Julie Caplin - The Little Paris Patisserie - A heartwarming and feel good cosy romance - perfect for fans of Bake Off!

‘That’s being in the army,’ said Bill, grappling with his bag, his large fingers dwarfing it. His tray was already full and while not in Sebastian’s league, they showed a workmanlike uniformity. ‘Get in, get the job done.’

Sebastian gave Bill’s tray an approving nod. ‘If you slowed down, they’d be even better. But a very good first attempt.’ He moved on down the row and then paused, shaking his head. ‘Maddie—’ his eyes twinkled with a sudden naughtiness ‘—has anyone told you not to squeeze quite so hard? You need a gentle constant pressure.’

Maddie let out a roar of laughter. ‘Are we talking éclairs?’

Sebastian had already moved on with a murmured, ‘Well done Marguerite.’

‘Don’t worry everyone, it just takes a bit of practice and don’t forget this morning is just the start. We’ve got seven weeks to perfect your technique. I realise some of you may not have used a piping bag before and today it’s about getting the consistency of the pastry right.’

Once everyone’s éclairs were piped and Nina had written their names on the greaseproof paper before sliding the trays into the oven, they stopped for a coffee. She couldn’t believe that it was already half past eleven. While everyone trooped out, Nina picked up Sebastian’s discarded icing bag and refilled it, taking the opportunity to have a go herself. Sebastian was absorbed in the laptop he’d switched on the minute the others turned to leave.

A big fat blob exploded from the tip with a splat. ‘Oops,’ said Nina, stepping back but increasing her hold on the bag at the same time, which made things worse; the mixture oozed out of the tip in a big fat trail over the edge of the baking tray like an escapee worm. This was harder than it looked and now she couldn’t let go of the bag without making more mess. She stood there for a second feeling totally incompetent as she heard Sebastian clumping towards her.

‘Here.’ Sebastian stood behind her and rather than take the bulging bag from her hand, he put his hand over hers and slid it under the weight of the bag. ‘Use your left hand to gently cup the bag, don’t squeeze with it.’ That gentle, encouraging tone with a hint of chocolate brought back memories. She’d always loved his voice. Sometimes when he spoke quietly it held a certain timbre that ran over her skin like an electric current.

His shoulder brushed hers as he leaned forward to take her right hand, making her conscious of his nearness. A sudden flush of heat raced over her body, aware now of his height beside her, of his strong arms as the silky hairs on his forearm tickled the skin on her wrist, and the sense of warmth emanating from his body.

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