Praise for Nina Harrington

      ‘I look forward to reading this author’s next release …

      and her next … and her next. It truly is a stunning debut,

      with characters that will remain in your thoughts

      long after you have closed the book.’

      —pinkheartsocietyreviews.blogspot.com on

      Always the Bridesmaid

      ‘Rich with emotion,

      and pairing two truly special characters,

      this beautiful story is simply unforgettable. A keeper.’

      —RT Book Reviews on

      Hired: Sassy Assistant

      ‘A well-constructed plot and a scrumptious,

      larger-than-life hero combined with generous amounts

      of humour and pathos make for an excellent read.’

      —RT Book Reviews on

      Tipping the Waitress with Diamonds

       About the Author

      NINA HARRINGTON grew up in rural Northumberland, England, and decided at the age of eleven that she was going to be a librarian—because then she could read all of the books in the public library whenever she wanted! Since then she has been a shop assistant, community pharmacist, technical writer, university lecturer, volcano walker and industrial scientist, before taking a career break to realise her dream of being a fiction writer. When she is not creating stories which make her readers smile, her hobbies are cooking, eating, enjoying good wine—and talking, for which she has had specialist training.

       Also by Nina Harrington

      The Boy is Back in Town

      Her Moment in the Spotlight

      The Last Summer of Being Single

      Tipping the Waitress with Diamonds

      Hired: Sassy Assistant

      Always the Bridesmaid

       Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

       When Chocolate is Not Enough…

      Nina Harrington

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      CHAPTER ONE

       MAKE your hen party extra special with our Luxury Chocolate Man Parts!

      Max Treveleyn stopped in his tracks and stared in astonishment at the espresso and cream-coloured banner splashed across the top of the food stall promoting ‘Tara’s Tantalising Party Treats’.

      This was central London, and party catering was big business. But ‘man parts’? It was the last thing he had expected to see at a classy organic food festival.

      Max peered over the heads of the ladies who were clustered around the stall, jostling for a position in line to try the samples before making their selections. He didn’t want to think about what they would do with them when they got home—but this stall was certainly doing brisk business for a Monday lunchtime.

      He glanced swiftly at the digital clock on the wall above the entrance to the underground station. He had twenty minutes at most to find the art gallery where he had arranged to meet his ex-wife Kate for lunch—but he could spare a few of those minutes to find out just how far organic chocolate had come since his last visit to London.

      It was only as he got closer that Max realised that a short, bubbly blonde girl was running the stall, completely concealed behind the crush of customers who were waving cash and pointing furiously at the trays of remarkably life-size and anatomically correct shapes.

      The blonde was wearing a T-shirt with the words ‘Tara’s Treats’ across the front. In another place, with a different audience, those words might be misconstrued—especially since the T-shirt was rather on the small side for a girl with a substantial bosom.

      Perhaps this was the famous Tara herself?

      The party treats seemed to be going down extremely well, and it took Max a few minutes to shuffle forward and find a gap in the queue. If only the organic chocolate he made was as popular as this he would never have to worry again about the future of his cocoa plantation back in St Lucia. But, then again, perhaps moulded chocolate man parts were not exactly the premium outlet he needed to bring in extra income.

      The blonde looked up at him, blinked twice, then grinned. ‘Hello, handsome. Looking for something for your stag party? I have just the thing.’ She reached over the counter and pulled out a tray of milk chocolate shapes which literally took Max’s breath away. ‘It’s your lucky day—we have a special offer on all body parts. How many would you like?’

      He coughed politely before shaking his head. ‘Um … Thank you, but I don’t need any milk chocolate toes today—although I am sure they are quite delicious,’ he said, when he finally managed to get some air into his lungs. ‘But would you mind if I took some photographs of your stall? It certainly is … er … different.’

      She glared at him open-mouthed for a second, before throwing her head back and laughing out loud with a laugh that echoed around the London street where the festival was being held. It was the kind of laugh that meant that she had to snort in a breath halfway through.

      ‘Daisy! One of our gentleman browsers wants to photograph your chocs. Are you okay with that?’

      Max looked over the blonde’s shoulder towards a tall brunette wearing chef’s trousers and a white jacket, who was rummaging around inside large plastic food boxes. As the brunette flicked a glance towards Max her eyes smiled at the same time as her mouth, crinkling the sides of her cheeks into a rosy glow, so that when she spoke her face was animated and full of laughter and fun.

      ‘Only if he buys something. Here.’ She whisked around and presented him with a box of flesh-coloured chocolate half domes made into bosoms, with a circle of caramel icing in the centre. A dark chocolate cocoa bean added the final realistic touch. ‘I also have them in a mocha choc blend, if you would prefer that,’ she added. ‘Or perhaps the lovely Tara can tempt you with some of each? All organic chocolate, of course, and hand-made by the person you are looking at.’

      The brunette waved the box under Max’s nose, and without intending to he half closed his eyes and inhaled the wonderful aroma of fine chocolate and soft fruit. His nose came a lot closer than he had planned to one of the chocolate cocoa beans, and he physically recoiled the instant he opened his eyes and focused on what was in front of him.

      ‘Wow. That chocolate smells amazing. And is that a touch of raspberry?’ he asked.

      ‘Fresh organic raspberry coulis and vanilla extract.’ She nodded. ‘But tell me now if you want some, because all my boobs are selling out fast ahead of the stag and hen party season. June is such a wonderful month to get married, don’t you think?’

      A visual flash of memory hit Max hard. Sparkling champagne, kilts and plaid, and Scottish dancing in the tiny frigid village hall chosen by Kate’s parents for their wedding. Their June wedding had turned out to be cold, wet and windy, but he had not felt it for a moment. They had both been so young and idealistic, with crazy dreams of their new life in St Lucia.

      Shame that the hard reality of that life had burst their bubble only too quickly.

      A bustle of ladies looking for unique party treats