Hi guys, today we have the pleasure of welcoming Rick R. Reed and his newest release Dinner at Fiorello’s to our blog, Rick introduces us to Vito and his girls Gabby and Connie, his beloved dogs, we have a fantastic excerpt and we have an incredible giveaway where you can win your own copy of Dinner at Home 😀 the first book in the Dinner series. You can also check out my review, so check out the post and click that Rafflecopter link <3 ~Pixie~   

Dinner at Fiorello’s

Rick R. Reed

Henry Appleby has an appetite for life. As a recent high school graduate and the son of a wealthy family in one of Chicago’s affluent North Shore suburbs, his life is laid out for him. Unfortunately, though, he’s being forced to follow in the footsteps of his successful attorney father instead of living his dream of being a chef. When an opportunity comes his way to work in a real kitchen the summer after graduation, at a little Italian joint called Fiorello’s, Henry jumps at the chance, putting his future in jeopardy.

Years ago, life was a plentiful buffet for Vito Carelli. But a tragic turn of events now keeps the young chef at Fiorello’s quiet and secretive, preferring to let his amazing Italian peasant cuisine do his talking. When the two cooks meet over an open flame, sparks fly. Both need a taste of something more—something real, something true—to separate the good from the bad and find the love—and the hope—that just might be their salvation.

The Girls and an Introduction to Vito

 By Rick R. Reed

You gotta love a man who loves his dogs. Well, at least I do. Here’s an introduction to one of my two love interests in my newest book, Dinner at Fiorello’s. I think you’ll see at once that Vito Carelli is a bit of a haunted soul, but a good soul, a lovable soul, and hopefully one you’ll want to come to know better.

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EXCERPT—“The Girls and an Introduction to Vito”

Vito Carelli double-checked the lock on the back entrance of Fiorello’s and set off. He was bone weary but felt the contentment of knowing he had worked hard and had fed people all day and evening long. The pleasure he knew they took in his simple Sicilian food was a comfort. Occasionally, he would peek out from the kitchen and watch their expressions when they took a bite of something he’d made. If it was the first bite, especially, Vito found a sense of joy and delight in their expression. It was something he called, in Italian, the look. That expression of pure satisfaction. Sometimes they closed their eyes, almost in rapture. The look made it all worthwhile.

But now his shift was over, and Vito was feeling empty as he walked the streets of Chicago’s Rogers Park neighborhood. The night had turned chillier with a breeze off the lake. Vito felt removed from the rest of the world, even though there were lots of people out, riding in cars, walking the streets, in ‘L’ cars overhead. Work was his lifeline, his sanctuary, even though he was mostly silent with his coworkers. They were all nice enough people, but Vito wasn’t much of a talker. His mama and pop had taught him that big boys don’t cry and real men never complain. They shoulder their burdens with dignity and keep them locked away in their hearts, however broken that particular organ was.

At last, after walking several blocks south on Greenview, he turned the corner on Morse and headed west. He could have taken the ‘L’ home, but he liked these walks. Not only did they save him money, but they also helped clear his head. As he made his way home, he could feel some of the tension in his shoulders, born of standing over a hot Wolf stove all day, melt away.

He wished he could say the same for the tension he felt inside. That, he feared, might never go away. Not when he considered all he had lost.

He came to the door that led to a set of stairs that would take him to his big two-bedroom, above a dollar store at street level. He unlocked it with his key and trudged up the stairs. Vito was a big man, and his tread was heavy. Every night, it alerted his girls, Gabriella and Concetina, Gabby and Connie for short, that he was home. Vito permitted himself a smile as he heard them send up a chorus of barks and whining. Connie would always scratch at the door when she realized her master was making his homecoming, and Vito knew if he ever moved, he’d need to paint that door before taking his leave.

It was nice to know that someone was happy to see him, someone wanted to welcome him home. Even if they were just two mutts, hungry for their suppers.

Vito sighed. He hated leaving the girls cooped up in the little apartment all day, even if Victor, the old man living next to him, took them out for walks a couple of times a day. They were big girls, German shepherd and pit bull mixes, and Vito often wished he could give them more room to frolic and roam.

