The Cosy Christmas Chocolate Shop: The perfect, feel good romantic comedy to curl up with this Christmas!. Caroline Roberts
to a shot of Baileys in her hot chocolate, whilst watching a movie in her PJs and slippers, cuddled up with Alfie on the sofa. That way she could have an early night, so she didn’t have to see midnight in and didn’t have to think about facing another year alone.
Instead, she’d had her arm twisted by Bev, her closest friend, and Joanne, both from the village, so here she was in The Fisherman's Arms, having beer slopped down her back, party poppers thrust into her hands and any minute some strange guy’s lips would be thrust on hers in an attempt at wishing her a Happy New Year! Her mind slipped to the man on the beach again – he kept popping up in her thoughts, uninvited. She wondered what he was doing for New Year? She’d rather it was The Kiss, as she’d named him to herself, lined up next to her; that might not be too bad at all, rather than the portly middle-aged fisherman, reeking of a mix of lager and stale kippers, who seemed to be purposely edging into her zone. She downed a big gulp of white wine as Big Ben started to chime on the TV screen they had blaring out, and managed a swift side-cheek manoeuvre as the fisherman moved in for the inevitable kiss.
‘Happy New Year, pet!’ he slurred.
‘Happy New Year,’ she replied with a pasted-on smile.
Then Bev and her hubbie, Pete, found her, congratulating her with hugs and kisses.
‘Have a good one, Em.’ Bev hugged an arm around her.
‘Hope so. You too, my lovely friend.’
Even though Bev was nearly ten years older than Emma, the age gap just didn’t seem apparent. They had first met a few weeks after Emma had come to Warkton at a summer fete down by the harbour. Bev had said hello, then introduced her to several new faces in the village. Later they had chatted away, Bev intrigued by the opening of a chocolate shop in their village. She always joked that it was the talk of chocolate, not Emma herself, that first captured her attention and sealed their friendship.
Joanne and a few more acquaintances from the village moved to be beside her, pushing through the throng of revellers that were crammed in like sardines, with shouts of ‘Yay! Happy New Year, darling!’ whilst topping up Emma’s glass with bubbly. Danny came out from behind the bar to make the most of kissing a whole bunch of ladies at once, giving Emma a warm, friendly peck on the cheek, then moving along the row. ‘Happy New Year, gorgeous ladies.’
‘Hey, Em, my fab-ul-ous boss. Happy New Year, hunnn!’
There was Holly, in a bright red dress, brown wavy hair bouncing around her shoulders, with a slight slur to her voice, tottering beside her in high heels. ‘New shoes – aren’t they brilliant?’ She raised a leg, showing a bit too much thigh, which, judging by the grin on his face, Danny didn’t seem to mind, and indeed, her new black stiletto killer-heels.
‘Amazing – I don’t think I could even walk in them,’ Emma commented with a smile. ‘Happy New Year to you too, Hols.’
‘Have a good one, Em. Wonder what this year will bring? I’m looking for the man of my dreams … well, Tom will do.’ She laughed giddily, full of hope, and expectation, which was just how it should be at sixteen and three-quarters.
‘Well, I hope it’s a special year for you, Holly.’
There were more hugs and introductions to Holly’s group of young, vibrant friends.
New Year: a new chapter, a time for hopes and dreams, wishes and resolutions. Emma could only think about getting through tonight; tomorrow, a whole year, too much to take on. She still felt stuck. Yes, of course she’d find moments of happiness where she could; she had great friends, a wonderful family, and her very special chocolate shop, and for all of that she was thankful, but beneath it, her heart still felt sore.
Smile, chat, mingle some more, another round of drinks, one more glass of bubbly, and at last, just after 1.00 a.m., the chance for Emma to get back to her little cottage and her bed.
The next evening all was quiet in Emma’s small living room. New Year’s Eve had been survived and another New Year’s Day was over – well, nearly. Phew, she’d made it through another festive season and she could chill out a bit now with a slower few weeks in the shop, but it never lasted. Who would want to live in a world without chocolate, for heaven’s sake?!
Em snuggled up on the sofa, with Alfie content beside her.
For a second her mind flashed to the man on the beach on Boxing Day. Might he come back yet? Come and find her there in her little chocolate shop? A week had now passed since they’d met, but it was all a bit too bizarre. And, how would she feel if he really did? Wouldn’t it seem a bit stalkerish? He might have that axe lurking in the back of his pick-up, or perhaps she’d just imagined he was handsome, and he’d walk in with a crooked nose, squinty eyes, and yellow-stained teeth. But the image she had fixed in her mind was far from that. Anyhow, strangers just didn’t kiss you in a car park like that. Certainly not like that! Oh yes, it was all coming back vividly now. Boy, talk about making your toes tingle.
She smiled, remembering one of her Great-Aunt Emily’s phrases which she’d chided her with when she was a teenager: ‘Just because he makes your toes tingle, it doesn’t mean he’s right for you.’
Luke had made her toes tingle, mind you. Many times.
She sighed and stroked the soft fur of Alfie’s head. Though he’d been asleep, his tail responded instantly, thwacking down happily on to the sofa cushion.
‘We’re okay, aren’t we, Alfie?’
It was meant to be a statement, but it came out sounding like a question.
Though the shop was closed for another day over the New Year break, Emma was in the kitchen early making up a batch of whisky truffles. She liked to keep herself busy, would spend the time off preparing for the next few weeks, and warming whisky truffles were always a good seller through the winter months.
She melted the dark chocolate, then warmed the whisky just to the point where a little vapour was coming off it, next she’d whisk them together. The smell was rather delicious, even this early in the morning. She’d look forward to trying one with a cup of rich coffee later. The ganache mix she’d made had to refrigerate for at least four hours before it would be ready to roll into the circular centres, ready to dip in melted dark chocolate. Bliss.
There was a knock at the back door, footsteps, then a head popped round, all dark-brown curls and a cheery smile.
‘Oh, hi, Holly. Good to see you.’
‘Hey, Em. Happy New Year! I was just in the village fetching some milk and the papers for Mum. Thought I’d pop in and say hello.’
‘Happy New Year. But we did see each other on New Year’s Eve.’
‘Ah yes, so we did – it’s coming back to me now. I was slightly squiffy at that point. Soz. Anyway, I wanted to find out when you’ll need me back in next.’
‘Well, it’s going to be pretty quiet for a few weeks …’ She saw Holly’s face drop. No doubt she’d spent all her recent wages on her New Year’s Eve outfit. ‘But you could maybe help out for a couple of hours each Saturday afternoon. It’ll give me the chance to do some crafting. I’m sorry, Holly, I really do wish I could give you more hours, but January’s just not a great time.’ She’d be counting the pennies as it was. ‘We’ll be busier in Feb for Valentine’s Day, though. I’ll need you loads more then, and on the build-up to Easter, of course.’
‘Okay. No worries.’ The young girl smiled, though she still looked a little disappointed.
Emma felt awful; she so wished she could give her more work. Holly was a great help and lovely with the customers, chatty and friendly behind the counter. She was nice company for Emma too. But the business really wasn’t making enough for her to keep paying for extra hours. As it was, she probably