Christmas Wishes at the Chocolate Shop

by Jessica Redland

  ‘I see your logic. In that case, I’ll add Libby to the toast because, if she hadn’t let me go, I might have continued to make the biggest mistake of my life out of some stupid, misguided sense of loyalty, duty and long-gone feelings for her.’

  ‘To Ricky, Gabby and Libby,’ we said, toasting each other.

  ‘What are we toasting?’ a voice said behind me.

  I turned round and squealed. Pierre and Stacey had made it after all. I hugged them both. ‘I thought you couldn’t get here until tomorrow.’

  ‘We told Gabby you know our family secret,’ Pierre said. ‘And we told her that we are together at last and very happy. She had a strop and told us to spend New Year with you, so we called her bluff and said yes we would so here we are!’

  I put my hand to my cheek and shook my head. ‘I’m sorry she didn’t take it well. Maybe with time…?’

  ‘Oh my goodness!’ Stacey gasped. ‘What’s that on your finger?’

  ‘Ah yes,’ I said, moving my hand from my cheek and gazing at my ring. ‘We’ve got some news for you…’

  As midnight approached, I sipped on my champagne, taking in the laughter and the genuine warmth from friends and family, new and old. I thought about Christmas Day and New Year’s Day last year when I’d been a mess, crying for the loss of my family and my boyfriend and rueing the day I’d moved to Whitsborough Bay. I could never have imagined that, just a year later, I’d have a family, a fiancé, a dream home and an award-winning business. Talk about a tale of two Christmases. They couldn’t have been more extreme!

  I could imagine Nanna and Grandpa smiling down on me right now, joyous that my wishes had all come true, including finding a love just like theirs. Matt was made from the same mould as Grandpa: an absolute gent, passionate about his work, devoted to his friends and family, and liked by all who met him. What a shame they’d never get to meet him but, if they’d still been around, I’d never have come to Whitsborough Bay so we’d never have met. Things were obviously exactly how they were meant to be.

  ‘Five… four… three… two… one… Happy New Year!’

  As streamer cannons and party poppers exploded round us, Matt and I stood in the middle of the haybarn, arms round each other, and kissed. Six weeks ago, Jodie had challenged me to spend New Year’s Eve kissing Matt or kissing our friendship goodbye. I’d expected the latter and had to pinch myself that it was actually the former, and that it wouldn’t only be a New Year’s Eve kiss. I could kiss him any time I liked.

  There was a chorus of ‘Auld Lang Syne’ as the guests exchanged kisses, hugs and clinked glasses. I nudged Matt and pointed towards Dean approaching Jodie at the other side of the barn. I sighed as he kissed her on the cheek and gave her a hug.

  ‘Give them time,’ Matt whispered. ‘It’ll happen when it’s right for them both, just like it did for us. And just like it has for your parents.’ He nodded towards where Pierre and Stacey were locked in a kiss. My heart melted for them, reunited after all these years, and I felt nothing but excitement at the thought of spending more time with my dad and getting to know my mum this New Year.

  The lights dimmed a little further.

  ‘It’s time to grab your nearest and dearest for a little smooch to a song that means a lot to the future Mr and Mrs Richards,’ announced the DJ.

  I glanced at Matt, tears in my eyes, as Daniel Bedingfield’s soft voice sang the opening line to ‘If You’re Not the One.’

  He kissed me gently then wrapped his arms round me and held me close as we swayed to the music. ‘We might have to find a new song,’ he whispered. ‘Because you are the one. Forever. Happy New Year, Charlee!’

  ‘Happy New Year, Matt!’ And I had no doubt whatsoever that it would be. An extremely happy one.

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you so much for reading Christmas Wishes at the Chocolate Shop. I hope you enjoyed Charlee’s heartwarming story about two very different Christmases as much as I loved creating Charlee, Jodie, Matt (and even Ricky – villains are so much fun to create!) as well as the delectable Charlee’s Chocolates.

