To Lauren Smulski, my cherished Ketchup. I’m grateful to have you as an editor, and honored to call you a friend. You make my words better. You make me better. You also protect me from violent pool floaties. Full-service, indeed.
Brent Taylor and Uwe Stender, my dynamic duo! Thank you for all you do, and the support you give. You’re truly the greatest agents in all the land, and I’m lucky to have the opportunity to work with you both. Our symbiotic Ride or Die relationship is one for the ages, and may Odin save anyone who forgets it.
Dana Kaye, publicist extraordinaire. You’re glorious and magical, and it’s been an honor to work with you and the entire Kaye Publicity team!
Sarah Hollowell, you’re wonderful and magnificent and the most supportive and loyal friend a gal could ever dream of having. The world is a better place because you’re in it. You are eternally loved.
So, so many thanks to Abby Jimenez, an amazing author, incredible friend, and baker extraordinaire! You never let me wallow in self-doubt over this book, which was a frequent struggle for me, and you made me believe that maybe I don’t completely suck after all. I don’t deserve you, lady.
Liz Lincoln, who graciously spent an afternoon brainstorming Caspian’s last name after I was stuck banging my head on the wall.
Angela Durall, sister-in-law of champions, for always being in my corner, for taking such great care of my family in my absence, and for reminding me in a moment of panic that Mr. Darcy exists and never gets old.
To Mom: thank you for always waving the best pom-poms in my direction. I did promise the second book I published would be either puppies or prostitutes, and I’m nothing if not a woman of my word. Flipping a coin to determine if the next one will be kitties or cults. At least we’re edging closer to where you can tell your friends what my books are about! Love you, lady.
Lola and Miles, my darlings, my babies, my whole heart. Lola: the Rory to my Lorelai. Miles: the Loki to my Frigga. I am proud to be your Mama Bun.
To my dearest Drew, we survived a lot over the course of my writing this book. We all lived, even though it seemed certain at times that we couldn’t possibly. Thank you for soldiering on, for keeping the kiddos breathing and fed while I worked, and for never judging me when I inexplicably had Fantastic Beasts on a loop for five straight days while I binge-wrote the first draft of this book. (We got out of there, baby!)
And finally, to a very specific British actor, the star of my post–heart attack, heavily medicated fever dream that inspired this novel—thanks for the unintentional plot bunny, and for not suing me should you ever discover the existence of this book. Please. Thanks. Cheers.