Sarah Marie Johnson Novels & Stories

It’s not pretty. I take a shuddering breath in and move to sit on the sofa and open the P*F. I read the information in front of me. Each thing I read so far is normal. Sophie Corrine Johnson, daughter of Anna Marie Johnson, formerly Fisher, married to Benjiman Johnson. Older brother Jared Mark Johnson.

"She's pretty. What didn't you like?" "Did you see the way she was looking at me? I swear if I shook her hand, she would've licked it instead," Scott said, horrified. "Alright, fine. No sex-crazed maniacs," Gerard noted. "And someone who gives him dirty looks," Daniel added to his notepad. The second was Sarah Johnson, thirty-two, petite, with dark brown hair and blonde streaks. Beautiful green eyes—but something about her just… didn't sit right with Scott. He couldn't explain it.

ONE HUNDRED AND ONE: Sarah Sarah Carr ran down her hallway and stopped before a mirror to check her cropped, spiked hair. “Pushing sixty-three but I don’t look a day over forty-five.” Her laughter was a sad, husky sound in this house. Self-affirmations like these got her through the day.

I put Zacharias down in his crib next to Stefano in the corner making my way back to the table "First of all, I am the Chief Investigator at WSP, Detective Clarke," he began pulling a badge from his pocket and showing me the Washington patrol star logo. "Is your name Ella Jones?" "Ella Loren actually," I replied sitting down at the table. "Is Leonardo Loren your legal husband?" he asked. "Yes," Not strictly true. We never officially married in the human way. "Is your maiden name Jones?" "Yes." "Do you have any evidence of your marriage?" He asked.

"It's exhausting." "Boys," my mother said, but her tone was gentle. Not the sharp reprimand she'd give me. "I don't mind answering," Maria said softly. "Sarah Johnson. She's a nurse at the hospital. She's been so kind to me." I watched her face. That perfect, innocent expression. Not a crack in it. "Hannah, leave her alone," Michael said. "She just got home from volunteering with sick kids. Can you not be suspicious for five minutes?"

If Jonathan was walking the same path as my dear husband, Gavin always took the alternate route that didn’t have Jonathan’s footprint. I never really met him in person, but there was some bizarre rumor about this person who was challenging to have faith in me. He was married to an actress, Sarah Stephens, an Oscar-winning A-list actress who received a lot of love from the world for her solid performances and down-to-earth behavior. Jonathan and Sarah were the power couple with good looks, money, fame, and a happy family that most people didn’t know the definition of. But they were, according to Sarah’s numerous interviews. The pathway she used to describe her marriage to her husband was quit

And she was caught between. John stepped forward. “You’re not a weapon. You’re not their queen, You’re Sarah.” Her lips parted, but her voice was layered, hers, and something deeper. “I was Sarah. But she died the night the spiral touched her.” “No,” John snapped, chest tightening. “You made it. You chose me.” She blinked, almost confused. A memory tried to surface laughter, late night talks in the cave, her fingers in his hair, the moment she kissed him under the blood moon.

he replied. “Phew!” Sarah sighed in deep frustration. “She's dead. I'll explain that to you when we get you out of prison.” “My beautiful wife,” Louis shook his head in disbelief and grief. “Getting me out of here demands a lot of money for bail,” Louis said. “That's not going to be a hard thing for us,” Sarah said cheerfully. John's Instincts flared. “Is she the woman you told me about?” “Yes, she is,” I replied.

Philip Sarah, my ex-wife, is now entangled with Bronn Martin. From Amir Benner to a computer software developer, she seems to have a penchant for wealthy men, a fact that stirs a deep-seated fury within me. She still retains a youthful allure, with her sophisticated, wavy brown hair cascading down her back. It struck me that she is now twenty-three, no longer the young teenager who once stood beside me in marriage. Her skin seemed to radiate under the gentle washroom lighting, and she was draped in a seductive dark dress that tempted sinful thoughts.

Her chest heaved with a deep breath as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. “I apologize for being late.” She gave everyone a bright smile. “It's hard to get here during rush hour.” Joanne stepped toward her. “Please give me your name and the total number of shares for the record.” Her throat worked on a hard swallow. “My name is Sarah Corbin, and currently I have eighteen percent of shares at my disposal. Twelve percent as Eleonor Ravenford's representative, and six of my own.” Most of the mouths in the room dropped open while my eyes fixed on her and my chest swelled in pure admiration.