He tried to make up for it by showering them with love and affection. And he spoiled them! They slept on the bed with him, and every night he brought home food from the restaurant for them. It was usually scraps and leftovers, things that would have been thrown away anyway, but what dog would complain about a veal cutlet, a bit of roast chicken, say, or a nice piece of flank steak?

Vito pressed his key into the lock and, as usual, had to jam his shoulder hard against the door to open it, since the girls were frantically pushing on it, jumping in their excitement to see him.

Finally he got the door open and slipped quickly inside. He fell to his knees before the dogs, hugging them and allowing them to lick his face all over. The welcome never failed to make him laugh. The girls were so excited they were whimpering.

But the welcome also saddened him, because it always brought about the memory, not so long ago, when he was greeted at the door with human kisses, human touches, excitement, and love.

He couldn’t allow himself to think about that. Think about that, and he might just be tempted to go throw himself in bed and pull the covers over his head. He might stave off the night licking his wounds and wallowing in sorrow. He kissed each dog’s forehead and clumsily got to his feet.

Excerpt

The boy followed. Vito noticed he kept his distance. Vito had to give him that much. At least he was trying to be discreet.

Up ahead, there was a bus stop. “Come on, girls, let’s sit for a minute.” Vito herded the dogs into the plexiglass and steel structure and sat down on the bench bolted to the sidewalk. He kicked a Budweiser beer can away from his feet, and Connie watched its progress into the gutter with her ears up.

Vito sat and waited, studying the graffiti etched into the plexiglass. Every so often he’d cast his gaze east, and there was Henry, pacing just at the edge of his vision. The kid was nervous. Vito could tell that much from his jittery movements and the way he wrung his hands.

Vito shook his head and sighed. “Always the rescuer and never the rescued,” he said to Connie, reaching down to scratch the back of her neck. He stood and walked to the edge of the bus shelter and peered down the almost empty sidewalk. A vintage red Mustang raced by, shattering the quiet morning into fragments. In the distance, beyond Henry, Vito spied a homeless woman, rummaging in a metal mesh trash barrel, searching for treasures or sustenance.

“Kid,” Vito called. “Do you think you’re invisible? I can see you. I saw you the minute I walked out the door. What the hell are you doing?”

Henry stood frozen to the sidewalk, and at last he grinned sheepishly at Vito. Vito gestured for him to come closer, and Henry did, until he stood in front of Vito, staring at him as though terrified.

“What the hell are you doing?” Vito asked again. “And this time don’t give me any bullshit about just happening to be in the neighborhood. Or getting some fresh air.” Vito laughed and emerged from the bus shelter to join Henry on the sidewalk. “Come on. Walk the girls home with me.”

One thing Vito knew, just from the boy’s demeanor, was that he was upset. In addition to his physical aspect and the nervous tics that gave him away, there was the circumstantial evidence to support emotional trauma. For one, it was around five o’clock in the morning. The kid should be home and in bed, sleeping. Vito knew he had worked him hard and ceaselessly the night before. A boy Henry’s age should be sawing logs until noon today, until some mom or pop yelled up the stairs for him to get his ass out of bed.

Yet here he was in Vito’s neighborhood, watching his apartment from across the street like a spy. This neighborhood wasn’t the safest. There were robberies, assaults, and gang violence all the time. It was pretty much a matter of routine. And although Henry was a strapping kid, he was soft. There was a vulnerability about him that a predator could take advantage of.

As hard as he tried, Vito couldn’t help but be the nurturer, the hero. He had informally pledged to himself he wouldn’t allow himself to go to that place where he was cast as hero ever again. It only brought him heartache.

But it seemed life, or fate, made plans for Vito without consulting him.

They walked in silence. Vito figured Henry would say something when he was ready. Or he’d talk when Vito reached his front door, about to head inside, leaving Henry out in the heat of the morning.

Whichever came first.

Already it felt like the humidity hovered around 100 percent. If Vito looked east, he could see the sun coming up, a diffuse orange ball, tarnished by haze.

It was going to be a scorcher.

At his front door, Vito pulled his keys out of his pocket. The girls’ ears perked up at their jingle. They knew from endless repetition that the sound meant they would soon be going inside and getting breakfast. Connie jumped up on Vito’s chest, gave his face a quick wipe with her tongue. He pushed her gently away.

