The Cosy Seaside Chocolate Shop: The perfect heartwarming summer escape from the Kindle bestselling author. Caroline Roberts

(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.’