Italian Audiobook Novels & Stories

I lay on his chest as we talked . The only light in the room was the tv that was facing our bed . "Teach me some Italian" I chirped , playing with his hand that rested on my waist , pulling me closer to him . "Mm okay" he lay on his other arm . "Cagna is a female dog" . His accent changed when he spoke Italian , it got deeper . "Cagna" I repeated , getting a nod off of Ace . "Sole is the sun" . The words just rolled off tongue like it was effortless. "Sole" i grinned , knowing I pronounced it wrong . "Sad is triste" he rolled his R . I attempted to copy him but he chuckled at me when I failed .

I didn't even need him to complete the sentence for me to sit my pretty butt down. “Entrambi dovrete essere puniti. Prima di mezzogiorno riferiscimi quale dovrebbe essere la tua punizione.” he continued. Audrey bounced from one heel to another then raised her head. (You both will have to be punished. Before noon tell me what your punishment should be.) "Ho deciso la mia punizione," she said. Her Italian accent was perfect. It made her sound even sexier and for a moment I felt a twinge if envy but I quickly slammed it down. (I've decided on my punishment)

She didn’t know what was worse, crying over it thanks to the pregnancy hormones that were driving her insane, or having the Italian look at her like a crying little girl. “So what? What are we waiting to go? Look I’ve already cancelled my meeting for you. The least you can do is let me give you a ride.” “Don’t mess with my head sir,” Melody couldn’t remember what the hell the driver/assistant had called him when he arrived. A name like díaneto or ganetto. The little bell on the door rang and Doyle walked in through it. “Melody, what the hell is...?” Doyle let the question hang in the air as his gaze fell on the Italian, Melody watched as his expression changed from confusion and concern to p

In his line of work, he’d learned quickly that delayed gratification only made collecting his prize that much sweeter. Still, he ducked his head, and with his eyes fixed intently on her luscious mouth, he nudged the tip of her nose with his. “What homework? The only thing you need to know is to let yourself get lost in Italy with a beautiful woman.” He let his voice fall, low and husky, enjoying the noticeable shiver of delight it sent over her. “And to eat your fill of gelato. I’ve already done the first part. We’re in the motherland of gelato, darlin’. Let’s get on with the second.”

“Give him the phone.” Davis obeyed. “Salve, mio amico,” Alessandro’s thick Italian voice filled my ear. I could imagine him standing close to my floor-to-ceiling window, his favorite spot in my office. We conversed smoothly in Italian, a language I had learned at ten. Eventually, I got him to wait a little longer for the documents. I ended the call and got busy. Within minutes I forwarded the file to Davis. Alessandro, a tough nut to crack, was settled.

We’d start with his manners and end with his compassion. “Prego,” Alessandro answered him. I pulled my phone out and instantly downloaded a translation app. There was no chance in hell I would ever not understand what my son was saying. “Get me one too,” Ella muttered under her breath, her eyes on my phone. I nodded, and once I purchased for both of us, I started the d******d process. I would learn perfect Italian, if it was the last thing that I did.

◆ MILES ◆ Florence, Italy "Quando penso che meno incompetente di così non si può essere..." Thump. Thud. "Leo, w-we tried everything!" said a panicking British man's voice. "Gave them two times their cut!" "Imbeciles!" Bump. Whack. Glass shattering. "I wouldn't— W-Why would I—" "D'ora in poi, figlio di puttana!" "Stop! No— Leo!"

He introduced himself as Professor Rossi, a tutor specializing in European history and languages. Professor Rossi, a scholar with a kind, if somewhat nervous, demeanor, began her lessons in Italian. Amara, with her innate linguistic aptitude from her art history studies, picked it up quickly. He taught her the nuances of Tuscan Italian, the rapid-fire cadence of Neapolitan dialect, and even the archaic intricacies of old Sicilian. He spoke of Italian history, not just of its grand empires, but of its fractured states, its hidden societies, its long tradition of secret power. Amara listened, absorbed, realizing that every lesson was subtly interwoven with the very fabric of the Moretti empire

You're a crazy woman) Alex picked up a book from the backseat and began to read. I bent down to take a look at the book he was reading and behold it was a book of Italian languages and translation. "How do you say mother in Italian?' I asked, curiously. "𝑀𝑎𝑑𝑟𝑒." He mumbled without looking up at me. "Hmm." I grinned. "Easy. That means father would be Fadre." I chuckled.

“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.