One Italian Summer Novels & Stories

“What's your favorite thing about living in Italy?" Giulia beamed, hopping from one foot to the other before she said, "The beach. We always go in summer, and I build sandcastles there. And I also like school. My friends and I play tag at recess. But I like the stories Nonna tells about the old times, with knights and kings. Is New York old like that?"

Alessia The dark, gloomy clouds were a hallmark feature of Italy's weather. If anything else, they sent a cold chill down my spine, solidifying my split-second decision to return to Italy after seeing Grandma’s will in my mail. I was so shocked that I had suffered all that isolation and mistreatment for years when I was never supposed to.

OSTARA’S POV The sun hit different in Italy. That was my first thought when we stepped off the jet in Milan, and the warmth of early spring air kissed my skin. Lighter. Softer. Like someone had turned the world down to a gentler volume. Donna let out a little whoop as the breeze blew through her curls, bouncing on her toes in her little sneakers. “I can already smell pizza,” she announced to no one. Davina raised her sunglasses and smiled. “I told you this kid had priorities.”

“I think we should go out tonight. We can see a movie, then grab a pizza and some beer.” “No pizza for me,” Vanessa said with conviction. “That’s right. How could I have forgotten? Okay, Chinese then?” Alison asked. Vanessa wrinkled her nose. “How about leaving hillbilly hamlet and heading into the big city for a bit of fine dining and a few glasses of wine. I saw an advertisement for an Italian restaurant that recently opened. It’s called Italiano Pristine. I’m assuming by its name that it serves fine food. I could use a good marsala.”

she replies, smiling. Oh, wow, that went better than I thought it would, “Promise? You aren’t just saying that?” I question, “Promise. We are on the same page.” She answers. I instantly relaxed, knowing we were thinking the same, for now, but there was a chance my recent thoughts would reappear, but I will just continue to fight them for the rest of our time because after the summer, we go back to our lives and possibly not see each other. “What do you want to do today?” I ask, “Or do you want to write some more?” I added.

That’s it? “You look nice, too.” I hoped I had misread his tepid energy toward me. “You should catch up with Summer.” He nodded in the direction of the rest of the group. Well,I definitely hadn’t misread the situation. Feeling like a total idiot, I walked ahead to stand with the girls. Summer was telling a story that required her to use her arms in an overly dramatic fashion. I couldn’t pay attention, all I could think about was Marcus and the knot in my stomach. Maybe girls’ night was just what I needed. I could forget all about Alpha Marcus. The destination was a walking distance from the complex. As soon as we entered the classic red and white Italian restaurant, an elderly grey-hair

Summer had used to eat here with some of her friends when she'd been in high school. She was extremely happy to be back there. She found the old food stall she had used to frequent and grabbed James and herself a table. She said, "Mr. Brooks, I'll have one spaghetti aglio e olio and one chicken casserole, please." "Coming right up," answered Tom Brooks, the stall owner. Soon, the food was served. Tom said enthusiastically, "Summie, it's been a long time since I saw you, so I made you an extra large spaghetti aglio e olio tonight."

Summer Love. I didn't think the summer part mattered. Sure we did fall in love during the summer. That doesn't mean I didn't expect it to last past that. It didn't matter to me that he was Nathan Kalis's school-bad boy. To me, he was just Nathan. The man couldn't go more than ten minutes before demanding a kiss. Who always wanted me to cuddle into him. And who loved listening to me read my books out loud.

Sarah stood by the open window, a sense of anticipation coursing through her veins. In just a few moments, she would embark on a journey with Aldo Accardi, the Italian man who had captured her heart. They were about to board his private jet, bound for Milan from Venice, for a weekend getaway that promised adventure and romance. As she double-checked her suitcase, Sarah's phone buzzed, and she saw a text from her friend Julia, who was on her honeymoon. With a smile, she decided to give her a quick call before they took off.

A sun welcomes me unpleasantly. My body heat isn’t normal, yet I tightly wrap my cardigan tight. It's strange that I feel cold amid the summer, and now it's the L.A summer of all places. As though I'm being forced to walk, I take my bags ready to go home. I jump into the first taxi I come across outside. "Where to?" the driver shoots sassily. "Venice," I utter. Home . . . my sweet little home. "Right away," he answers with some kind of enthusiasm that doesn't touch a bit of me.