Our Italian Summer Read online

  Praise for the novels of

  Jennifer Probst

  “Achingly romantic, touching, realistic, and just plain beautiful.”

  —New York Times bestselling author Katy Evans

  “Tender and heartwarming.”

  —#1 national bestselling author Marina Adair

  “Beautiful . . . and so well written! Highly recommend!”

  —New York Times bestselling author Emma Chase

  “Jennifer Probst pens a charming, romantic tale destined to steal your heart.”

  —New York Times bestselling author Lori Wilde

  “Probst tugs at the heartstrings.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “I never wanted this story to end! Jennifer Probst has a knack for writing characters I truly care about—I want these people as my friends!”

  —New York Times bestselling author Alice Clayton

  “For a . . . fun-filled, warmhearted read, look no further than Jennifer Probst!”

  —New York Times bestselling author Jill Shalvis

  “Jennifer Probst never fails to delight.”

  —New York Times bestselling author Lauren Layne

  Titles by Jennifer Probst

  The Sunshine Sisters Series

  Love on Beach Avenue

  Temptation on Ocean Drive

  Stay Series

  The Start of Something Good

  A Brand New Ending

  All Roads Lead to You

  Something Just Like This

  Begin Again

  Billionaire Builders Series

  Everywhere and Every Way

  Any Time, Any Place

  Somehow, Some Way

  All or Nothing at All

  Searching For . . . Series

  Searching for Someday

  Searching for Perfect

  Searching for Beautiful

  Searching for Always

  Searching for You

  Searching for Mine

  Searching for Disaster

  Marriage to a Billionaire Series

  The Marriage Bargain

  The Marriage Trap

  The Marriage Mistake

  The Book of Spells

  The Marriage Merger

  The Marriage Arrangement

  Nonfiction

  Write Naked

  BERKLEY

  An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

  penguinrandomhouse.com

  Copyright © 2021 by Triple J Publishing Inc.

  Readers Guide copyright © 2021 by Triple J Publishing Inc.

  Penguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.

  BERKLEY and the BERKLEY & B colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Probst, Jennifer, author.

  Title: Our Italian summer / Jennifer Probst.

  Description: First edition. | New York: Berkley, 2021.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2020025342 (print) | LCCN 2020025343 (ebook) | ISBN 9780593098462 (trade paperback) | ISBN 9780593098479 (ebook)

  Subjects: LCSH: Domestic fiction. | GSAFD: Love stories.

  Classification: LCC PS3616.R624 O87 2021 (print) | LCC PS3616.R624 (ebook) | DDC 813/.6—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020025342

  LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020025343

  First Edition: January 2021

  Cover image by Andrea Comi / Getty Images

  Cover design by Sarah Oberrender

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  pid_prh_5.6.1_c0_r0

  Contents

  Cover

  Praise for the Novels of Jennifer Probst

  Titles by Jennifer Probst

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Epigraphs

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Note to Reader

  Acknowledgments

  Readers Guide

  About the Author

  This book is dedicated to my mom, my aunt Rosemary, and my niece Taylor. I learned so much about myself on our epic trip to Italy. Thank you for showing me how much love and family mean in this life. I tried to keep our secrets, but some may have spilled out for the good of the story.

  Don’t worry—I never told WHO.

  And in memory of my grandmother. I still remember sipping coffee with you in the kitchen while you tried to teach me how to speak Italian. You asked me to do two things: study Italian in school, and one day visit your homeland. I’m so happy I did both—you were always there with us in spirit during our trip.

  Finally, for those who dream of big adventures, I wish you the wings you need in order to jump and take a risk.

  Love is usually waiting.

  Italy is a dream that keeps returning for the rest of your life.

  —Anna Akhmatova

  The journey not the arrival matters.

  —Unknown

  CHAPTER ONE

  Francesca

  “No, I said the deadline is Wednesday. That gives you two days to give me a decent hook or I’m pulling you off the account.”

  I ignored the glint of resentment in the young man’s green eyes, wondering if he thought his charm and good looks trumped talent. In many places, they did. But not in my company.

  I gave him credit for smothering the emotion immediately and forcing a smile. “Got it. I’ll get it done.”

  I nodded. “I know you will.”

  He left my office with his shoulders squared, and I wondered what would eventually triumph—pride or the drive for success. He was young and had promise, so I hoped the latter for him. Pride was good in some cases, but working on a team to retain
high-powered advertising accounts required the ability to do what it took, whether it was working with someone you didn’t care for or swallowing the innate instinct to push back at the boss you hated.

