To my faithful readers, because a book is like a pie—the only thing more satisfying than cooking up the story is knowing that somebody might be out there eating it up with a spoon.

Polly had a gift for baking pies, and she poured her heart and soul into every one she made.

Being a humble person, she gave her pie shop a humble name—PIE.

Alice wondered if her mother was aware that she wasn’t the only one in town who’d come down with a bad case of Blueberry Fever.