An Italian Affair: Amanda Burns Journeys Through Italy For A Second Chance In Love

An Italian Affair sweeps readers into a tale of rediscovery, love, and seizing life's opportunities. This scorching-hot romance explores the lingering desires and passionate encounters between two lovers--Julia and Stefano. Encouraged by loyal friends, she embarks on a leap of faith, returning to Italy to reconnect with a love that has lingered in her heart for 25 years. The novel explores whether time and destiny align to rekindle a romance that once bloomed amid the cobblestone streets and whispered promises of Italy. Italy's allure beckons her to rekindle a 25-year-old love story. Friends unite, pushing her to take a life-changing leap of faith. The novel delves into the Can love transcend time? Cobblestone streets bear witness to whispered vows and long-lost passion. Explores destiny's role in reigniting enduring romance.

Here's an excerpt from Amanda Burns' An Italian Affair

The streets of Verona were cool in the quiet of the early morning. The sun was up and the tops of the buildings glowed with the promise of heat. At the bottom of the steps was a small bar. Stepping inside she ordered a coffee macchiato.  A few sips and she was done.

The steps leading up to the castle were quiet. Julia took her time, wanting to arrive looking presentable, rather than flustered. She stopped to gaze at the view. Of all the places she knew in Italy, Verona was her favorite. A psychologist would probably call that year in Verona a formative experience, and they would be right. Italy had found its way into her heart. Perhaps it had been a key. A way of finding herself or part of herself. Her studies. Her work. Her thoughts about the world. Italian, her second language. And him. 

Verona was where he had opened her heart. And then crushed it, she reminded herself. Just like he was doing right now. Perhaps she should be raging at him for deceiving her. For wooing her back into love with him all through the last year. For making her feel things for him that she had put away in that box of old memories. But the anger wouldn’t come. She could feel the numbness hovering around the edges of her consciousness.
Protective. Comfortable. She had pulled it around her when Hugh died. When things were difficult with the children, it had helped her find a space to meet their rage with a semblance of calm. She had used it as a guard when she needed to push Lars away. Julia could feel it now, calling her heart like a siren. Resistance was all she could do now. This trip had been about dispelling that numbness. Stepping out into the world and risking feeling. Risking love. She did not want to live a life where she retreated into that space again. She wanted love. To love and to be loved. “Maybe a lake,” she said to herself. “But not numb.” 
The sound of a scooter behind her made her turn. There he was. And there was no rage, no anger, no numbness. Only love. 
Stefano thought it would be safer to see her in public. He would try not to touch her, try not to take her in his arms and make love to her again. Because he couldn’t give her what she wanted. To make love with her again would just be selfish. It would be wrong. He knew it would take all his willpower, but it was all he could do. For her. For himself and for the people in their lives that depended on them. But he had not taken into account the memories that overwhelmed him as he took the road up past the old hostel. They flooded his mind as he rounded the corner and saw her standing there. Silhouetted against the morning light. He remembered a night; she had come up to the hostel toward the end of the day. They would eat together, a group of them. Drinking wine and laughing, planning which bar they would go to. Often there was music.

That night they had all stayed at the hostel longer than usual. He remembered, he had walked past her and made some comment. She had looked at him with a smile that pierced straight to his heart. He took her hand, excusing her from the group. Telling them he had something he needed her for. And he did. He pulled her into the kitchen and locked the door. She had held him tightly as their breathing returned to normal. His face buried in her neck where he had tried to muffle his voice. They left the kitchen, Julia’s hair falling around her shoulders. Dishevelled would be the right way to describe them. As they stepped back into the common room, it was probably clear to everyone what he had needed her for. A small smile had played on Julia’s lips as they walked through to the reception area and out into the night. He would want her again before the dawn came. Unable to leave her alone no matter how hard he tried.
It was a memory that did not help him now.
They stood together as he pointed out the roof tops of various places and pieced together the movements of the past they had shared. He seemed so reserved. As though he was holding himself. As if a sudden movement might startle him. Startle him into what? Julia wondered.
The bittersweet feeling of this meeting threatened to overwhelm her at times. She was fighting down tears and trying to bite back words. Questions she already knew the answers to. Answers that made her feel despair. Sick. But she would hold it together because there was no other way. But she allowed herself to lean into him. To touch him. Trying to bring all her senses to bear. To remember this.
They sat for a while on the wall, warmed from the sun. It was there. He could feel it. The crackle of longing that flowed between them. Julia beside him, angled toward him. Running her fingers through his hair. 
“They are not like before,” he said.
Julia smiled at the translation, “No but they are still beautiful.” 
He tried not to think about that time in the kitchen where she had tangled her fingers in his hair. He spoke about an issue he had with his leg. Trying to think of something to distract himself from her hands. Her nearness. Trying to find ways to help her turn her face from him. She moved and then she was standing in front of him, cupping her hands around his face and bringing her mouth to his. Sympathy in her kiss. Maybe some sadness. She pointed to the scar that encircled her neck.
“This scar,” she said, “is from thyroid cancer. I have to take medicine every day to keep me alive.”
“What does the thyroid do?” he asked.
“Metabolism. Keeps everything working in the body. I have to take the hormones that I can no longer make for my metabolism and something to keep any rogue cells dormant.” She laughed to make light of it. “I have to take a little more than I need. It should mean I can eat more chocolate! But it doesn’t really.”
They were both quiet for a moment. It was something to know the fallibility that came with age. When they met, they were young, there had been no room for that. Now it was different. Stefano looked at Julia. He saw in her face that it made no difference to her. That she would be there for him, no matter what happened. His heart felt full. He knew it was no small offering she made. Unspoken though it was. She had faced death already. Her own and someone she loved.

Extracted with permission from Amanda Burns' An Italian Affair; published by Fingerprint Publications