I will forever be indebted to Kristyn Keene, my very first and very best agent. I am so grateful for your persistence, patience, insight, and laugh-out-loud sense of humor. I know who you are, and you are SO the answer.
Every first-time author should be lucky enough to wind up with an editor, publisher, and all-around great guy like Mauro DiPreta. If you need any proof of my respect and adoration, know that you are the first person ever to say “I kinda hate it” about something I’ve written and live to tell the tale. (Also, you were right.) Thank you for all you did to make this book infinitely better.
Many thanks as well to the entire team at Hachette: Michelle Aielli and Betsy Hulsebosch for putting this book in front of as many eyeballs as possible, and the unfaltering Ashley Yancey for keeping track of countless moving parts.
The writers, editors, reporters, and artists whom I’ve worked with far outshine any celebrity I’ve ever encountered. Thank you to Peter Castro for supporting me early and often, and many thanks to the incredible People staff I’m still so lucky to work with each day: Lizz Leonard, Mary Green, Samantha Miller, Charlotte Triggs, Kim Hubbard, Andrea Dunham, Cindy Sanz, Liz Sporkin, Dan Wakeford, Henry Goldblatt, and the countless other creative spirits who make me so proud to be a part of what you do.
First bosses don’t get any better than Richard Johnson, and first jobs don’t get much finer than working next to Jeane MacIntosh at Page Six.
I could easily fill another book with my admiration for Ellen Levine, but suffice it to say that you have been my greatest mentor, stand-in mother, and editor extraordinaire. I cannot imagine my life trajectory had you not been in it. Actually, I can, and it doesn’t lead anywhere good. You also let me learn from the lovely, inimitable Evelyn Renold, for which I am eternally grateful.
Larry Hackett: You still sort of terrify me. But I suspect that will never change and is also part of why working for you was so thrilling. Thank you for giving me opportunities I hadn’t even dared to dream about before I met you, and thank you for believing I was capable of rising to the occasion.
JD Heyman, your wit, wiliness, and wisdom both infuriate and inspire me, with the latter almost always winning out. I am reassured and relieved to know I can always count on you as a kindred spirit who will listen to me vent, tell me what to do (at length) and back me up when I need it most.
I refer to Jess Cagle in this book as the Greatest Kindest Man Alive, and that is in no way an exaggeration. I can honestly say I spent most of my career desperately trying to work for you, and the moment it finally happened was without a doubt one of the greatest in my professional life. Thank you so much for being an ardent supporter, thoughtful critic, and constant voice of reason.
To the professional angels who worked miracles for me in ways I could never repay—Cindi Berger, Marcy Engelman, Liz Smith, Leslie Sloane—thank you for everything, and for being all-around amazing women I will forever admire.
I moved to the suburbs hoping for a bigger closet and more storage. I never expected to also find a group of female friends that would make up for all my loner years in high school. To the Knuckleheads of Pelham: You are hands-down the best part of not only my commute but also my life as a working mom. You keep me sane, keep me laughing, and keep me from ever feeling that I am alone. A special shout-out to Heather Bushong for being the very first fan of I’m Your Biggest Fan and convincing me to do something about it. (Montana is next, I promise.) And thank you to Alexandra Russello for listening to my lengthy chutes-and-ladders monologues about this book, along with so much else, as we logged mile after mile.
To age-old friends Catherine Mouttet, Brooke Gomez, Stacia Libby, April Taylor-Stackle, Carolyn Hinsey, Stephanie Sloane, Scott Anderson, Will Treves, and Virginia Eyre: Thank you for knowing me then, and still choosing to know me now. And to Jena Starkes: Thank you for always being up for an adventure, especially ones involving pigs in tiaras.
My best friend, Stephanie Eiseman, has a huge heart and encouraging spirit that makes me believe I can do anything—including move heavy pieces of furniture and eat Entenmann’s without gaining weight. You are my very best partner in crime, and I look forward to riding the bus to Atlantic City together in our eighties.
One of the best parts of marrying my husband was the family that came along with the deal. Ron and Joann, thank you for being the joyous together. Dave and Meghan, thank you for your support and the gorgeous children my guys are lucky enough to call cousins.
It is impossible to think of my father without thinking of countless multi-syllabic words to describe him. Dad, you are the most intellectual, indefatigable, beguiling, bewildering, self-deprecating, self-possessed man I know, and I love you, so shut up so thar. Frances Coyne: You put up with all that, so in addition to wanting to grant you a medal, let me also extend endless gratitude.
I know many women who fear becoming their mother, but I would quite happily turn out like mine. Nancy Coyne, you are more than I could ever adequately express here, but know that you are my absolute role model, my closest confidante, my truest and greatest friend, and, of course, my own nice mommy. I love you—now and forever.
And finally, to the greatest loves of my life (no, not my iPhone): my husband and my children. This book was a lifelong goal, but it is irrelevant compared with the two best things I have ever done or will ever do: being smart enough to marry you, Dear Husband, and being lucky enough to become your mom, Perfect Boys. My love for you is limitless and eternal. Now please turn down the TV and turn up the heat.