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Beautiful Adeline A Mafia Romance Novel

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Cuando el Amor Llega Tarde
Oleh: Webfic Romántica—Señor Fernández, felicidades por pasar la entrevista en línea de nuestra empresa. La oferta ya ha sido enviada a su correo. Le pedimos que se incorpore en Londres dentro de dos semanas. ¿Tiene alguna pregunta? —la voz al otro lado del teléfono, con un acento inglés impecable, provenía de un hombre al otro lado del Atlántico. —Ningún problema, estaré allí a tiempo. —Vicente Fernández respondió sin dudar, con firmeza y serenidad. Apenas colgó el teléfono, el sonido del pomo de la puerta girando llamó su atención. Leticia Gutiérrez entró al cuarto con su andar decidido y, sin rodeos, le extendió una bolsa de papel, —Ayer surgió un imprevisto en la firma y no pude pasar el Año Nuevo contigo. Espero que no estés molesto. —su tono era sincero, pero no parecía esperar una respuesta. Vicente tomó la bolsa y la abrió. Dentro, al fondo de la bolsa, descansaba solitaria una pulsera de madera de sándalo. No había esfuerzo alguno en la presentación, ni siquiera una envoltura adecuada para la ocasión. Aquella pulsera, aunque costosa, no lo era por sí misma, sino por el conjunto al que pertenecía. Era un regalo accesorio de otra pulsera hecha de valiosa madera de agar. El hecho de que esta pulsera estuviera allí significaba que Leticia había adquirido el juego completo. Sin embargo, había decidido regalarle a él solo el complemento. Si no fuera por las fotos que Pedro González le envió ayer, donde se veía una pulsera de agar de gran tamaño y calidad sobresaliente, Vicente jamás habría sospechado. Cinco años de relación y su novia había optado por regalarle a él el accesorio y a otra persona el verdadero tesoro.
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HOT COFFEE (Completed)
Oleh: Webfic Emma Cole, a nerd in high school and untouched all throughout her life at a community college, was abandoned by her birth parents and grew up in foster care homes all around New York. Whenever her name was mentioned, the people who knew her laughed and called her foul names, since she looked like the female version of Steve Urkel and was easy to pick on and belittle. She had no sense of style. All she wore were big dresses that hid her tiny figure underneath and glasses which didn"t do her eyes any justice. She owned one bag-- a beat-up leather she received as a gift from a spelling bee contest her freshman year in high school.Though she went to school, she had no friends, no family, and no one to teach her about becoming a lady. Emma had done everything by herself since she was one year old-- the age she was dumped by her parents into the foster system.At age twenty three, she lived in a very small apartment by herself. She wasn"t able to land a high-paying job to afford a good house, as of yet. Every time she applied to a vacant position she may have seen in a newspaper in the cafe, they would turn her down when she went to the interviews and the interviewers took one look at her. Appearance was more than her qualifications if she wanted to land a job as a receptionist or personal assistant at one of the big firms in New York City.Emma decided to stop hoping for a better job and stuck with being a waitress at Carl"s Cafe.Her hell on earth.Carl was the manager and owner of the cafe. A grown man, forty-five years old, who had experienced all the things he had chosen to chase in his pathetic life. He was a terrible boss and treated his employees as his personal slaves with low wages. One of his nasty habits was hitting on his female employees while on the job, but he never hit on Emma. Although she was a female, she just wasn"t his type and was too unattractive to even be bothered with.
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Goodbye Scumbag, Hello True Love
Oleh: Webfic all"I'm so over Cassandra." Aidan Ziegler sneers, swirling his wine glass with a lazy smirk. "A real woman is soft and sweet—like Clara. As for her..." In the corner, a glass suddenly shatters in a man's palm. Cassandra Callum stands frozen, holding the cake she made to celebrate their three-year anniversary, eyes locked on the blood trickling down from his sharply defined fingers. Tristan Freeman, head of Freeman Group, slowly wipes his hand clean. His dark gaze sweeps over her tear-reddened eyes. "Ms. Callum, would you like to marry me?" The city explodes with gossip. Everyone thinks a broke little designer has climbed her way into wealth and power— what no one knows is that this marriage is a trap Tristan set five years ago. His private gallery holds over a thousand sketches of her profile—from that day in sophomore year when she crouched in a rainy alley feeding a stray cat, to her backstage at a runway abroad, gently arranging jewelry. Late at night, he stares at security footage, cigarette in hand, as Aidan kneels in a storm, soaked and shaking. Tristan suddenly pulls his delicate wife into his arms. Later, a finance reporter captures the once cold and ruthless Tristan, down on one knee before Cassandra. His hands tremble as he holds a pregnancy test. Cassandra flashes her wedding ring and laughs softly. "Surprised, Mr. Freeman?" Tristan, once known for being sharp and vicious, blinks back tears, then presses a trembling kiss to the faded mark on her ring finger. "Cassie, when you were 22, I wanted to say..." "Say what?" He leans in, his voice hoarse as he whispers, "The cake was really sweet."
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