Once more, I come to one of my favorite parts of writing a book. This is where I get to acknowledge the people who have supported, inspired, championed, been there for (or politely avoided) me while I write. I’ve said this before, and I will say it again: while there is usually one author, a book is a collaboration in so many unforeseen ways, and now I get to thank each and every one of those who either wittingly or unwittingly helped me while I wrote this one.
First and foremost, I have to thank my dazzling, funny, stylish, kind and oh-so-insightful agent and beloved friend, Selwa Anthony. An advocate of this book from the moment I explained my idea, she not only vanquished my crippling doubts as I wrote (and wrote, deleted, wrote and deleted), but when it was complete and she read it, advised me on where it might be tweaked/altered and thus strengthened. Bolstering me with calls through long, lonely stretches of writing, giving me confidence and inspiration, she was a complete marvel, over and beyond any call of duty. I owe her such a debt of gratitude and love, moreso because she also did this during what’s been an intense and seriously unpleasant time for her. One of my writer friends described Selwa as a fairy godmother. That’s so apt. I don’t know what I did to deserve you in my life, Selwa—and Linda, Brian and the sweet furbies—but you are there spreading your love and fairy dust, and I (and many others) am so thankful.
I also want to take this opportunity to thank the entire team at MIRA/Harlequin/HarperCollins. Not only did I luck out with my agent, but with my publisher as well—what fantastic people and such a pleasure to work with. From the lovely Michelle LaForest, who, from the moment I told her the title of my book, expressed such enthusiasm and positivity for the project, to the beautiful Sue Brockhoff, who has always been such a rock and support, as well as one of the hardest-working and kindest people I know, and whom I’m proud to call friend. Then there’s Jo Mackay, another fabulous support and literary advocate; James Kellow; Adam van Rooijen; and Annabel Blay, who is as clever and creative as she is kind and understanding. I also want to thank Natika Palka, campaign manager at Harlequin.
To my U.S. agent, Jim Frenkel, thank you—for your wonderful, chatty emails, your enthusiasm for my work and your unstinting consideration. Thanks as well to the terrific Catherine Pfeifer. The superb team at William Morrow in the US, from my editor Rachel Kahan, another great champion of my work, to Rachel’s assistant, Alivia Lopez; Julia Meltzer, the production editor; publicist Libby Collins; Alicia Tatone and Mumtaz Mustafa, the art directors who created the beautiful package in which this story comes; Amelia Wood for marketing; and Jennifer Hart, the paperback publisher, who was responsible for so much, as well all deserve a huge thanks for their encouragement and support.
My Australian editor, Linda Funnell, is a gift that keeps on giving and I’m blessed she’s been given to me. She understands how to make a story stronger, tighter and so much better, and, having worked with me on my last three novels, she understands what I’m trying to accomplish. I thank her for all the effort she’s put into this book.
I also want to wholeheartedly thank my proofreader, Sarah J. H. Fletcher. Having had the great pleasure and fortune to work with Sarah before (on my the Curse of the Bond Rider series), I know what a sharp eye and keen sense of story she has and was so damn lucky to have her work on this book. I hope I get to work with you again, Sarah. It’s been an utter joy.
I also want to thank my beloved and dearest friend, Kerry Doyle. Kerry is one of the few “test” readers to whom I pass an early complete draft of my novels and who feeds back to me, honestly, what she thinks. This is a terrible burden to place upon a friend, who must put aside fears of bruising an ego and undertake the task at hand. Kerry always does it with such grace, thoughtfulness and veracity. Her acumen and suggestions are always insightful.
Furthermore, Kerry and her gorgeous husband (and my darling friend as well), Peter Goddard, traveled with me and Stephen around the U.K. and Europe in the second half of 2017 for almost six weeks where, if we weren’t dragging them to breweries and distilleries (for my husband Stephen’s work-related stuff), they were being pulled into an endless stream of museums, churches, ruins, bookshops and strange byways for my research. They stood by while I sometimes asked embarrassing (endless) questions or threw in their own and made the most stupendous recommendations about places I might want to go and things we might want to see as I fact-checked and story hunted. Over many, many kilometers, through all kinds of weather, drinks, food, and in and out of more bars than I care to (or can) remember and interactions with incredibly knowledgeable and generous people, we had the best of times. Their goodwill, humor and friendship mean the world to me. A person cannot ask for better or more loving friends—they’re incomparable, as is the love I bear them both. Thank you, my lovelies. Thank you.
While I am over the other side of the world, I want to again thank David Gottlier from Bowler and Hatte, my intrepid and fabulous guide who wandered all over Restoration London with me and patiently answered my questions and added his own erudite observations.
I want to say another thank you to Dr. Peter Jones, a Tasmanian scholar whose work, guidance and conversations were invaluable.
And thanks to Drew Keys for reading the manuscript and for his kindness, support when I was down and consistent belief.
To Mark Nicholson (Mr. Nick) and Robin—you are such treasures—thank you both so very much. I outline in the Author’s Note just what a boon you both were. And Mr. Nick, a quiet little shout-out to you for planting the seed (or should that be preparing the bait?) for my next novel . . .
Gav Jaeger and Jason Greatbatch, two dear friends, thank you for your support, and Gav (who was a paramedic for many years) for sharing your vast medical knowledge with me, particularly about strokes and heart attacks—something about which I wish you personally knew less.
