If you can't live without a daily bite of chocolate, have visions of chocolate truffles dancing in your head, you will savor the decadence of this collection of stories.

Chicken Soup for the Chocolate Lover's Soul celebrates the chocoholic's undeniable passion for indulgence in all things chocolate--whether white, milk, or dark; frozen, powdered, pudding, or pie; melted or whipped.

Meet fellow fanatics who have gone the extra mile all in the name of chocolate, revel in stories of romance and friendship that have been sweetened by chocolate and read how the sweet smell of anything cocoa has impacted and enhanced the lives of so many.

Throughout this entertaining collection of stories, you will also find delicious morsels of interesting trivia, informative history, and humorous anecdotes.

So sit back with this book (and your favorite chocolate treat, of course!) and let the decadence of Chicken Soup for the Chocolate Lover's Soul add even more richness and sweetness into your life.

1
Delectable Delights

Fifteen-Cent Surprise
You're on my list of things I love most—
right below chocolate.
Mary Englund Murphy

It was December 1963. Jack and I wanted to give each other something special on our first Christmas together, but we had no extra money for gifts. We had dated, fallen in love, and married all in the span of three months. We were young, in love, and broke—flat broke.

Jack was a private in the Marine Corps. He was stationed at the Naval Weapons Station, Charleston, South Carolina. The nicest house we could afford on Jack's ninety-dollar-a-month salary was half of a rickety old duplex. It sat smack-dab in the middle of a cow pasture on the backside of Goose Creek. It was drafty, the roof leaked, and it had no hot water. But we were together, and that was what mattered most to us.

Unknown to me, as December rolled along, Jack was determined to surprise me with something on our first Christmas together. On December 19, he hid a small hatchet under his field jacket. He slid his hands into his work gloves, pulled his cap down to keep his ears warm, and took a moonlit stroll to the back side of the cow pasture. About an hour later he returned with a pathetic little pine tree and a huge grin. That little tree's scrawny branches spread out like angel's wings to me. I welcomed the surprise with childish delight.

'Here's an empty coffee can, Jack. We can stand the tree in it,' I said. Jack filled the coffee can with South Carolina clay and jammed the tree's tiny trunk into it. I draped one of my scarves around the can. Then I decorated the pitiful tree with my earrings, necklaces, and bracelets. The rhinestones glittered like tinsel. 'It's not the biggest tree in the world, but it's the most beautiful Christmas tree I've ever had,' I said as I planted a kiss on Jack's cheek. I leaned on his strong shoulder and sighed with happiness.

But Jack wasn't satisfied. He wanted a gift to place under that tree. On Christmas Eve he stopped at the PX on his way home from duty. He had a grand total of twenty-one cents in his pocket. For an hour he walked up and down the aisles searching for something—anything—he could buy for the love of his life with such meager ­savings. He had almost given up when his eyes locked on to a small sign that read '15¢.' He grabbed one, paid for it, and headed home with his treasure tucked inside the pocket of his field jacket.

That night Jack and I ate bologna sandwiches in front of our Christmas tree. We sang Christmas carols and snuggled near the gas space heater. Around midnight Jack disappeared into the bedroom. He reappeared with his right hand hidden behind his back. His mouth went dry and his hands shook as he announced, 'Close your eyes now. It's a surprise.'

'Oh, Jack, you shouldn't have spent money on a gift. We can't afford it.' 
'I couldn't let Christmas come and go without doing something special for the most beautiful girl in the world. Close your eyes, and hold out your hand.'
I must admit I was excited. I giggled like a kid. Jack placed his treasure in my open palm. 'I know it isn't much. But, well, it's your favorite and you're my favorite.' He exhaled loudly. 'Merry Christmas!'

I opened my eyes. Resting in my palm was a miniature box containing four chocolate-covered confections. I pulled the little treasure close to my heart, then wrapped both arms around my hero's neck.

'This is the most wonderful gift I've ever received. It's so good to be loved by you, Jack. I can't believe that you're all mine. You're the best thing about my life.'

In the years that followed, our finances improved. Each Christmas the trees got fancier. Each year the presents got bigger and more expensive. But for thirty-four Christmases one gift occupied a place of honor under our Christmas tree. Every year until his death, Jack gave me his love—wrapped in a box of chocolate. And every year he became more and more my hero.

Jean Tomlinson
As told to Jean Matthew Hall

Skinny Dotty and Her Chocolates

All I really need is love, but a little chocolate now and then doesn't hurt!
Lucy Van Pelt
Peanuts, Charles M. Schulz

Dorri Olds

Cards and Kisses

I believe there's biblical evidence that
confirms there will be chocolate in heaven. Revelation 7:17 says there will be no more tears. That pretty much cinches it for me.
Rhonda Rhea

It was Valentine's Day, and we were broke. It wasn't uncommon for us to be low on funds. Raising three kids on a pastor's salary often left us with 'too much month at the end of the money.' My husband, Bruce, complained, 'You're my valentine and I don't have anything for you on Valentine's Day. I don't have money for flowers, much less jewelry.'

Trying to comfort him, I explained, 'You don't have to get me expensive stuff. We try to teach the folks at church not to go into debt when a heartfelt card is more than enough.' Bruce took my heartfelt card idea to heart.

That afternoon I stopped by the church office after picking the kids up from school. Bruce waved me into his office and presented me with a bright red envelope and a small bag of Hershey's Kisses before he headed downstairs to a meeting. Opening the card, I found myself lost in the words and the images as tears welled up in my eyes.

The secretary called to me from the outer office, bringing me back to reality, 'I have some questions about brochures for the upcoming women's event. Can you help me?' she asked. I laid the card down on my husband's desk and yelled back, 'I'll be right there.' 

I wasn't gone for more than twenty minutes, but when I returned, I found my oldest daughter, Sarah, curled up like a cat in her dad's wingback chair, cradling the card carefully in her lap and polishing off what little was left of the Hershey's Kisses. 'This card is beautiful, Mom,' she cooed, stroking it with her sticky, chocolate-covered fingers. 'Who gave it to you?'

'Well, I hope Daddy did, considering what it says.' I chuckled.
'It's the most awesome card I've ever seen,' she responded, batting her big blue eyes as only a thirteen-year-old girl with a headful of romantic notions could do. Just then my husband walked through his office door. Grabbing him around the neck I planted a big kiss—one on each cheek. 'Wow, what was that for?'
'The first kiss was for my beautiful card; the second one was for teaching our daughter by example to choose a man who will love and cherish her,' I whispered in his ear.

'I need to give you more cards,' Bruce smiled.
'And chocolate,' I quipped as we all gathered up my things to head home. I kept the card out on the kitchen counter to enjoy for a while before I tucked it into my keepsake drawer to remember forever.

Eight Valentine's Days passed and that beautiful blue-eyed thirteen-year-old was now a blushing bride. I opened my keepsake drawer, looking for grandma's jewelry to offer her something old to go with the something new and borrowed to round out her wedding repertoire. There next to grandma's pearls was the Valentine's Day card—complete with chocolate fingerprints.

The experts are right: values are caught not taught. Sarah was about to marry Shaun, who adored her just like her daddy adored her mom. And now it's Shaun's turn to keep his admiring wife in beautiful cards and chocolate Kisses—forever.    

Linda Newton

©2007. Jean Tomlinson, Dorri Olds, and Linda Newton. All rights reserved. Reprinted from Chicken Soup for the Chocolate Lover's Soul by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen, and Patricia Lorenz. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the written permission of the publisher. Publisher: Health Communications, Inc., 3201 SW 15th Street , Deerfield Beach , FL 33442.