Caroline Roberts - The Cosy Christmas Chocolate Shop - The perfect, feel good romantic comedy to curl up with this Christmas!

But the massive implications were starting to sink in. Emma began to feel sick.

For the rest of the afternoon Emma’s stomach was churning and her mind was on fast-spin. She could see all the dreams she had had, the business she had grown, her home and her new life here in this lovely village by the sea, all come crashing down. If she couldn’t meet the new rent payments, what then?

As soon as the shop closed that day, despite it turning dusky outside, Emma headed down for her usual walk past the harbour and towards the dunes to the sea. There was no one else on the beach, just a few terns who would soon be ready to go home to roost. Home … That thought, that word, made her heart sink even more. Where would home be, if it couldn’t be here?

She could try and rent a new cottage locally, she supposed, but without the business, or a job, where would that leave her? And where else could she lease new premises that would work as a chocolate shop, have the kitchen space she’d need and offer accommodation; somewhere where the tourists would flow and she wouldn’t have to pay more rent than now? That seemed a challenge too far, and veered towards looking for a miracle.

But she wasn’t a quitter, and she wasn’t ready to hand in her notice on The Chocolate Shop by the Sea just yet. There had to be a way.

She strolled along the sands, Alfie trotting by her side. She wasn’t afraid of the dark, or the beach, or of being on her own – she’d done that for long enough, after all. But she was afraid of losing all the things she had built here, and that she knew, by the desperate, sinking feeling in her heart and soul right now, she had grown to love.

She needed someone to talk all this over with. Someone she trusted, who knew her well, but who would also have a business sense, and be able to give sound advice. Her brother, James, was just that person.

‘Right, what’s up, sis?’ James confronted her as they sat in his kitchen.

He knew her so well. She tried to keep her emotions in check in her daily life. In fact, some people might say she came across as slightly cool at times – but that had been a preservation instinct from those toughest of times when she had to try and carry on and keep a brave face. But with James it was different. She was his big sister, and as well as he knew her, she knew him inside out too – his moods, his light, his shade, which exact buttons to press to wind him up within seconds. She’d mastered that at the age of five! And he’d seen her through the very worst of times; held her as she sobbed, provided a sofa, chili con carne – the only meal he could cook back then – bottles of lager and empathy in his shared Newcastle flat when he was starting out as an accountant. He’d helped to bring her back from the brink when she was at rock bottom.

Now he lived in a three-bedroomed house in a hamlet just outside of the market town of Alnwick. Her five-year-old nieces, Lucy and Olivia, had still been up when Emma had got there, so Emma hadn’t felt it was right to start chatting about her troubles straight away. Chloe, James’s wife, was upstairs with the girls now, settling them in bed as they had to be up for school in the morning. They’d loved the chocolate cat and dog figures Emma had brought for them. Just a small gift, but the hugs Emma had received in return were mammoth. It was nice that something so simple could make them so happy. She loved living near to them, being close enough to drop in. Would that still be possible in the coming months?

‘It’s not like you to phone and then want to come across straight away. So …?’

‘You’re right. I need to talk something over with you.’ Emma was sitting at their large wooden kitchen table. This room was definitely the heart of the house. James sat opposite her. They were similar in looks, with their red hair and striking green-grey eyes. Emma’s hair was a lot curlier, though she styled it to a more manageable wave nowadays. James’s was more of a sandy colour, going towards a strawberry-blonde. They’d both used to get teased for their red locks at school but James had just laughed it off; being good at sport, tall, and good-looking, he countered the taunts of ‘Ginga’ with his own ‘Ninja Ginga’, and being very good at taikwondo, he used to frighten them off with an air kick.

Emma had been less confident as a younger teenager, soldiering on in the face of the comments. But then, the bullies would pick on you for anything really – being too tall, too short, wearing glasses, being clever, not being clever. Children could be cruel, and teenage peer pressure seemed to bring out the worst in the bullies. Since when did we all have to fit the same mould? Like chocolates, it was the variety that was so lovely.

But suddenly it all changed: at the age of sixteen her hair began drawing lots more attention, positive attention, and later, when she met Luke, he told her he absolutely loved it. She was taken aback by that after years of taunts, and in their early, sensual days she remembered him running his hands through her long locks. He used to love it falling over him when they were making love.

‘Em? So, what is it you need to talk about?’

‘Ah, right, sorry. Yes, me coming here … I really needed to chat something over with someone. Someone I trusted.’

James raised his eyebrows, interested and concerned. ‘So?’

‘Oh, James, the bloody landlord is hiking up the rent on the shop and the cottage, big time. There’s no way I’ll be able to afford it. I’m only just making ends meet as it is. And I can’t just whack all my prices up, I’m pretty sure I’d lose my regular customers if I did. But the thought of having to leave, my business, my home, everything …’

‘Oh, bloody hell, Em. That’s such a tough one. What’s the price rise? Do you think there’s any room for negotiation?’

‘A hundred and fifty pounds extra each month. And I doubt he’ll negotiate. He’s a miserable sod at the best of times. I’m sure he’s hoping I’ll leave. Nine hundred pounds a month he wants and he’s asked for me to give my notice, if that’s out of my budget, which he bloody knows it will be.’ She started to chew at a hangnail on her index finger. ‘I probably do pay a fair price at the moment, and it’s not risen for three years, but last time it only rose by fifty pounds per month. He says he could ask for even more with a new tenant, and I reckon he’s looking at a holiday cottage option too. Warkton is getting far more popular with the tourists now.’

‘But surely that will help your business in the future?’

‘Maybe, yes, but even with a slight rise in trade this coming year, I still don’t think I can cover costs like that.’

‘No.’ James rubbed his chin, thinking. He angled his long legs out under the table. ‘What about trying to expand the business a bit to source some extra income – going along to local markets, craft fairs, things like that?’

‘Well, I suppose I could give it a try. The run-up to Christmas might be good for that, but that’s a long way off for now. And then I’d need cover at the shop, or at least to send someone else out to do that for me, so I’d have to pay extra wages. But, it’s certainly food for thought. Might be problematic in the summertime, a stall, that is – you couldn’t keep the chocolate chilled enough. How do I temperature-control a market stand without having to pay out on a load of equipment?’

‘Not sure … Hmm, might be tricky. Just thinking out loud. Perhaps that’s not one of my better ideas.’

‘No, no. It’s good brainstorming like this, and you’re trying to think practically. I’ve been wracking my brains since the letter landed, and I’ve not come up with any magic answers yet.’ She very much doubted there was a magic answer.