Dark Chocolate Cookie Run Novels & Stories

Fleur’s Point of View A sense of gratitude started my mood, for I just finished cutting a block of dark chocolate that I had newly mixed in the cookie dough. It still needs to chill for tomorrow’s batch of orders. The whole room, No! The entire apartment is being consumed by the yummy base notes of vanilla.

Zlata Likhachyova’s corner bakery has always been popular, ever since I can remember. She’s famous for her freshly baked cookies and Medovik (honey cakes.) That familiar warm, sweet smell filled my nostrils invitingly as I hurried inside. Three people bundled up in heavy jackets and warm clothing waited patiently for their orders, sitting in the only four available seats. I used to hound Zlata about buying a larger space, but she’d wave me off and give me something to “stick my nose in so I’d stay out of her business.” Crowds would come and go, and there were days I’d be rolling out dough, baking, and layering the final products with rich creamy icing without any breaks for eight hours strai

Unable to stop it. No. I refused to stand here and cry. I needed answers, facts and proof. Not feelings. I headed straight back to the dining hall. Most of the festival guests had already left, and servants moved quietly through the room, cleaning the aftermath in silence. My gaze swept over the scattered remains of the celebration until something caught my attention. A cookie lay half-hidden beneath a table. Untouched. I crouched and carefully picked it up with a napkin. The scent reached me immediately—honey, milk, and butter, with a faint bitter note lurking beneath the sweetness.

I fell asleep immediately my body touched the bed. I wake up at exactly 8am, head for the shower and freshen up. I head to Brown with Gerald for breakfast, and after breakfast we head out to the winery. Once we got to the winery, I handed Gerald over to Charlie and headed for the shop across. I get in and hear the calmest voice. “Welcome to Ame’s Chocolate shop, how can I help you?” She asks without looking at me. “Charlie said to come back the next day for the cake, and that’s today.” I tell her, and she looks up. She has some dent of flour on her face and apron.

As if hearing her thoughts, Abby stood up all serious now, "There's only one thing to do now, and it's our only chance." "What's that, then?" Maya listened intently, ready for a way out of her situation. Abby pulled close, her voice low, and said, "We run, Maya, we run!" **** "Jesus Christ, Maya, that was a fucking huge mistake," Luca groaned, eyes on Maya, who had decided to stand, as she faced him in Damon's workspace. When she had walked into the manor at four that evening, she had to wait for Luca, whom Lina said had left to take care of something

“This is disgusting.” “You signed up for this!” Piper sing songs. One by one, we sniff and prod the gooey brown messes, trying to guess if it’s a Snickers, Milky Way, or Goddess help us, Nutella. Ronan actually tastes one, and we all recoil in horror as he proudly announces, “Hershey’s.” The third game is my favorite.

I asked her, knowing I'd be the one to run the errand. "Coconut and oatmeal cookies," she replied, looking at Tristan. "And which would you like?" she asked, directing the question to Tristan. Without thinking, I answered at the same time as him, "Chocolate fudge cookies." An awkward silence followed. I saw Natasha's displeasure in her eyes, and I realised my mistake. My unintended response made her uncomfortable, and Tristan's expression showed disapproval. "I apologise," I managed to say, but no one responded. I bought the cookies from the only pastry shop in town and returned. Natasha looked excited when she saw me. As I placed the box on the table, she immediately reached for it.

“Are you heading out?” “No? I came looking for you.” “I need to do another tray of these cookies,” she says. “I’m almost out up front, and they’re a popular seller.” “Cookies,” I say, pinning her with a look. “Cookies,” she replies. “Cranberry macadamia nut with white chocolate. You can try one when they come out of the oven if you want.” Autumn makes a show of evenly spacing each scoop of cookie dough, giving it all her focus like it’s the most important thing she’s ever done. She’s obviously trying to pretend everything is fine, acting cheerful and light, but she still won’t look at me.

I paid quickly, murmuring my thanks, and stepped back out into the crisp afternoon air. Today was our third wedding anniversary, and I’d decided to surprise him with a box of his favorite dark chocolate cookies from the little bakery on Maple Street, plus the name Midnight Lover sounded ridiculously romantic and I was feeling bold for once. Though the smell of the cookies was making me feel surprisingly queasy. The rich, dark-chocolate aroma that usually made my mouth water was turning my stomach in tight, unwelcome knots. I paused on the front steps, the paper bag warm in my hands, and took a slow breath through my mouth instead of my nose.

When he glanced over and caught me staring, I darted my attention back to the stove and I finished the no-bakes. Everyone gathered around and collected a handful, where we returned to the living room. Darcy carried the rum bottle with her, and though she didn’t let anyone else drink anymore, she kept pouring herself glass after glass. “God,” Wick groaned as he plopped down onto the couch. “It feels good to just sit after such a long day.” Then he took a bite of his cookie and moaned again. “Holy shit.” His gaze shot to me. “These are amazing. You’ve been holding out on me, woman.”