Sweet Poison – Mafia Romance Read Online Georgia Le Carre

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Mafia Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85569 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)


There's a new man in town. He rolled in with his little girl a few days ago. A real head turner tall, dark, and impossibly dashing…

He sure turned my head one hot night not so long ago... and oh my, what a night it was? I waited for him to call, but he didn't. I get it. It was just a one night stand.

Naturally, he's sent all the unmarried ladies in our little town into a baking frenzy. See who can impress him the most with their sweet smiles and their 'welcome' cakes. Some of those smiles are pretty sultry and the cakes are finger lickin good too, I’ll give them that, but I have a feeling they haven't got a hope in hell of roping him.

He's a wild horse. He ain't staying.

He wears baseball caps and jeans from Target, and he drives the plainest plain Jane of them all, a beat-up, gray Chevy Impala, but he doesn’t fool me. Not one bit. In fact, going to all that trouble to pretend he’s Mr. Ordinary makes me even more suspicious.

One look into those mysterious blue eyes and I know he’s hiding something. Something big.

He says he’s an accountant and folk who've used his services claim he knows his stuff, that he legally saved them a whole bunch of money.

But I keep thinking, why does a law-abiding accountant need a specially built panic room in his house?

Something’s not right, but when he touches me, he lights a fire inside me that burns so bright and beautiful I can't help myself. I forget… the man’s not for keeps. And he's gonna break my heart into little itsy-bitsy pieces.
A Full Length Standalone Novel.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************



“Shall we practice one more time, honey?”

My daughter chewed her bottom lip and nodded solemnly. “Okay.”

“What is your name?”

She folded her little arms in front of her. “Anya Swift.”

“Good. And your father’s name?”

“Cole. Cole Swift.”

“Very good,” I encouraged, with a smile. “And if anybody asks you where you come from?”

“Manhattan,” she said clearly.

“Did you live in a big house with a housekeeper and maids or a small apartment?”

“A small apartment.”

“What floor was the apartment?”

She looked upwards. “Mmm… Fifth floor.”

“Have you ever had a chauffeur?” I threw at her suddenly.


“What about a gardener or a nanny?”

She shook her head decisively. “Never.”

“Excellent. Why have you and your father moved to Bison Ridge?”

“Because he wanted me to attend the brilliant Shadow Wolf Academy.”

I grinned at the creative addition of brilliant in her answer. “Well done. Where did you go to school in Manhattan?”

“The Avenue Sc-,” she began to say.

But I shook my head slightly, and she immediately covered her mouth with both hands and said, “Oops. Sorry, Daddy.”

“It’s okay,” I reassured gently. “You have enough time to get this right. Try again.”

“I was home-schooled.”

I nodded. “That’s better. What does your father do for a living?”

“He’s an accountant. He files other people’s taxes for them.”

I nodded approvingly. “Next question, where is your mother?”

Her expression remained unchanged, but her voice felt robotic. “My mother abandoned my father and me.”

“And if anybody asks for more information about her, what will you say?”

“It’s hard for me to talk about my mom. Can we talk about something else, please.”

I touched her little nose with my finger. “Good answer. What about your grandparents? Where are they?”

She looked sideways at me. “They live in Miami?”

“Exactly. But don’t look as if you’re unsure. Try again. Say it naturally. You don’t want to make anyone suspicious, do you?”

She shook her head vigorously. “No.”

“Where do your grandparents live?” I repeated.

“They live in Miami.”

“That’s much better.” I was smiling at her, but inside I was dying. A part of me was floating above us and watching what I was doing in disbelief. I was purposely and deliberately ruining my own daughter, teaching her to lie with a straight face… but there was no other choice. It was this and survival or death.

I couldn’t look her in the eye another second longer. I glanced at my watch. “I think that’s enough for tonight. Looks like it’s your bedtime anyway.”

“Will Mommy ever come back to see us?”

My heart broke for her. “I don’t know, honey. She’s busy with her new life. Maybe one day, when you’re older you can go visit her, huh?”



She looked down at a blue button on her dress. “I know Mommy is busy with her new life and she doesn’t have time for us anymore, but will you check up on her sometimes and make sure she’s alright.”

At that moment I felt so angry with Arianna. How easily she had abandoned her own daughter. I nodded. “I will. Now, bed.”



She took a deep breath. “When we go to the new place, to Bison Ridge, to start our new life, you won’t leave me like Mommy did, will you?”

Fierce love filled my heart. I looked deeply into her big sad eyes. “Never. I will never ever leave you, Anya. Do you understand me?”

She nodded gravely. “Yes.”

I smiled at her. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me for the rest of your life. And when you get married, I’m moving in with you and your husband.”

And just like that she switched from being sad and started giggling softly. “Where will you sleep?”

“Under your bed,” I said, and grabbing her began to tickle her belly while she wriggled and laughed uncontrollably. I stopped when she began gasping for breath. Gently, I stroked her soft hair. “Bedtime, Princess.”

“Um… one last thing, Daddy.”


“Can I take my butterfly shoes with us? They’re my favorite and I don’t think I can bear to leave them behind.”

“Darling, we can’t take anything from this life with us. Nothing that will remind us, or trip us up. Remember we’re not supposed to be rich. You never went to an expensive preschool, and never owned any designer gear.”

“What about if I scuff them so that no one can see that they’re expensive?”

Looking at her hopeful face made me feel incredibly sad for her. It was wrong and it was dangerous to make concessions, but I couldn’t say no to her. It was such a tiny thing she was asking.

“All right. You can bring the shoes with you, and you don’t have to scuff them. If anybody asks, just tell them they’re fakes from Hong Kong, okay? We bought them at a flea market.”

“Yay! I’ll tell everybody they’re fakes from Hong Kong,” she repeated, beaming with innocent joy.

“And now, it really is bedtime. Go brush your teeth and get into your PJs and I’ll come to read you a story and kiss you goodnight.”