The Cosy Seaside Chocolate Shop Read online

  Copyright

  HarperImpulse an imprint of

  HarperCollinsPublishers

  1 London Bridge Street

  London SE1 9GF

  www.harpercollins.co.uk

  First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2018

  Copyright © Caroline Roberts 2018

  Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2018

  Cover illustrations © Shutterstock.com

  Caroline Roberts asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

  Source ISBN: 9780008295547

  Ebook Edition © June 2018 ISBN: 9780008295554

  Version: 2018-06-12

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  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

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  A Letter from Caroline

  Acknowledgements

  Recipes

  Keep Reading …

  About the Author

  Also by Caroline Roberts

  About the Publisher

  Dedication

  For Julie and Kathryn

  – onwards and upwards

  Epigraph

  ‘There is nothing better than a friend,

  Unless it is a friend with chocolate.’

  Linda Grayson

  1

  ‘Is it ready yet?’ The young man stood at the counter smiling, a hint of nervous anticipation in his blue eyes.

  ‘Yes, of course. I added the final touches to it this morning,’ Emma answered.

  ‘I can’t wait to see it. And did it fit in okay?’

  ‘Yep, no problem at all. I used one of the little cellophane bags I usually put the truffles in to protect it – didn’t want any chocolate smears to spoil the box. It looks great, honestly. I’m sure she’ll be happy with it. Anyway, I’ll go and fetch it from the crafting kitchen, where I’ve kept it safe for you, then you can see for yourself.’

  It had been an unusual and rather lovely request: to place an engagement ring inside a hand-crafted chocolate Easter egg. Emma had been asked to design several creations, or add special messages to gifts, over the eight years since she had opened The Chocolate Shop by the Sea, but never this. She’d thought it wise to keep the ring in its jeweller’s box, so the lucky girl in question didn’t spoil the moment of revelation by eating it accidentally and ending up in A&E!

  Emma had spent many hours designing and crafting the delicate, filigree-inspired sugar-paste design of hearts and flowers that adorned its moulded dark chocolate sides (dark chocolate being the fiancée-to-be’s favourite). With some trepidation, and not wanting any breakages at the last moment, she carried it carefully through to the shop, praying that it would be everything that Mark, the young man waiting at the counter, was hoping for.

  ‘Wow, that’s amazing.’ The young man’s jaw dropped.

  Emma felt her shoulders relax as she placed the very special chocolate egg on the counter-top.

  He smiled ecstatically at her. ‘The design is just stunning. She’ll love it, I’m sure. Let’s hope she loves what’s inside too.’

  ‘She’d better,’ Emma grinned. ‘If someone had made that much effort for me, well …’ She let the words trail. Someone had, once, many years ago. Just the memories and the love she still felt for that wonderful person took her back – and still, after all these years, it had the power to make her feel raw, bruised.

  ‘Well, best of luck,’ Emma rallied, not wanting her own past to tarnish someone else’s bright, shiny future. ‘Here, let me pack it up for you. I have a box and bubble wrap to make it as safe as I can.’

  ‘I’ll drive home steadily, I promise.’

  And a few minutes later, the young man was setting off with his ‘engagement egg’ safely stowed in his arms, along with a heart full of hopes and dreams.

  Emma stood at the counter, waving a cheery goodbye to him, but he could only manage a small nod in reply for fear of dropping his precious cargo, although he was smiling broadly.

  Emma sighed happily. She loved this job so much. Well, it was more than a job to be honest – it was her own business, with her gorgeous little flat above the shop that was compact but cosy. ‘The Chocolate Shop by the Sea’ had been her refuge all those years ago, and now it was her joy. Coming down in the mornings to the scent of cocoa and vanilla, and sometimes warming whisky or orange, depending on what she’d been crafting the night before. The flavours and smells changed by the seasons, as did the colourful displays in the shop. Now, it was spring with wraps, boxes, ribbons and tags in Easter-bright yellows, pinks, blues and greens.

  She looked around her. The shop, with its café, was fairly small, having been someone’s front room once upon a time. It had a traditional wooden floor and the original stone cottage walls and there were two round tables set in the window-seat area that overlooked the quaint village street. The counter area had a refrigerated unit to store the cream-based truffles and ganaches safely and wooden shelves for her fabulous displays of chocolate, including a quirky boat-hull-styled unit that she kept filled with pretty packs of truffles, fudge and hand-crafted chocolate bars.

  She had re-styled the shop to echo the pretty harbour location, with new sky-blue seat pads for the window seats and stripy cushions in blues, cream and greys. Even the chocolates on the counter featured puffins, shells, anchors and boats.

