Italian Romance Books Novels & Stories

I am looking for something appetizing when a young man approaches me with two glasses in hand. “Good evening, Miss! May I offer you a drink?” He is a very handsome and polite man by the way he speaks. “Good evening! Yes, of course, why not?” I take the glass he offers and, before drinking, ask for his name. “Excuse my rudeness, but what is your name?” “My name is Renzo Lombardi. And yours, beautiful lady?”

He held out his hand and took it. He led me into the work study, and at the back I could notice a new bookcase. When I approached it, I was in shock at what he had given me. It was the complete collection of first editions by the most prolific romance authors of the past. I gasped. “I realized Luca's gift was nice, but I thought you might want more,” Alessandro said, his voice husky. “You deserve better.” I touched the books devotedly and looked at Alessandro in complete shock.

Luca sighed sharply, as if the air had been knocked out of him. He lifted her in his arms with a determined motion and carried her to the bed. The rain beat against the roof, and between them could be heard only the silent, broken breaths of longing. Elena unbuttoned his shirt, touching his skin with trembling eagerness. Every scar on his chest told a story. Every sigh of hers was an unspoken story. Luca looked at her long, as if wanting to imprint her completely in his memory—then lowered his mouth to her collarbone, kissing her slowly, patiently. Elena moaned softly, feeling her heart pounding in every inch of her skin.

Badump, badump, badump, my heart thrummed loudly inside my chest. “Pietro, Il primo amore non si scorda mai.” (You never forget your first love) I don’t know how I managed to look straight at her after hearing her confessing to me in Italian. I felt drugged by her voice. “Anyways, L’amore non e bello, se non e litigarello.” (The course of true love never runs smooth). She continued. I don’t know if it’s just me, but it’s really getting hot in here. I can now see that Pericles is right. This really is a bad idea and I’m afraid that Lucrezia is already shooting on my defenses.

Or that they at least, got the wrong impression of her. “They think I don’t like romance?” She asked like there was someone else in the room with her. “Well, I bet they’ve never even messed around with any guy before. They’ve probably never even gotten kissed by a hot guy before and I’m the unromantic one?” “Otherwise they wouldn’t shut up about it. I would have heard stories about it”. “I’ll show them both that I’m not what they think of me”. “I’ll find a hot guy, make out with him and have sex with him”.

Her fake smile was so evident, she couldn't pretend to be okay, but over the months she had improved. 'Dad certainly won't know any peace with his new wife.' "Ana, how are preparing for your exams?" I asked Ana with my brows furrowed, ready to eat her up is she dared to say she hasn't read it a thing. Ana focused more on the web looking for new means to make money. I've often told her to concentrate on her studies first a die in the internet after she graduates. "I've read all my books, bug I'm still going to reverse." She said giving me a sternly look.

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.

“Meanwhile he’s been fucking that girl from his gym for weeks. I found the texts.” Dante’s jaw tightened, but his voice stayed even. “He’s an idiot, Riley. Always has been when it comes to women like you.” His eyes dropped to my mouth for a second, then back up. “You’re young, smart, and you don’t take shit. Any man who can’t see that doesn’t deserve to touch you.” The way he said “touch you” made heat rush through me. I crossed my legs, pressing my thighs together, feeling myself get slick just from the conversation.

She wanted to laugh, to spit the words back at him, but something in his tone held her still. Luca cleared his throat quietly. “Boss, the men are ready for your orders.” Dante didn’t look away from her. “Tell them to wait.” The quiet authority in his voice sent a shiver down her spine. He was steel wrapped in velvet, and she hated how a part of her trembled at his control. Later, she fled to the library. She ran her fingers along the rows of leather-bound books, their spines cold and unfamiliar. She didn’t know half the titles; most were in Italian. She pulled one free, opened it, and found the words blurring before her eyes.

I want her to know how much I want her and want to be with her, but I don’t want to scare her off. “What were you reading on the balcony?” I asked her. “Just a romance book,” she replied. “It’s about a mafia princess who falls in love with a guy in the mafia, but she’s betrothed to someone else. It’s very well written.” “Sounds like a great love story. One you could tell your kids,” I smirked. “Well, probably not all the violence and sex,” Isabella giggled. “True,” I chuckled. “What are you doing tomorrow?” I probed.