For my Ian, who handles having a mom who asks strange questions by providing brilliant answers so she can finish the damn story.

For my Brendan and his endless patience in advising his mom on the best weapons for any given task and his willingness to block out fight scenes with the same weird mom, despite our height differences.

For my Ben, who manages to keep the other two males in our household, plus the Fur Minxes, the actual house, and life in general, stable so I can disappear into my imaginary worlds without guilt.

Without you three—this and every other book I write, wouldn’t happen.