  Holly, her seventeen-year-old assistant, was due in any minute. She usually started at ten o’clock on a Saturday. Holly, a bubbly, pretty girl with a mass of wavy brown hair was in her
final year at the local Sixth Form and worked for Emma at weekends and holidays. Emma knew she would likely lose her after the summer, when university or a college course beckoned. They had chatted about it recently after closing one day, both perched on stools with hot chocolates at the counter. The young girl would be a real miss at the shop, with her sunny nature and diligent attitude, though of course Emma wished her well for her future. They had worked hard together this last year, turning the business around and making its new coffee shop a success. There had been much fun and laughter along the way too.

  Em spotted Holly’s dark curls bouncing by the front window.

  ‘Hi, Em.’ Holly was grinning happily as she came into the shop.

  ‘Morning, Holly.’

  She was followed by a smart-looking lady in her sixties, who approached the counter with a friendly smile.

  ‘Hello, I’m looking to buy three chocolate eggs for my grandchildren. Something a bit different for each. Any ideas?’

  ‘Boys? Girls? Any hobbies?’ Emma asked.

  ‘Well then, Laura’s seven and into football, having just got into the school team.’

  ‘Ooh, well done to her.’

  ‘Her little sister is just a toddler who adores all things pink. And my grandson’s nine and mad about all those Xbox games and cricket.’

  ‘Okay, I have some suggestions.’ And with that, Emma brought forward some examples to the counter. ‘So, I do have a football egg, and believe it or not an Xbox-controller-shaped egg. It’s been popular, I can tell you. Or I can personalise a traditional egg with a name and a message, and there are large chocolate Easter bunnies and chicks, with varying ribbons and decorations. I can certainly go large on a fancy pink ribbon for the toddler with any of those. There are also hamper-style gifts with a selection of things in.’

  ‘Hmm, I can see I’m spoilt for choice. These all look fabulous. I’m so glad the young man at our hotel told me to call down here.’

  Holly was now standing beside Em, with her stripy blue apron on. Em felt her positively glow. The young man in question being her boyfriend, Adam, who worked as the assistant manager of The Seaview Hotel at the top of the village.

  ‘I’ll go with the football egg and two of the bunnies, please,’ the lady continued. ‘Can I have one with a pink ribbon and the other with a green spotty bow tie?’

  ‘Of course. Let me pop them into bags for you. Can I help with anything else?’

  ‘Hmm, yes,’ The woman scanned the glass window of the refrigerated section. ‘Maybe a box of whisky truffles for my husband.’

  After that, being the day before Easter Sunday, the customers kept piling in, and the café was buzzing all morning. The mini egg bags had run out by lunchtime, but there were plenty of other options. It was a fine balance, ensuring there was plenty of choice for those special occasion days, but also that you weren’t left with too much. Emma and Holly didn’t stop. Thank goodness Emma’s close friend, Bev, had agreed to help this afternoon too; she usually worked for a couple of days in the week.

  The Chocolate Shop was in full swing right up to the close of business – an hour later than normal at six o’clock. Emma saw the last gentleman out with his huge fancy marbled milk-and-white egg filled with truffles, checked the street for any last-minute stragglers and seeing there were just a couple of tourists heading down the hill towards the harbour, she shut the door, turning the painted wooden sign to Closed. Wow! That was some day – feet throbbing, hands sore from all the wrapping and tying of bows, and a till hopefully laden with cash ready to pay next month’s rent.

  ‘Thanks for all your hard work, ladies.’ Emma turned to Bev and Holly.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ Bev replied.

  ‘No worries.’ Holly smiled at her boss. ‘I’m going home to get ready to go out with Adam. I think he’s taking me for a meal.’

  ‘Ooh, lovely. And, hang on, I have a gift for you both. You can’t be working in a chocolate shop and not be getting any perks.’ Em trotted off to the back kitchen to fetch the two chocolate eggs she had hand-crafted especially for her staff. Both had their names carefully written in white chocolate across them. Holly’s was milk with white chocolate spots all over it and Bev’s was dark with hand-crafted flowers in white and dark chocolate, both filled with their favourites: Eton Mess truffles with meringue and strawberry pieces for Bev, and Baileys truffles plus some salted caramels for Holly.

  ‘Oh my, that is amaze-balls.’ Holly beamed. ‘It’s almost too good to eat.’

  ‘That is so pretty,’ Bev added. ‘Mind you, I’ll have no trouble tucking into mine. It looks divine. Thanks so much.’ She gave Em a hug.

  ‘You only love me for my chocolate,’ Emma jested as they pulled away.

  ‘Absolutely.’ Bev grinned.

  ‘Right, well, time to get yourselves home then. We’ve already run well over time, so thank you. I’ll do the last bit of tidying here.’

  ‘You sure?’ Holly checked; she’d quite gladly help for a while longer.