He cocked his head and looked at Henry. Henry couldn’t appear to meet his gaze. He cast his blue eyes down toward the grit on the sidewalk.

“I have something to ask you.” Vito leaned close to Henry.

Henry at last looked up, and Vito’s heart lurched because he could see the pain in the boy’s tender pale eyes. They were watery, red-rimmed. Vito said a silent prayer. Please make him go away. Please. I don’t want to get involved.

Vito knew if there was a God, he was deaf to such petitions. They had never worked in the past.

Vito whispered, “Are you completely nuts?”

Henry laughed then, a bitter little yelp of a laugh, far too old and wise for a teenage kid. “Yeah. I think I am.” Henry shrugged. “Or at least I wish I was. Maybe then things would be easier.” Henry stared down the street, presumably at the rising sun. “A mental institution sounds inviting right now. An escape.”

Vito put a hand on Henry’s shoulder, forcing him to return his gaze to Vito’s eyes. “Kid. What’s the matter?” Inside, Vito cursed himself for asking. The cynical part of him told him, over and over, he didn’t want to know. He shouldn’t get involved.

“What’s the matter? What’s the matter? Maybe it’s the fact you call me ‘kid’ all the goddamn time. I’m eighteen. At least in the eyes of the law, I’m an adult.” He sighed. “And fact is, I mostly feel a lot older than just eighteen.”

“I’m sorry. Would you like me to call you Henry? Old man?”

Henry shook his head. “I don’t care.” He rubbed at his face. “How old are you, anyway?”

“Twenty-six.”

“Ancient,” Henry scoffed. “But not really. A decade on me does not give you the right to call me ‘kid.’ It’s absurd.”

“Okay, so I won’t call you kid.” Vito smacked the back of Henry’s head. “How about ciuccio? You like that better?”

“Chooch? What’s that?” Henry asked.

Vito laughed. “It’s what my mama calls an idiot, a stupid person.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Just then the homeless woman Vito had spied earlier and since forgotten came up to them. Her eyes were yellow and glazed, her hair a gray flyaway mess, and she smelled bad. Sour. Perspiration and rotten onions. When she spoke, Vito noticed she was missing a lot of teeth.

“You guys spare some change? Or a cigarette?” She looked hopefully from one face to the other.

Vito watched Henry, waiting to see what he would do. His own hand he had in his pocket, where he knew there were a couple of singles and some change. Henry smiled at the woman, although Vito could see him recoil a bit from her stench. He dug in his pocket and brought out a handful of bills. Vito suspected these were his tips from the night before, maybe all of them.

“Here,” Henry said. “This is all I got.”

The woman grabbed the bills and stuffed them into her ripped down coat, too dirty to discern any color and too hot for the weather.

Vito handed the woman a couple of dollars. “Take care,” he said softly.

The woman looked at both of them with something like gratitude. Her lower lip came up and out. In a hoarse voice, she said, “Thank you.”

Vito watched her walk away. “She’ll probably use that for booze,” he said.

“Or drugs,” Henry agreed.

“I guess it’s none of our business.”

The dogs clawed at Vito’s legs. “Do you want to come in?”

Henry looked around, as if maybe Vito’s reluctant query was directed at someone else.

“The girls here need their breakfast.”

Henry looked down at them. “Right. Sure.”

Vito turned to unlock the door. “You can’t stay. But I’ll make coffee.” He could feel Henry’s breath warm on his neck, he stood so close behind him.

Vito smiled.

About Rick

Rick R. Reed is all about exploring the romantic entanglements of gay men in contemporary, realistic settings. While his stories often contain elements of suspense, mystery and the paranormal, his focus ultimately returns to the power of love. He is the author of dozens of published novels, novellas, and short stories. He is a three-time EPIC eBook Award winner (for Caregiver, Orientation and The Blue Moon Cafe). Raining Men  and Caregiver have both the Rainbow Award for Best Contemporary General Fiction. Lambda Literary Review has called him, “a writer that doesn’t disappoint.” Rick lives in Seattle with his husband and a very spoiled Boston terrier. He is forever “at work on another novel.”

