October…
“Hey, Amber?” my assistant Liz’s voice rises an octave from the door frame of my office, and I know I’m in trouble.
“Yeah?” I call around a mouthful of carrot sticks, wishing they were a stack of pancakes right now.
It’s mid-afternoon, I haven’t eaten all day, and I packed myself rabbit food this morning, trying to pre-emptively curtail how many calories I’m going to be ingesting for the upcoming holiday season from now.
I’m preparing so I can be ready for my aunt’s world-famous (not really the world, but definitely my world) pumpkin pie with vanilla whipped cream, and a sprinkling of cinnamon on top that already has me drooling just at the mere thought of it.
God, I would commit a crime for a slice of that pie—if I had the whole thing to myself and didn’t have to fight to