  ‘I’m fine, honest. Go get your glad rags on, young lady, and enjoy your evening. Tomorrow’s a day off for me too. Yee-es.’ Em was more than ready for it, the run-up to Easter being particularly hectic. It was one of the few Sundays of the year when she closed.

  The perfect antidote to a hectic day in the shop was a walk along the beach. After her staff had gone home, Emma nipped upstairs, took off her work apron, and found the lead for Alfie, her much-loved springer spaniel. He leapt out of his bed in her upstairs kitchen and was soon bouncing around her ankles.

  ‘Come on then, boy. Time for the beach.’

  He knew the routine off by heart and didn’t need asking twice; he bounded off down the stairs then sat waiting, tail wagging eagerly, by the back door. They left by the courtyard, a lovely stone-flagged area to the rear of the shop, turned out through the side alley to join the main village street of quaint stone cottages, and headed down the hill to the harbour, past the grocer’s store and the new arts-and-crafts shop. It was breezy but mild, and a few fishing boats bobbed alongside the harbour wall; two of the traditional cobles had been brought up to the shoreline and rested amongst lobster pots, colourful buoys and thick-corded ropes. Emma said ‘hello’ to a group of tourists she passed, and gave a wave to Danny, her friend from the pub. The Fisherman’s Arms was set on top of the slope that rose gently to the right of the harbour and Danny happened to be out in the front car park, chatting to some guests.

  Within five minutes she and Alfie were walking along the sandy track through the dunes, coming out upon a golden sweep of crescent-curved beach. Emma let Alfie off the lead and he ran joyfully down to the water’s edge, where rolling waves foamed in from the pewter-grey North Sea. It was beautiful there and strolling along the soft sands calmed her instantly. The hush of the waves, the breeze on her face, Alfie in his element – Warkton-by-the-Sea, with its beach, harbour, village of stone cottages and warm local hearts – this was home. This was her happy place – at last.

  She walked the length of the bay to where the rock pools gathered before the low cliffs. The evening was beginning to creep in, the sky gently fading to a peachy-grey before night came. She’d get back; she needed to get ready to see Max anyhow. It wasn’t only Holly who had a date night to look forward to. Emma’s boyfriend would be with her in an hour or so. Wow, she could still hardly believe all that had happened in the past year. She never imagined she could fall in love again – after the pains of the past she could hardly bear to think about – yet here she was – they were – still in the early, tentative, but oh-so-sweet-and-sexy days of their relationship. Another love.

  2

  Emma woke the next morning to find Max asleep beside her. It was rather wonderful, but it still took a little getting used to. He’d arrived a little later than expected last night, so they had had a chilled-out evening in the flat above the shop, catching up on their week apart over a supper of chicken and salad.

  The morning light glowed on his face, which was
framed by short, mid-brown hair. She studied the dark lashes on his closed lids, the shallow lines on his forehead, deeper laughter lines around his eyes that she knew were hazel-green, the sensual curve of his lip, the cropped beard. It was a handsome face, a little lived-in and rather gorgeous. Watching him made her melt and then spin inside. It was hard to pin down these new emotions. She had been self-contained for so many years; a case of necessity. And day by day she felt her heart unravelling just a little more. It felt beautiful … and somewhat scary.

  She reached to gently touch his shoulder which was bare above the covers. He was well-built, the muscles defined. There was the small scar where he had injured it just before Christmas. He still had to be careful, the dislocation to his shoulder making it likely that it might happen again. She loved him for his scars, his hurts, as well as his bloody sexy body. And hey, there were worse things to get used to than waking up to a strong, caring guy who looked a bit like Gerard Butler.

  His eyes blinked open. ‘Morning, beautiful.’ His just-awake smile was warm in his voice.

  ‘Hello, gorgeous.’ Their morning greeting had become their ‘thing’ as they welcomed another day. It started off as a cheesy joke but had stuck and it never failed to make her smile. ‘Oh, hang on,’ she added, ‘Happy Easter.’

  ‘Happy Easter, Em. Now then, I haven’t got you a chocolate egg – thought you might be all chocolated-out by now. But I did get you this …’ He got out of bed, totally starkers, and wandered across to the chair where he had placed his clothes and overnight bag. She loved that he was happy in his own skin, uninhibited. He lifted out a small gift from his luggage. ‘For you.’

  He climbed back into bed, as she opened the gift bag to reveal a very cute soft toy rabbit.

  ‘Well, you seem to be the one doing all the Easter-egg making and delivering around here, so I thought your very own Easter Bunny might be quite fitting.’

  ‘Aw, how sweet. He’s really lovely.’ The toy was gorgeous, all soft beige fur, with a white fluffy bib area and a yellow-spotted bow tie. ‘Thanks.’

  With that, she leaned down to find her gift for him where she’d hidden it under the bed. ‘And this … is not your average Easter egg, by the way.’