Colombian Accent Novels & Stories

I heard Ace mumble something under his breath as he wiggled his way out of Victoria’s tight hold on his arm. “Welcome home, Allegra. Any word on Moskov’s whereabouts?” Marciano asked curiously as he wrapped an arm around Viola's waist. “He’s in Colombia.” I said coldly, as I turned away from Ace. “Barranquilla to be exact.” “How did that fucker manage to weasel his way in Colombia?” My father growled as he ran his hand through his hair. Probably the same way Victoria weaseled her way into this fucking engagement.

– I say, and the Columbian, who seemed to be the boss, looks at the girls. - ¿No compartes las putas con un amigo? (Don't you share the whores with a friend?) -¿Es esto un negocio o una fiesta? (Is this a business or a party?) The Colombian laughs. - ¿Hablas español? (Do you speak Spanish?) - Siempre es bueno saber los idiomas que comercializamos. Pero dejemos de hablar antes de que nos atrapen. (It's always good to know the languages ​​we trade in. But let's stop talking before they catch us.)

He already heard her clearly: "Ey, Katy, this is where it goes down. I think this is where the noise came from, ”said a young man's voice. He spoke English almost fluently, but a slight Spanish accent betrayed his true origins. Damn it, so close. Why hadn't he been able to control himself earlier? In anger, he gritted his teeth at his own stupidity. But it had happened and nothing could be changed.

George waves to them, inviting them over, “Come join us at the fire, it must be cold here compared to what... South America?” Celine raises an eyebrow, “One of them is a macaw, so South America, or the Caribbean. Plus you said they were thinking in something that sounds like Spanish.” He shrugs and she chuckles, moving off his lap to sit next to him. They walk over tentatively. “Thank you.” The accent was definately South American, possibly even Brazillian. They each sit at the fire close together and clearly concerned. Celine smiles at them warmly,

"Do you speak Italian then?" Marshall led me over to the women's section and began rummaging through a rack of blouses. "I speak several languages, angel." "Español?" I asked with a coy grin. "Sí. Tengo muchos amigos en Columbia y México." (Yes. I have many friends in Columbia and Mexico." "Tienes muchos amigos por todo el mundo, aparentemente," I grumbled, plucking a pleated black skirt off a shelf. (You have many friends all over the world, apparently.)

A frightened expression crossed her face as he looked behind his shoulders and smiled at her. "You must be the Colombian girl," he said, his soft voice reminding her of her father’s gentle tone, a feeling that only heightened her unease. Luciana’s face was barely visible, as she tried to smile back at him. Though she had agreed to follow him, doubts now swirled in her mind. Had she just traded one captivity for another? “how did you know I’m Colombian?” she asked as she found courage. “your accent is quite distinct.” He laughed as he placed a cup of coffee in front of her, the aroma reminding her of her days in Colombia as a barista.

She chuckled running away from Jessica's arms. "No te alejes de mí. Es peligroso." Accurately spoke Jessica having Vivana walk back with her ears widely open. "What did you just say?" She inquired getting back impressed. "Don't go far away from me. It's dangerous." Said Jessica again. "That's what I said." "Are you Columbian?" Vivana poked going all around Jessica frisking her. "You won't find Spanish in my pockets." "Where did you get the words? You sounded like Sofia Vergara. Your voice grew even thicker."

“I know Carlson from playing rugby. We played in college together.” “In Paradisa?” I asked. At Freddie's surprised look, I added, “I know Carlson played with the Paradisa Royals during his semester abroad. It would explain the accent.” “I have an accent? What accent?” he asked, face deadpan and serious. And entirely without an accent. I fumbled for a moment, wondering if I had misheard the previous accent to his words. He didn't sound British or Scottish, but it wasn't quite Australian or South African. He chuckled. “Just teasing,” he said, with his original soft lilt on every word. “I'm actually terrible at the American accent. I can't seem to get my 'a's to come out correctly.”

But he spoke into a microphone anyways and she found his deep voice, sexy. Although she was in church and the priest was preaching loudly, her attention wasn't focused on the sermon. Rather, her attention and eyes were at the priest preaching on the pulpit. Apart from his deep and sexy voice that she found attractive, she found his looks attractive too. The priest was a tall, skinny man with a bald head and long moustache, he had no beard. He looked the typical Colombian man and his colombian accent was thick too. She wondered if the man was thick down there too.

“So, Gerard, I guess we can leave on the first day of next month?” “Yep. And Colombia has the same season as we do here in Indonesia in May. Technically, we’ll just fly to another island,” answered Gerard with a piece of information the others have been aware of. “And, Annaliese’s got our back, babe. Colombians don’t speak English that much, but we have a very accountable Spanish speaker here,” Beatrice added. She got up to her feet and put her arm around Annaliese’s shoulder. “Oh, you don’t know how I’m happy to have you as my best friend, Ann.”