  Of course, he didn’t hate me. At least not yet. It was hard to take orders from a woman who was blind to looks, charisma, or flattery. I’d learned that lesson early—and ran my F&F Advertising with a ruthless efficiency and cold-mannered sharpness that made me one of the best in the business. I’d even managed to snag a spot on the Top Ten Women to Watch in Business list from Fortune magazine.

  Too bad I had no time to enjoy it.

  I glanced at my watch, my mind furiously clicking over the day’s crammed schedule. I’d have to work late again, but it’d be worth it once I nailed this new account. I headed to the conference room for a meeting with my team, my sensible low-heeled shoes clicking on the hardwood floor. Layla and Kate were already perched at the polished table, laptops fired up and endless papers strewn around.

  “Morning, boss,” Kate said, motioning toward the chair next to her. “Figured we’d be eating lunch in again, so I had Jessica get your usual.”

  “Thanks.” I took a sip of my Voss water as I sat beside them. I lived on water and grilled chicken salads, which was the easiest fuel to shove into my body on limited time. “Where’s Adam?”

  “Running late,” Layla said, shooting me a smile. “But I don’t think we need him for the brainstorming session. Better to get his feedback on the social media after we have a few solid concepts.”

  “True. He didn’t look too thrilled with our new product.”

  Kate quirked a brow. “He’s been begging to sell something sexier than kids’ lemonade.”

  Layla snorted. “I told him anyone can sell sex—it’s not even a challenge. If he makes this work, he’s a genius.”

  I laughed. “You always did know how to motivate him, Layla.”

  My valued art director preened. “Plenty of practice in the ranks of hell. At least it was good for something.”

  Layla had graduated at the top of her class and planned to take Manhattan by storm. Unfortunately, like me, she ended up with a slew of crap jobs, and being a black woman in the industry meant encountering prejudices to overcome. We’d worked together for a few years before I ventured out to create my own company, and I knew she’d be the perfect art director for F&F Advertising.

  I trusted her with both my business and my personal shit. It was the best decision I ever made.

  Kate was my advertising manager and my other right hand. She wore tailored designer suits, and her blond hair was pulled back tight in a chignon, emphasizing her classic bone structure. I had to admit, when I first met Kate, I thought she was too beautiful and quiet to be successful in such a cutthroat business, but she soon proved me wrong, and now I never discriminate based on looks. I made sure I hired a diverse, multicultural team, treated them like royalty, and offered enough incentives for promotion. It proved a good move, since I had low turnover and a core of hard-won talent.

  Lately, I’d been thinking of offering them both a full partnership. My little boutique company was finally on the verge of exploding, and I needed people I trusted by my side. I had been intent on not bringing in partners, but now I saw that if I wanted to really grow, it was time I took the leap. Plus, I considered these women friends. They’d proven their loyalty, and we worked well together.

  But that tiny sliver of doubt still crept through me. I’d gotten here by relying on my own drive, talent, and gut instincts to give clients what they need, twenty-four seven. I was the final say on everything for my company. Giving up that type of control made my skin prickle, like I was about to break out into hives. I’d heard horror stories of being pushed out by once-trusted partners and overruled on important decisions by lack of majority. What if Kate and Layla decided to team up and I found myself the odd woman out? Power sometimes had a funny effect on relationships. Did I really want to take such a chance? Even with these women I trusted and called friends?

  I needed more time to think it through. Until then, I’d just push forward.

  I shook my head and refocused. “Let’s get to work. We only have two weeks until the presentation. I’ve been looking over all the reports from the research department and there’s a few things we need to zone in on.”

  Layla jumped in. “Lexi’s Lemonade is organic. That’s the main buzzword.”

  “Exactly. Statistics show kids drive popular drink sales by pushing their parents to buy. We need to find a way to bridge the gap and get the children to beg mom to buy it.”

  “And the moms need to feel good about giving in,” Kate added.

  I brought up a picture of the label on my screen and tapped it with my fingernail. “Packaging is huge. The recycled box is earth-friendly and colorful. It needs to compete on the shelves with Capri Sun, Honest Kids, and the endless others. We need to find a unique inroad.”

  “At least it tastes good,” Layla said. She pursed her red-painted lips. “Can you believe Kool-Aid still sells a shitload? Man, I loved that stuff growing up. And what a mascot. Genius.”