  This book was originally released under the title of Charlee and the Chocolate Shop for Christmas 2017 and it was the first Christmas book I ever wrote. It was an independent release but I struggled to make an impact as an indie author and was thrilled to receive a traditional publishing deal from the amazing Boldwood Books in 2019. Boldwood acquired the rights to my entire backlist and Christmas Wishes at the Chocolate Shop is the very last book from that list to get the Boldwood polish and a re-issue.

  It’s been a challenging edit because my writing style has developed over my years as an author and I noticed the change in this particular book more than any of my others. Even though readers of the original version loved it, it didn’t pack the emotional punch my stories usually have so, instead of the quick edit my editor and I original anticipated, it became a mammoth exercise where I added in several new scenes and restructured most of the sentences while still keeping the overall story the same. I love it all the more and hope you do too.

  Because Charlee’s grandparents were such an important part of her life, if felt appropriate to dedicate this to mine, none of whom are with us today. Louisa Jane and Ted were my dad’s parents who died in 2000 and 2006, respectively. My grandma was a wonderful woman. Every time I think of her, I picture a Yorkshire Terrier tucked under her arm, and her laughing as she tried to tell a joke and messed up the punchline. She came from the generation who always wore a housecoat, had tea at 4 p.m. and kept a room at home ‘for best’ which basically meant it never got used! My older brother and I would sometimes stay with her during the school holidays and she’d take us on a walk which she called a ‘magical mystery tour’. We were allowed to help ourselves to some goodies from her sweetie drawer (only a grandparent would have a sweetie drawer) and we’d have to run past ‘the witch’s house’ a few doors up. It was years later when she actually admitted she had no idea who lived in that particular house, never mind whether they were a witch! If you’ve read any of my other books, you may have spotted these traits in other grandmothers as they were too delightful not to use!

  My granda, Ted, wasn’t the easiest of men but I relished the occasional moments where his cheeky sense of humour shone through and I’ll always remember his delight when I bought him a hot water bottle one Christmas with a soft cover in the shape of a chimp. He absolutely loved it and I’ll always cherish a photo I have of him cuddling it and my grandma cuddling her teddy bear version.

  Polly and Jack were my mum’s parents. Sadly I never met Polly as she died when Mum was eighteen. My granda Jack died when I was only eight so I didn’t know him well but I do have fond memories of him being a lovely man and I also remember him always having jars of sweets in his kitchen. Hmm, sweets seem to be a common theme in my memories of my grandparents which is perhaps what subconsciously led me to writing a story set in a chocolate shop where grandparents were a strong influence.

  I loved writing a story set in a chocolaterie and particularly enjoyed my research. I couldn’t possibly write about a chocolate shop without spending time in one and sampling lots of chocolates, could I? I already had a fairly good knowledge of chocolate-making as I’d worked for Nestlé for several years and spent time in their UK-based chocolate factories. However, that was chocolate production on a large scale and I needed to understand what might happen in a small independent business instead.

  I’m extremely grateful to Amelia Forrest, former owner of Amelia’s Chocolate in Scarborough who agreed to me being her apprentice for the day. She demonstrated every part of the process, showed me her product ranges, and talked about running the business side. Running a small business is something I have knowledge of as I ran my own teddy bear shop for two years, but this was very different to running a chocolate shop where the products are made fresh on site rather than bought in from suppliers. I was honoured when Amelia let me help her make and package the favours for her own impending wedding and, of cou
rse, sample a few. It was hard, but somebody had to do it ;-) Yummy! Sadly, Amelia’s Chocolate ceased trading in summer 2019 so I wish Amelia well and hope she’s still making her amazing chocolates.

  I owe an enormous gratitude to my original team of beta readers. Jo Bartlett and Sharon Booth are extremely talented authors whose work I can’t recommend enough and Jo is now part of #TeamBoldwood. They both gave me insightful feedback on where the story could be tweaked. My mum, Joyce, plus my close friends, Susan and Liz, were also invaluable in helping smooth out the edges. They were good at spotting typos, questioning gaps, and identifying any repetition or unexplained parts including those moments when I’d gone far too Northern and they didn’t know what I was wittering on about!

