are wrong. I don't know why Johnny wants to protect you, but I do know that when you have Johnny Gravano on your side, you don't have anything to worry about." "It's hard to trust anyone." He nodded. "I know." He walked over to me, taking my hands in his. "I'm an old friend of Johnny. We grew up together, and he always had this smile on his face, even though his life was a mess back home. He was a friend that everyone needed to have, always willing to help where he could, and honestly, he still hasn't changed.