Sam let out a breath, wisps of blond bangs flying upwards.
“I burned them again,” she informed the petite woman standing beside her, oven mitts on both hands.
“Make another batch, then,” came her reply as a tray of smoking lumps was dumped into a water-filled bucket.
“Sugar doesn’t grow on trees, Janet.”
“You’re going to learn how to make
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Who's "Peter Davis"? (It's Paul, not Peter. ;)
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You know, I knew I was forgetting something... :P
Thanks for reading!
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Thanks!
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