Julia London Books Novels & Stories

She grabbed Mila’s shoulder and turned her around. “Why haven’t I thought of this before now?” She whispered. “What’s it?” Bowyer threw a question. Anita smiled. “I found a solution. Thank God my daughter won’t have to spend her hard earning money on debt and bail.” “What’s the solution?” Bowyer asked. “Mila.” Anita answered with simplicity. “Make rice with chicken stew.” She ordered Mila. “Okay, ma.” Mila walked away. He frowned his face in confusion. “How does this concern Mila? What does she have to do with Anya marrying Dimitri?”

Every ounce of me wanted to go smack Julia in the head for giving me such a scare. I thought somerhing big was there! No! It was just the same ole news about a freaking weirdo named Oly London who had some psychotic belief that he became Jules! Like can a human being be more cruel to themself? And some sick fake fans even support him! Don't they realize how scared Jules actually is of this lunatic?

– all filtered through layers of ad blockers and private browsing. Julian was a titan, a force of nature disguised in Savile Row suits. He was ruthless, calculating, and seemingly immune to the sentimental traps that ensnared lesser men. He donated generously to the arts, a fact that both intrigued and disgusted Liam. It felt… calculated. Liam imagined Julian writing a check, not out of genuine altruism, but as a strategic move to improve his public image.

“Your marriage. Your company. Your life.” Emma felt a spark inside her, a fire breaking through the hurt. “She can’t have them,” Emma said softly. “Then don’t let her.” Emma sat up. “Get Julian for me.” “What are you planning?” “I want to find out what really happened in London.” Lola grinned. “Now you’re talking.” An hour later… Julian stepped into the room cautiously, eyes darting between Lola and Emma. “You wanted me?” Emma was seated now, cleaned up, eyes rimmed in red but focused. In her hand: a legal pad filled with notes. Her posture: composed. Her tone: steel.

"I suppose no place in London is truly safe, which is why no woman should walk the streets alone, especially in the evening." Her gaze grew distant for a moment. "It is a mistake I will not make again." Then she looked down at her book. "Next question, my lord." Well, he'd tried. Perhaps a more circuitous route was required to win her trust. "What book are you reading?" He nodded at the tome she'd set aside. "Adam Smith's Wealth of Nations." "Truly?" He blinked at her. Most men he knew couldn't finish that book, and he'd never given much thought to whether a woman would read it. Not that he didn't think a woman could manage it, just that it was so bloody boring

"Yes, very much. I'm happy to see Ishak so interested in the world of reading. Surely Ishak will be a smart kid in the future." William swept his gaze around the alluring bookshelves. He grabbed a book that caught his attention and showed it to Juliana. "Is there a book you would like to read, Juliana?" he asked gently. Juliana looked at the book that was pointed out by William. The cover caught her eye, with a beautiful illustration and a catchy title. He was interested to know more about the contents of the book. "Actually, this book looks interesting, sir," answered Juliana in a low voice. "I like the topic and it might be a source of inspiration for me."

Julia said, raising a hand. She walked over to Sophia, ignoring the glass crunching beneath her boots. She didn't look at her with anger anymore; she looked at her with the cold focus of a strategist. "I don't care about your affair with my husband," Julia said quietly, looking Sophia dead in the eyes. "But I care about the people who try to destroy my father's house. I have two daughters sleeping under this roof. If the De Lucas are hunting Anthony’s blood, my children are just as much in their crosshairs as your son. I will protect this house because it is mine. Now, hand me the book."

A text from an unknown number. *Dear Dr. Zanetti, I'm Clara Benson, Senior Editor at Meridian Books. I read your thesis abstract online and was incredibly impressed. I'd love to discuss the possibility of publishing it as a monograph. Are you free for a coffee next week?* Keira stared at the screen, her heart hammering. Meridian Books. One of the most respected independent publishers in the UK, known for their beautifully produced academic titles and their commitment to emerging voices. They'd published books she'd cited in her thesis. Books that had shaped her thinking.

Julian and Lorena came every day, bringing food and flowers. Today was different. Julian came alone. His expression was serious, and there was something in his eyes that made me uneasy. "Damian, we need to talk." "What happened?" I asked. Julian let out a long sigh. "I've arranged everything. I'm taking you to London." I nodded. "And Élise?" Julian was silent. His eyes avoided mine. "What?" I asked, feeling something was wrong. "Élise... I can't take her to London."

A single armchair squats in the corner, worn at the arms, a reading lamp bent over it like a question. Julian Croft has a hidden library. The ice king, the man who dismantles empires before breakfast, reads poetry in secret. I walk the shelves. Keats. Frost. Neruda. Dickinson. And Rilke. A whole row of Rilke, different translations, some so loved the covers are mended with tape. I ease a thin volume from the shelf. Letters to a Young Poet. Dark blue cloth, frayed at the corners. I open it and recognize his handwriting instantly. Sharp, angular, the same hand that signed my contract at 4:52 AM.