  For this edited version, my biggest thanks go to my fabulous editor, Nia Beynon, who has worked on every one of my books to date and is completely embroiled in the worlds of Whitsborough Bay and Hedgehog Hollow. Nia gives such insightful feedback to improve the story and the way it’s written. Also from Boldwood, thank you to Claire Fenby for the amazing digital marketing support.

  Thank you to Sue Lamprell for the sterling work as copy editor and proofreader, Debbie Clement for the simply divine cover (my new favourite), Rachel Gilbey for organising another fabulous blog tour, Emma Swan for her vocal talents as the narrator on the audio version, and ISIS Audio and Ulverscroft for the recording and distribution of the audiobook.

  My final thanks go to you, my wonderfully supportive readers. Not only is Christmas Wishes at the Chocolate Shop the final book in my backlist for a Boldwood re-release, it’s also the final book in my original twelve-book contract with them. All twelve of those books have been published in a two-year period and it has been a phenomenal two years during which I have gone from being an invisible, struggling indie writer trying to squeeze in writing round a demanding full-time day job to being a bestselling full-time author; my dream come true. Thanks to the fabulous work from Boldwood Books and all your love and support for my stories, I have secured another twelve-book deal through which to bring you many more brand new uplifting stories of love, friendship and community.

  I read every review and I appreciate every single message of support and encouragement. The kindness and the book love from the reading and blogging community has been outstanding and I am so incredibly grateful for everything you’ve all done. Please do follow me on social media, check out my Pinterest boards for visual inspiration behind each of my books, and keep reviewing and recommending my stories to your friends and family. Thank you again from the bottom of my heart.

  Big hugs

  Jessica xx

  More from Jessica Redland

  We hope you enjoyed reading Christmas Wishes at the Chocolate Shop. If you did, please leave a review.

  * * *

  If you’d like to gift a copy, this book is also available as a paperback, digital audio download and audiobook CD.

  * * *

  Sign up to Jessica Redland’s mailing list here for news, competitions and updates on future books.

  * * *

  You can buy All You Need Is Love, another wonderful novel from Jessica Redland, by clicking on the image below. Or read on for an exclusive extract…

  Chapter 1

  Jemma

  Three years ago – 21st May

  ‘Mum!’ I called up the stairs. ‘Mum! The hearse is here.’ I cocked my head to one side, listening for her reply. Nothing. What was she doing up there? She’d told me forty minutes ago that she was ‘almost ready’ and, as she isn’t one of those women who spends hours teasing one strand of hair into place, there was no reason to disbelieve her. Of all the mornings to take forever, why choose today? Shaking my head, I opened the front door to Mum’s cottage, Bear’s Pad, before Mr Golding, the funeral director, had a chance to lift the grizzly-bear knocker.

  ‘Good morning, Ms Browne.’ He gave a reverential bow of his head. ‘We’re ready when you are.’

  ‘Thank you. We’ll be out in five minutes.’ I glanced back towards the stairs. ‘Actually, it could be ten. Do we have time?’

  ‘Ten minutes is no problem.’

  My throat tightened as I glanced past him to the black limousine parked on the sloped driveway and the hearse parked on the road. It was still hard to take in. This wasn’t a day I’d expected to experience for several decades.

  I tried not to curl my lip up at the orange and yellow floral lettering arrangement resting against the side of the coffin. I hated it but Logan, my seven-year-old brother, had requested it because his best friend Billy Thomas had apparently told him that people who didn’t have one were mean and that the dead would come back to haunt them. I could have throttled Billy Thomas. Logan also wanted a floral teddy bear to thoroughly protect him against any risk of ghosts but Mum and I had managed to talk him out of that. The deceased would not have been impressed with a bear. He probably would have haunted us for that.

  ‘Mum!’ I called again after I’d closed the door. Still no answer. Just a lot of clattering and banging.

  ‘What’s Mum doing?’ Logan looked up from where he was playing with his Lego on the lounge rug. ‘She’s being very noisy.’

