I adored this book; There’s Pumpkin About You by Athena Carstairs. It’s warm, funny, emotionally intelligent, and genuinely respectful about neurodiversity. The banter crackles, the farm setting feels lived in, and the friend group made me want to RSVP “yes” to every barn event in a 50-mile radius. Five out of five pumpkins, easily.
The lines that hooked me
Much of the book lives in dialogue, and some lines just parked in my chest. I kept highlighting:
“Oh, really? Tell me one thing so far that has worked in your favor. You’re still behind on the harvest and the paperwork and you have an incomplete barn. What the hell could you have gained?” “I gained you, idiot.”
And this, which nails the book’s emotional vocabulary:
“Hopeless. That’s the word I’d use. The feeling of being so overwhelmed that your brain cannot even begin to comprehend half of the things your senses are experiencing in that moment.”
Plus a moment of hard-won self-truth:
“I used to be so ashamed of anything that showed me to be soft, more than what I appear… If anyone saw that I have a weakness other than my Autism, I assumed it would be used as further reason for me to be considered useless, pathetic.”
Those lines are why I read romance: tenderness with teeth.
Who we’re following
- August Finch is the town’s thorn and its quiet backbone. He is autistic and, because his autism is invisible to many, people misread him as rude or lazy. He’s literal, struggles with social cues, and can be abrasive when overwhelmed. He’s also deeply kind, rescues animals, and once broke his arm saving a puppy from a cliff. He reads Wren better than anyone, which matters.
- Wren Southwick is an event planner with vision. She wants to build her name in a small town that still checks family trees before it checks résumés. She’s competent, guarded, and the exact level of stubborn that August needs.
- The Finches and friends: August’s brothers, Sam and Sebastion, the chaotic good energy you want in a family; Finn, Wren’s brother and fixer; James, the barista with excellent instincts who sparks with Sam; Oakleigh, Wren’s best friend who turns 30 and needa a big party, Emilio, a goat with bite and timing; plus a hardworking horse hauling pumpkins like a champ. The ensemble is bustling yet cohesive.
Plot vibes without spoilers
Wren wanders into the Finch family barn, gets nibbled by Emilio, and crashes headlong into August. Sparks, static, and mutual confusion ensue. They bicker, they misread, they circle back. Wren and Finn help rebuild the barn so she can host a birthday for her best friend Oakleigh. The renovation grounds the romance in tangible progress, and watching Wren’s event-planning brain sync with the farm’s seasonal chaos is a joy. The love-hate rhythm shifts to love-and-learning, and the tension is, you know what, downright palpable.
A romance that respects neurodiversity
Carstairs writes August with clarity and respect. He has routines, preferences, and communication patterns that the narrative honors rather than “fixes.” When he gets literal or overwhelmed, it isn’t a punchline. Wren doesn’t demand he change who he is; she helps create conditions where communication can be clear and kind. He pauses. She listens. They recalibrate. Do they mess up and stop talking sometimes? Yes, and those chapters hurt in the best way because you’re rooting for them to try again.
Community, chosen and otherwise
The farm’s financial strain and August’s fraught relationship with his dad sit in the background like a storm cloud. It matters to why the farm is struggling, yet very few people know the truth. We do, as readers, and that inside knowledge deepens the stakes. On the flip side, the town shows its best self when everyone rolls up to help, especially around the barn redo and Wren’s events. It’s the kind of neighborly choreography that makes small-town romances sing.
One scene that missed for me
There’s a cougar sequence that felt out of tune with the rest of the book. I get the intention: show August planning meticulously and then coping when reality swerves. But there are already other moments that accomplish this. The cougar beat lands more strange than illuminating.
Villains, big and small
Every small town needs a pot-stirrer. Here it’s Sandra, who’s cruel to both Wren and August. I wanted to flick her right off the page every time she appeared. She is useful narratively, but wow, she is wicked.
Heat check
You know I don’t love sex scenes, and there are a few here. The good news: they’re handled with care, never gratuitous, and didn’t make me cringe. They serve character growth more than spectacle, which I appreciate.
About the author
Athena Carstairs brings a thoughtful, character-first lens to contemporary romance. On the page, she trusts dialogue to carry weight, lets sensory overload read like weather rather than melodrama, and writes intimacy as a conversation. The result is a story that centers compassion, boundaries, and repair. You can feel the research and the empathy in how she frames August’s interiority and the community around him.
Why it worked for me
- Dialogue that snaps and soothes
- A romance that models repair, not perfection
- Found-family energy in every corner of Goldleaf Pumpkin Farm
- A heroine building a career without losing her softness
- An autistic hero portrayed with dignity, specificity, and heart
Final score
All told, I’d absolutely visit the Finch family’s Goldleaf Pumpkin Farm if it were real. It sounds beautiful, pumpkin-pulling horse and all. This one’s a 5 out of 5 from me.
Song pairing
“august” by Taylor Swift. The name match is cheeky, sure, but the song’s ache, seasonal imagery, and quiet hope fit Wren and August’s push-and-pull and the harvest-time mood. Play it while you picture string lights in the rebuilt barn and the horse cart creaking through rows of fat orange pumpkins.
