Italian Romance Novels Novels & Stories

Luca said softly, and Elena felt her resolve weakening. "You wish," she muttered, trying to resist his charm. Luca's laughter followed her as she walked away, heading to the bathroom. * * As the days went by, Elena and Luca's arrangement seemed to be working. They had managed to keep their hands off each other for two whole days, an impressive feat considering their undeniable attraction to one another. However, their willpower was put to the test on the third day after a Romano event. Earlier that day, the Romano family had been celebrating their 70th anniversary. Elena had dressed in a stunning red flowing gown that Luca had bought for her.

Dante asked, his fingers caressing her cheek gently in contrast to his intense stare at her. "I... I am just curious" Mireille mumbled a response. "Fine. I will satisfy your curiosity once and for all, Principessa" he looked deeply into her eyes that seemed to be urging him to tell her the truth about how much he loved her. "I, Dante Romano have never ever fallen in love..." His gaze dropped to her lips as he could no longer stand looking into her eyes. "And I will never fall in love so those who love themselves and don't want their hearts broken ensure they don't love me"

Penelope asked and the woman bobbed her head again. “It started a long time ago when your great-great-grandfather was in love with a werewolf girl, Liam. They were not mates, but lovers. It was a time when werewolves and Lycans lived together in peace. Their love bloomed so greatly that everybody was jealous of how beautiful their love was and they all took them as their role models. They wanted to get married and live happily together but everything changed when the werewolf girl found her mate, as destined by the Moon Goddess."

"Why? Because you’re the lover who has been chasing him all your life?" The words sliced straight through my defenses. "You don’t have to say it like that!" I gasped, the humiliation turning into white-hot anger. "What is wrong with you? Are you broken?" "Definitely not," Roman replied, completely unfazed by my outburst. "Just trying to understand how a bride could be running around with a man who doesn’t love her." "Says you, who has barely been around to tell!" I shot back. "Everyone knows, Gianna."

I hadn't done anything wrong, yet I was expected to grovel and plead like a dog begging for scraps. The villa's AC was cranked up high, but the ice cream cake sitting on the coffee table was already starting to melt. Just like my marriage to Ryan. No matter how hard I tried to hold us together, the cracks just kept growing. I reached out, scooped a little melted ice cream onto my finger, and put it in my mouth. The sweetness did nothing to mask the bitterness inside me. Ryan and I had been married for three years.

Or worse: why do I want him to? Every night, she told herself she despised him. Every night, she whispered the names of the lives Matteo had ruined, the promises he had broken. But the memory of his mouth on hers slithered through her defenses like smoke. Her silence became a war zone, and Matteo was winning it without lifting a blade. Far from Bianca’s room, the underworld sharpened its teeth. The kiss, the dance, the whispers of intimacy it had spread like wildfire through Romano territories. In backroom bars, in smoke-thick gambling dens, in hushed conversations at poker tables, Matteo Romano’s downfall had acquired a name.

He would put on an apron and research recipes whenever I said I had no appetite, and he would hold me and sing me lullabies whenever I could not sleep. They said the heir to the mafia family was cold and heartless, because he saved all his warmth for me. I once thought his warmth was mine forever, too. Now, though, I knew that this marriage was just another way for him to shield and protect Summer. “Oh, right,” Victor said casually, pushing a lock of hair behind my ear.

He probably addresses every other girl like that. "Oh sweetheart, I know that. But I'll call you what I want." I gave up. It was no use arguing, he'd win. "What type of girl do they usually keep around?" "They don't keep girls." I knitted my brows, "You quoted and I asked. Stop confusing me." "I'm not, sweetheart. Well, long story short, Italian men are mostly attracted to Italian women or Latinas. Our women are more daring and bold, so naturally we love them. You're Americano and you're the youngest I've seen them with, so you see?"

The whole house was boring and the atmosphere was gloomy, I decided to go into the study, when I was in there with Damon I could recall seeing romance novels on the bookshelf. I am a true lover of romantic novels, they get your spirit high with the sexiness of the male lead and gracefulness of the female but one thing that lacks in all romantic plot is that all are the same, there hasn't been anything new but who cares...... While I checked the bookshelf I notice a couple of erotic novels in there, you should know that I am very happy.

She happily exited his mansion. While a small smirk didn't leave his lips for even a once. Now it was a time for him to claim what was his. Not every love brings roses and sweets. Some prefer thorns and poison. ______________________________________ The Italian that I am using in the book is from G****e translate so maybe there will be some errors. _____________________________________ Next will be updated soon. Do like and give feedback. Spread the purple heart.