  ‘I’ve no idea, but I’m about to find out. Have you been to the toilet?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Can you do that while I check on Mum? And make sure you wash your hands.’

  He put down his Lego and pouted. ‘I always do.’

  ‘Logan! What have we discussed about telling fibs?’

  ‘Okay. I promise I’ll wash them. You can smell them if you want.’

  I smiled at him. ‘Tempting, but I might pass on that.’

  Logan headed past me and through the kitchen, giggling as he made a big show of sniffing at his hands. Happy that he was doing as asked, I kicked off my stilettos and ran up the stairs. I paused for a moment outside Mum’s bedroom listening to the racket, punctuated with the occasional expletive, then pushed open the door and gasped.

  ‘Oh my God! What’s going on? Mum! Why aren’t you ready?’

  Wrapped in a fluffy cream towel, Mum turned to face me and blew a wisp of dark hair out of her face.

  ‘I only bought them on Saturday,’ she said, as if that explained why half the contents of her drawers were strewn all over the floor.

  ‘Bought what on Saturday?’

  ‘Black knickers. An M&S three-pack. But I can’t find them, Jemma.’

  ‘Where did you last have them?’

  She planted her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes at me. ‘Why do people always say that? If I knew the answer, then this wouldn’t have happened, would it?’ She waved her arm across the carnage.

  ‘The hearse is here,’ I said, equally unhelpfully.

  Mum frowned. ‘I thought they weren’t due till 10.15.’

  ‘It is 10.15. Well, near enough.’

  She twisted round to look at her bedside clock. ‘Crap! Why didn’t you call me sooner?’

  ‘Because you told me you were nearly ready forty minutes ago and because I was busy with Logan.’

  ‘Logan? Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry, Jemma. Is he ready?’

  ‘Yes. He’s downstairs waiting. We need to go in about seven minutes. Can you manage without the knickers?’

  Her eyes widened. ‘Jemma-bear! Are you suggesting that I go commando to your father’s funeral? I’m not sure that’s appropriate.’

  I laughed loudly – also not appropriate for a funeral. ‘I didn’t mean go without any knickers. I just meant without the new black ones.’

  ‘Oh! That makes more sense. I suppose I’d better. I can’t believe I lost track of time like that. Give me five minutes. Hair and make-up are done. It’s just clothes I need.’ She bent down and plucked a pair of scarlet lacy knickers from the pile on the floor. ‘Sod it. I’ll say goodbye in style.’ She paused as she stared at the knickers in her hands. ‘Do you know what? The last time I wore these was the night Logan was conceived. That was the end of our marriage and today�
�s the end of everything for him. How apt.’

  I didn’t know what to say to that so I closed the door behind me and headed downstairs to check that Logan had washed his hands, hopefully without having to sniff them.

  I’ll never forget the day I discovered I was going to have a new brother or sister because it was the day that Dad packed up his stuff and moved out. I’d recently turned eighteen, had finished my A Levels and was working in Mum’s shop, Bear With Me, before going away to university. It was a surprise to overhear her telling Dad that she was pregnant and a greater shock to hear that the baby was his because I’d been aware for a long time that my parents had a marriage in name only.

  Growing up, I remembered them constantly arguing but then the arguments seemed to stop. Dad moved into the spare room and they somehow managed to co-exist in the same house while living completely separate lives. Dad acted more like a lodger than a husband or father. He spent all his time at work or the golf club, only venturing home to eat, shower, or sleep.

  Dad had worked in a bank since leaving school – a steady, sensible career. Mum, on the other hand, had an amazingly exciting jet-setting career. When I was four, she’d set up a specialist teddy bear shop, Bear With Me, in the North Yorkshire seaside town of Whitsborough Bay where we lived. A genius with a sewing machine, she designed and made a range of jointed teddies called Ju-Sea Bears. Her talent was recognised with a stint as the guest bear artist for some of the leading collectible bear manufacturers. Her Ju-Sea Bears became highly sought-after which took her all over the world to exhibitions and shows. And as if that didn’t keep her busy enough, she valued teddy bears for both a local and a national auction house.