Goodreads Italia Novels & Stories

the voice from the other line says, with a heavy Italian accent, similar to Marcellos, "Wait what? Why? I didn't even do anything," "No you didn't brother," she said in a sarcastic tone, "Mi hai messo su? la mia vita è più in pericolo ora idiota." ( You put me up? my life is in more danger now idiot!)

Only smelled old woodsy smell and nothing gross like rotten flesh or skin. And so I flip it open. I blink once, twice at the words written on the first page. “What is this?” I flip through the book seeing more of the same gibberish writing. “Niko…” I hold the book out to him flopping down on the couch beside him. Looking away from his computer, he takes it from me, his eyes smiling as he pops it open between two fingers and reads the words out loud. “Le regole della famiglia.” “It’s written in Italian?” I blink at him.

“Actually….I didn't… well I haven't.” “You haven't what?” The title I couldn't read it, it wasn't very clear,” I said hoping I was right, it was an old book after all and there was no title on the thick back so maybe it had faded. “Really? Let me see,” he said, stretching his hand towards me. I handed him the book and he opened it to the front page. “Ooh! La Divina Commedia, it's an Italian classic…how couldn't you read this? It's very clear,” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

Fiction along the lower shelves, wider range than I expected — literary, contemporary, a collection of Italian novels in the original that I pulled out with genuine pleasure. I spent two hours there. Working through my reviews at the desk he had indicated was mine, surrounded by his books, in the apartment that was mine now, on the first morning of being Aria Vitale. At eleven, Luca texted. How’s married life? Don’t answer if it’s boring. If it’s interesting, I need details. I smiled. It’s the first morning. First impressions matter. He made you coffee, right? It was already made when I got there.

I had read ten chapters and the book had fifty chapters, it was obvious I wasn't going to finish today so I closed the book to give myself a break. I placed the book down and then looked outside the window where I could see the red Ferrari 458 Italia that contrasted from the vintage looking stores. I turned my head to Salvatore who I saw was still reading and this time had on a pair of reading glasses. I fought a smile but it broke through, he looked so damn old and adorable.

I wanted to taste him! “Miss?” His voice snapped me out of my daze, and I smiled awkwardly. “Hello! Welcome to Paradiso Galleria. My name is Luca Fabbri,” he said, extending his hand. Ohh… He’s Italian! No wonder his sex appeal was off the charts! I’d never been with an Italian before. I had slept with a Frenchman once during a trip to Paris. He had a huge package, but sexually, he was disappointing. But I’d heard Italian men had mad skills in bed, though they were also notorious womanizers.

19-04-2024. Hi guys, I'm now taking the time to edit the book properly now that I have the right tools to do so. Here are a few Italian words Luca uses throughout story I have translated into English. I will continue to update the list as I go through the book. Thanks! Si = Yes. Salve = Hi. Cara mia = My beloved. Caro mia = My darling. Tesoro = Treasure. Merda= Shit/ Crap.

"When she has her mind set she doesn't stop." "Italian Men," I tease. "They are so protective." I kiss Nic's cheek and he tries to hold back a grin. "I'll see you in three days." "Three days," he nod. "Addio Bella." Translations: Sei il peggiore- you are the worst Ti amo- I love you Addio Bella- Bye beautiful Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to leave any feedback. I love you all ❤️

He glances at me, waiting. “You okay?” he asks, the cheer dimming just a little. “You don’t have your… eh… sparkle. No luce in your eyes.” I smile faintly. “Italy wasn’t… nice.” His brows jump. “Italy? Not nice? Ma che dici? You were in a mansion, no? With vineyards and wine and the Lior? How is that not nice?” I shrug. “It just wasn’t.” He huffs, clearly struggling with the concept. “Okay, but the sun? The food? The… beautiful Italians like me? Still no good?”

The prevailing region is Lombardy and it’s marked by rolling hills and lush valleys. I know this because Lydia is obsessed with Italy and feeding me information while she’s on the subway, heading into work. I’m scrolling in between gazing out the window at the gorgeous, verdant scenery, catching something about Franciacorta being similar to French champagne and more sparkling than prosecco. Basically, she’s telling me to drink lots of it.