Where to find the author:

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Review

Title: Dinner at Fiorello’s

Series: Dinner 02

Author: Rick R. Reed

Genre: Contemporary, New Adult

Length: Novel (210pgs)

ISBN: 978-1-63476-076-8

Publisher: Dreamspinner Press (1^st May 2015)

Heat Level: Low

Heart Rating: ♥♥♥♥ 4 Hearts

Reviewer: Pixie

Blurb: Henry Appleby has an appetite for life. As a recent high school graduate and the son of a wealthy family in one of Chicago’s affluent North Shore suburbs, his life is laid out for him. Unfortunately, though, he’s being forced to follow in the footsteps of his successful attorney father instead of living his dream of being a chef. When an opportunity comes his way to work in a real kitchen the summer after graduation, at a little Italian joint called Fiorello’s, Henry jumps at the chance, putting his future in jeopardy.

Years ago, life was a plentiful buffet for Vito Carelli. But a tragic turn of events now keeps the young chef at Fiorello’s quiet and secretive, preferring to let his amazing Italian peasant cuisine do his talking. When the two cooks meet over an open flame, sparks fly. Both need a taste of something more—something real, something true—to separate the good from the bad and find the love—and the hope—that just might be their salvation.

Purchase Link: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=6333

Review: This story is part of a series but can be read as a stand-alone. Henry knows what he wants to do with his life now that he’s graduated from school and it isn’t what his wealthy father has planned for him, but he doesn’t know if he will be brave enough to go after what he wants until he spots a help wanted ad for a little Italian restaurant called Fiorella’s. Vito was blessed with a good life until a tragic turn of events took what he loved most, now he lives quietly, keeping to himself and working as the chef at Fiorella’s. For over a year nothing has breached the shell he lives in until a blond ‘bubble dancer’ begins to crack his shell, but Vito doesn’t want his safe shell shattered and Henry’s life is falling apart around him. Will either man take a chance on something more or will they retreat to the safety or the world that they know.

Fiorella’s is another wonderful story from Rick R. Reed that touches our hearts. Henry is the typical rich kid who has had everything offered to him on a platter except the love of his parents, his mother is cold and distant and his father is a powerful attorney who has Henry’s life mapped out for him. Henry wants to take a chance of grabbing his dream though, a dream that would have him cooking for other people, a dream that his father would look down on but with only the summer free before he starts collage he decides to grab the chance he is offered. Vito is perfectly with his lonely life working as the chef at Fiorella’s, at least that’s what he wants everyone to believe, the loss of those he loved the most still weighs him down and he never wants to open is heart to that kind of hurt again. Having Henry come into his life has Vito tempted to live again. As Henry’s life begins to fall apart and he turns to Vito, but cracking Vito’s secretive shell isn’t easy.

Henry is a young man who doesn’t want to be caged into a life he won’t enjoy, but going against his father’s wishes isn’t easy especially when he gets no support from his mother. As Henry moves into the world of adulthood he learns that life isn’t easy or going to fit into what he wants, it’s a hard world with realities he might not like and he has to grow up. Vito knows that life is far from easy; he now keeps himself to himself with no interest in love. We don’t get an easy romance, in fact Vito seems to barely tolerate Henry, what we get is a young man on the verge of making his own adult decisions and a jaded man who has turned his back on life.

This is a beautifully written story, we are made to feel both men’s pain in this story, Henry’s pain as his life changes and his solid family base is shaken and Vito’s bleeding pain as he tries to let go of the past. There are some poignant moments as Vito loses himself in his dreams and memories and as he begins to open up to Henry but we also have his anger as he feels that he’s being forced to let go of the past. With Henry we get his excitement of beginning his life, the fear of going against his father, the devastation of his family not being what he thought and the twisting feelings he has for Vito. These two men need each other and it takes a large part of the book to get to that stage, but it fits as we get to know both Vito and Henry, it’s the pace that suits both of them.

I recommend this to those who love stories of embarking on your own path in life, of being poked back to life and the living, of a tentative new love blooming, of grabbing life with both hands and facing the fall out, and of two men who embark on a new stage in their lives.    

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