  “Hmm, but I don’t think we want a mascot for this product,” I said. “We need to gain children’s attention with the ad, then slam it home that there’s low sugar and no preservatives. The double hook.”

  “Shock value?” Layla threw out.

  I nodded. “Possible, but not too much. I think funny.”

  Kate cocked her head. “Kids nowadays are immune to shock value with YouTube and video games. I agree, funny may be the way to go.”

  Layla groaned and opened up her email. “I’ll get Sarah started on kids’ comedy and what generates the most sales.”

  “Good, let’s start throwing everything in the pot for possible scenarios,” I said. The rush of adrenaline warmed my blood as the challenge of a new creative account settled in. This was what I lived for, the elusive hunt for the perfect hook to please a client and sell the product. It never got old.

  We started brainstorming and my phone vibrated. Glancing quickly at the screen, I noticed my mother had called twice without leaving a voice mail. I held back a groan. Typical. If I didn’t pick up, she just kept calling and refused to leave a message. Soon, a text came through.

  Frannie, please call me. I have an important question.

  Impatience flickered. She was always calling me with endless questions, from how to work the television remote to what movie to rent at Redbox to whether I’d read the latest article about coconut oil healing all ailments. Once, she’d called half a dozen times to tell me she had a thirty percent coupon at Kohl’s and didn’t want it to expire.

  She’d never really respected my work or how far I’d come, still treating me like I had a disposable job that allowed me to leave when I wanted, relax on weekends, or delegate my work when I wished. Her constant refrains echoed through my mind.

  I don’t understand. Aren’t you the boss? Why can’t you take some time off?

  I grabbed my phone and typed out a text. Busy now. Call you later.

  I got back to work and shortly thereafter Adam came in. His curly brown hair was a bit mussed, and sweat gleamed on his forehead. “We have a problem,” he announced, crashing down into the chair.

  “You decided you’re too fancy to work on branding Lexi’s Lemonade,” Layla teased, used to Adam’s dramatics. The man was a bit over-the-top but a genius when it came to creating click-worthy social media campaigns.

  “No. The IG ad for Dallas Jeans is tanking.” He slid his iPad down the table with it opened to the screen. “Consumers hate it. We need a rebrand.”

  My heart rate rammed into a full gallop. I had no time for any failures that weren’t scheduled. “It’s still brand-new,” I said, glancing down at the ad. “Maybe we need some organic growth first.”

  Adam shook his head. “Not with this. It’s only going to get w
orse. I have a few suggestions on what to tweak, Frannie. I know you’re busy so I can work with Layla and get it handled.”

  “No problem,” Layla said. “I can make the time.”

  I hesitated. I was already overworked and overscheduled. I should just let Adam and Layla take care of it, but the Dallas Jeans ad was something I’d helped create. If it bombed, I needed to be involved in fixing it. “No, I can work with you.”

  Kate blinked. “What about Lexi’s Lemonade? We don’t want to get behind. It may be better to let them handle it, Frannie.”

  I squared my shoulders. “I know the client best, including Perry’s preferences. I’ll stay late a few nights and knock it out.”

  Kate and Layla shared a glance but held their tongues. They’d been pushing for more control, advising me to hire more people and to work lead on fewer clients. I knew they were trying to help and that they craved more responsibility, but I still had an uneasy feeling that if I stepped back too much, they’d eventually decide they didn’t need me.

  I tamped down on the tiny flicker of fear coursing through my bloodstream. That annoying, buzzing voice whispering the million ways I could fail. My entire reputation was based on running F&F Advertising and thriving at every level. I’d finally managed to secure some national-brand clients and needed to show they’d made the right decision in placing their dollars with a smaller firm.

  Why did it feel like the entire world was waiting for me to fail? Successful women were still looked upon as dangerous, and one big mistake was gleefully gossiped about, with news of it spreading like wildfire.

  I cleared my throat and took a deep breath. “Now, let’s get to work,” I said firmly.

  They didn’t protest.

  * * *

  * * *

  Hours later, I collapsed in my office and buzzed Jessica. “Any messages?” I asked.

  She rattled off a few I could put off until tomorrow. “Your mother called twice. Said you’d promised to call her back.”

  I groaned, rubbing my temples. “I forgot, thanks. Go on home. Thanks for staying.”

  “No problem. Have a good night, Frannie.”