I also must thank Dr. Elizabeth Griffin for giving me the idea and information around Sir Everard’s ailment.
I also want to thank some more friends who weren’t always aware how much their earnest and enthusiastic inquiries about how my writing was going and invitations to coffee, drinks, dinners and getaways (accepted and refused) were so very much appreciated, who showed nothing but compassion and/or understanding when I declined or was withdrawn or depressed about my writing prowess. You are all the very best of people and I love you dearly. Thank you, my beautiful neighbors, friends and all-around magical people, Bill, Lyn, David and Jack Lark, who have supported me and all my books from the get-go; so blessed to have you in my life. My gorgeous friends, Christina Schultness, Mike Crew, Clinton and Rosie Steele, Simon Thomson and Lucinda Wilkins (Lucy), the lovely Emma, Robbie and Harvey Gilligan, Dr. Kiarna, Chris, Jake and Samuel Brown, Dr. Frances Thiele, Dr. Lisa Hill, Professor Jim McKay, Dr. Helen Johnson, Dr. Liz Ferrier, Professor David Rowe, Dr. Janine Mikosa, Bentley Deegan, Tim and Jess Byrne, Mimi McIntyre and Hamish, Mark Woodland, the friends of Captain Bligh’s (our) Brewery—so many of whom, when I’m pouring them drinks at our monthly bar, astonish me by leaning over and whispering, “How’s the book coming along?” much to my delight and chagrin. I also have to thank Jenny Farrell for being the best sister ever, my stepmother, Moira Adams, and my former editor at the newspaper where I’m a weekly columnist, Margaret Wenham.
Sheryl Gwyther; Dannielle Miller; Dr. Kim Wilkins; Terry and Rebecca Moles; Wendy Moles; Mick and Katri Dubois; Fiona Inch; the staff at the IASH at the University of Queensland, where I am an Honorary Senior Research Fellow; Karalynne Redknapp; my loyal, smart and encouraging Facebook friends on my author page—thank you. To those whom I’m terrified I’m inadvertently excluding—but only from these pages, not from my heart—forgive me. I do thank you as well.
I also want to thank my still very much missed soul sister and inspiration, Sara Douglass.
And thank you too, my big-hearted, patient readers. Without you, there’d be no purpose to what I do. And thank you to the bookshops and libraries, bloggers and book clubs, who foster writers, books and lovers of reading. You are the gatekeepers of stories and culture, and I’m so grateful. Where would any of us be without you?
As crazy as it sounds, I also want to give a shout-out to my four-legged companions. Day after day, my beautiful, loving and beloved dogs sit with me as I write—thank you, Dante, Tallow and Bounty. My furry muses.
Which leads me to the last thank-yous. First, I want to thank the man to whom this book is dedicated, Stephen Bender. You may note he is a character in the book. I hope Stephen understands this is my way of paying tribute to him and what he means to our family. Stephen first wandered into our brewery looking for something to do in retirement a few years ago, and basically he never left—and thank goodness for that. A former career Army officer and then a criminal prosecutor for many years, Stephen has always fought the good fight. He brought not only love and friendship into our lives, but many great conversations, unwavering support, loyalty and an acumen borne of years of incredible experiences. While some of these would have broken many a person, they’ve simply made this man not only stronger, but kinder, more compassionate, less tolerant of fools and just an all-around beaut bloke whose integrity shines in everything he does. We often butt political heads, have the most frank and meandering conversations about anything and everything, grump to each other, tease, but most of all, laugh. I love this man like a big brother. Dedicating this book to him is a very small token of the deep affection I bear for him and a public acknowledgment of the important part he plays in mine and my Stephen’s lives.
Thank you, Lieutenant-Colonel Bender—love you dearly, sir.
If it wasn’t for the unwavering faith, humor, intelligence and challenges posed—and often—by my fantastic adult children, Adam and Caragh, none of my novels would ever see the light of day. They keep me grounded, elevated, frustrated, anxious and proud in equal measure, and I adore them. It’s hard to have a writer as a parent because in many ways, they’ve not always there, but divided between their lexical children, the inventions of their mind, and their real flesh-and-blood ones, who aren’t anywhere near so demanding. Thank you, my best creations—for supporting this exasperating and yet wonderfully fulfilling thing I cannot help but do.
Which leads me to the other person without whom, not only would I not be able to write a word, but my life would be utterly incomplete. Stephen Brooks, my love, my heart, my life. The man who knows me better sometimes than I know myself and who is there for all the triumphs and disappointments. Who picks me up when self-doubt paralyzes me, brushes me off, dries my eyes, gives me pep and other kinds of important talks, makes cups of coffee and hot chocolate, pours glasses of wine or whisky and pushes me back toward my desk. Together, we laugh, cry, despair, celebrate, make and pour beers and other beverages and dream. Always there, he also understands why I sometimes don’t hear him, wander away to my computer midsentence, stay awake into the wee hours writing, reading or thinking, gaze dreamily out the window or toward the sky, look at him without seeing him. He’s never jealous of the Matthews, Leanders, Nathaniels and other men and beautiful women who take me away from him but embraces them and the myriad other children of my imagination who share our crazy, loving and fantastic world.
I love you, Stephen Brooks—thank you from the bottom of my very full heart. Like all my books, my so-very-sweet man, The Chocolate Maker’s Wife is for you.