One Italian Summer Novels & Stories

I immediately realised I didn't even know where my phone was. “So your mother asked us to come because you got engaged?” I was confused. “Of course. She said she'd like to know more about you, so she'd appreciate it if we spent the summer back home” he was acting like a child that just won a prize. “The whole of summer?” “Yep, the whole of summer. But don't worry baby, you'd love Italy” I raised my eyebrow and looked at him “I AM from Italy” “I know, I meant you'd love where I'm from, Bellagio” he gave me a kiss on the forehead and sat down to eat.

She slurs her words and lifts her eyebrow. “Absofuckinglutely. I call bullshit.” I say before crushing an ice-cube between my teeth. “I see the swear jar’s off to a good start this week too.” Vanessa giggles. “Struth.” Vanessa laughs at my attempt and Australian slang. “Yeah gurl!” I turn my attention to my right where the Marcos talk rapidly in Italian. I miss Italy. Man, I’m hungry. Mm, caprese salad. The warm, sweet, sun kissed tomatoes, fresh basil, olive oil. Such a simple dish, the only choice for a sweltering day like this.

God what a gentleman he is, and as much as I didn't paint myself as a damsel in distress right now as he carries me down the hall I don't mind it at all. "So what are we eating?" Domenic asked as he lowered me on a chair and Summer and Anthony came behind us laughing. "Well while you were occupied, Anthony and I made pasta carbonara." Summer said as she distributed plates around the table while Anthony went to get the pasta from the kitchen island. "You made it?" Domenic asked Summer sarcastically while standing behind me and massaging my shoulders. "Fine, I helped grate the pecorino romano." Summer reluctantly says. "She called the cheese by its government name, she must be a professional."

Yet somehow… my mind still drifted toward a stubborn eighteen-year-old girl with pink bandages and reckless eyes. Ava. Even after three days away from her, she still found a way into my thoughts like she belonged there. And that was the real problem. I exhaled sharply and grabbed the whiskey bottle from the table, pouring another glass. Outside, Pasadena glittered beneath the night sky. Beautiful. But inside the hotel suite, I already knew the truth. This summer was becoming dangerous in ways I never expected.

Summer turned to face me as she pulled me to a stop and said, “He is the Italian mobster, who deals in illegal weapons and he is also the one who kinda saved the day back when Gabriel, me and Raphael were in danger.” “Then, he is a friend.” I said. “No. He is not.” Summer answered. “He just had an interest in killing the Mexicans and he has some sort of cold, friendly type rivalry going on with Ellison’s husband Brandon, but he is not particularly a friend, Rica. And now I have the feeling you have turned him into an enemy.” “Oh…” I murmured but then shrugged, “Well then, he’ll probably go back to Italy to mob around and we are not going to see him again. So chill out.”

It was his, he was the one who was expert at it so I said, “Why don't you play, it had been too long since I heard you.” Summer was the one who stepped forward and asked with a surprised expression on her face, “You learned to play keyboard in Italy?” I nodded. “I wasn’t really a captive, Summer.” I wanted to really let her know that I hadn’t suffered at Antonio’s hand. Sure, he had tested my limits, made me question everything when it came to the unreasonable attraction between us and he had often times manipulated me but I think it didn’t matter because I went with it knowingly. She swallowed. I watched as she went through her thoughts and then smiled. “Then do play for us.”

"You fucking Italians thought that I was going to forget about my father's death, You Italian whore!" Igor's eyes were shining in rage as he eyed Aria from head to toe. Aria was silently watching Igor's every movement. Her instinct told her that she had to defend herself today. And not only herself but her baby too.

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

I then slammed shut my computer laying my head on top of it. But, why should I stress myself out so much? I’m literally getting a free holiday. Free. I get to explore different places and maybe meet some people I could start a friendship with or more who knows. I may have a little summer fling. I’ll drink. I’ll go out. I could benefit from this trip. I deserve a little break from that place, don't I? I most definitely do. To just state the obvious I work hard, I have a job where I have to work then after I get home from my work I become a single mom raising a kid so a free trip to Italy is something very well deserved and something I need. Maybe I could end up finding myself or whatever the

And her family was worth everything. Rumors of a Summit The late afternoon sun streamed through the windows of Massimo's office as Julia sat across from him, Isabella playing quietly with her dolls on the plush carpet nearby. At nearly three years old, her daughter had grown into a beautiful child with dark curls that caught the light and eyes that seemed to hold secrets beyond her years. Massimo was on the phone, his voice low and controlled, but Julia could hear the tension beneath his words. She'd learned to read the subtle shifts in his mood over the years—the tightening of his jaw, the way his fingers drummed against his desk, the dangerous glint in his dark eyes. "I understand," Massim