Sweet Competition for Camillo’s Café: an enemies-to-lovers small town romantic comedy set in Italy

By Stefania Hartley

Camillo runs a popular café on Altavicia’s main square. Giada runs an equally popular café across the square. They have both entered Altavicia’s Best Café competition.
Scarred by his father’s death, Camillo’s greatest wish is to escape the Calabrian seaside village and return to his beloved London, where his family was last together and happy. Abandoned by her parents, Giada’s greatest wish is to earn her nonna’s love. The competition trophy is the ticket to both their dreams, but only one can win.

As Camillo discovers that happiness doesn’t come from a location and Giada that love isn’t earned, can enemies become friends, and maybe more?

This novella is part of a series but is completely standalone.
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Sicilian Mama
• Release date: Jul 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9781914606205

Book preview

Sweet Competition for Camillo’s Café

a sweet and light enemies-to-lovers small town romance set in Italy

Stefania Hartley

The Sicilian Mama

Copyright © 2023 Stefania Hartley

ISBN 978-1-914606-20-5

Publisher: The Sicilian Mama

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Stefania Hartley asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

Cover by Joseph Witchall

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Books In This Series

Books By This Author

About The Author

Praise For Author

Chapter 1

Camillo

Camillo wound out the parasols, ready for the morning sun to rise over his café on Altavicia’s main square. It was going to be another hot Italian summer’s day and Camillo wasn’t looking forward to it.

I don’t think you should make any more of those ‘scone’ things, Giuseppe, the café’s only employee, said. Who wants buttery pastry, clotted cream and jam in the height of the Calabrian summer?

Plenty of people. A cream tea is delicious, Camillo replied, dusting some sand off the parasol’s trimming.

It’s not local food.

Here we go again, Camillo thought. This was the crux of the matter: Giuseppe didn’t like anything that wasn’t Calabrian.

Is there anything local about my café? Camillo pointed to the bunting of British flags stretched between the parasols, the seat cushions printed with Keep Calm and Drink Tea and the picture of Big Ben clearly visible through the shop window.

That’s precisely the problem. Tourists come to Altavicia to have a piece of southern Italy. You insist on making them feel like they’re in London, Giuseppe replied, stretching his arms in exasperation.

Were employees supposed to criticise their employers so openly? Camillo wondered. But then again, Giuseppe wasn’t just an employee. He was like family.

He had started working at the café when Camillo’s father had opened it, and had been there for Camillo when, as a shocked twenty-year-old, he had rushed back from London to take it over after his father’s sudden death.

Thank you for the advice but I’ve just put in a large order of buttermilk, butter and flour to make more scones, Camillo replied, continuing to wind up the parasol.

Suit yourself, Giuseppe said, but didn’t go away. Have you heard that they’ve increased the Altavicia’s Best Café prize from one thousand to ten thousand euros? Luigi Felice is sponsoring it this year. Our very own local-boy-made-good is a very generous man.

Camillo knew that Giuseppe was a staunch fan of Altavicia’s homegrown opera star, but he felt this conversation wasn’t about the tenor. I’ve never been interested in that competition.

You should be. You’re always pining to go back to London and—

I’m not pining, and anyway, what’s the prize got to do with London?

With ten thousand euros, you could pay not just for one but for a number of holidays there! I can hold the fort here and, if I need help, I can call your brothers to come and help.

I don’t want a holiday in London. Camillo wanted to move back there—his home and the place where he had last been happy.

Fine. Spend the money in some other way. Send it to your brothers, who’re always asking for more. You must admit that ten thousand euros would be useful, Giuseppe persisted.

I have no chance of winning.

The other café owners in Altavicia loved their jobs and were passionate about their cafés, while for him Camillo’s Café was only a means to support himself and his younger brothers. As soon as his middle brother, Pasquale, completed his degree and could take over the café and the family home, Camillo would leave this town forever. Nothing good had come out of it. If his parents had never returned to their hometown, their family would still be intact.

Of course you do. Who are your competitors? Giuseppe flicked the tea towel off his shoulder towards the café opposite. Nonna Vita’s café? Not at the moment. Her granddaughter Daniela is about to have a baby and you can see they’re too busy even to water their plants.

Despite being drought-resistant plants, the oleanders in the pots that marked the outdoors seating area looked very droopy. The wind had blown sand from the beach onto the striped awning, and nobody had brushed it off.

There are many other cafés in town, Camillo said.

And yours is as good as them, Giuseppe said, then returned back inside.

Camillo wound up the last parasol and went to the kitchen to check on his scones. They were baked to perfection. He sniffed the air. The smell of home. Tomorrow, he would bake some shortbread too.

But now it was time to tackle invoices and other paperwork. Camillo had a room at the back of the shop which he grandly called the office. But it was just a glorified broom cupboard and it was so messy that he preferred to do his paperwork in the café’s gentlemen’s corner. This was a quiet corner, tucked away from the street, which Camillo had furnished with an old leather chesterfield sofa, velvet cushions and small tables with lamps, giving it the look of a British gentlemen’s lounge. It was usually empty, as most customers preferred tables outside, in the Calabrian sunshine and the sea breeze. But it was Camillo’s favourite place.

Camillo sat down under the framed photo of the Tower of London and scrolled through his emails. His consignment of English Breakfast tea was on its way from the UK. Most of his customers drank coffee but he could always persuade a few of the more adventurous sort to try milk tea, especially if he bundled it with the scone, cream and jam.

His phone rang in his hands, making him start. It was Pasquale.

Hi, Bro, how are you? Camillo answered in English.

I’ve got good news, Pasquale said in Italian. His brother seemed to have erased their life in London with the ease of a sweep of a sponge. I’m definitely going to graduate at the end of July!

For four years Camillo had pushed his dreams aside to put his brothers through university. Now that one of them was graduating, Camillo could finally see that his sacrifices had not been in vain. This is great news, Camillo managed to say through the emotion knotting his throat.

Thanks, Lillo. And I have more good news. I’ve landed an interview with a big multinational company, in Milan.

Camillo sat up as if he had been stung. Wait. What do you need a job in Milan for? I thought—

I know what you’re going to say, Pasquale interrupted. With my grades, I should be applying for a Master’s and stay on at university. And you would be right, but if I get a good job without a Master’s, isn’t it better for everyone? Then I can start earning money immediately and help you guys.

Actually, that’s not what I was going to say, Camillo said. I thought we had an agreement.

Sorry?

Hadn’t they made an agreement? He didn’t actually remember discussing this with his brother. Maybe they never had.

The plan was that, as soon as you got your degree, you’d take over the café, Camillo said.

Pasquale snorted a chuckle. Me, run the café?

Why not? I’ve done it until now. You’ve been studying how to run a business and this is a business. It will challenge you more than some junior job in a big company where you’ve got no decision-making power. Being your own boss is a lot more fun than working for others.

"Camillo, please, be reasonable. I didn’t need to go to university to run Dad’s café. Anyway, if you think that running the café is such an exciting