The cool thing about acknowledgments is no one gets to change up a single word. So—<cue maniacal laughter>—bwahahahaha! Seriously, if you guys embarrass easily … better stop reading.
To my fabulous editor, Greg Ferguson: I got to admit that when I first read that cover letter and all your edit notes, I was seized with this overwhelming urge to lie down and maybe drink heavily. Or maybe that was the other way around. Really, I was in the slough of despond. Later, after I woke up, I realized the care that went into each and every question. You made this a much better, more focused and tighter book, and I can not thank you enough for your enthusiasm, perseverance, and patience. Hold on to that fine-toothed flea comb; we got more nits to pick, fella. (Oh, and those packs? God, you are so brilliant.)
More thanks to my eagle-eyed, wizard of a copy editor, Ryan Sullivan, who both forced me to be clearer and knew, exactly, which words deserved a quick and merciless death.
To Katie Halata: thank you for answering every question and keeping my life in order. To Elizabeth Law, who came through with a single word when I most needed it: bless you. A big-shout to the rest of the good folks at Egmont USA: please know that I am so grateful for all your hard work. Go, team!
Many thanks again to my splendid agent, Jennifer Laughran, who never hesitates to give a reality slap whenever appropriate: Whoa, thanks; I needed that. Babe, I’ll keep you in rock salt and snow shovels forever.
To Dean Wesley Smith, once more, for his knowledge, friendship, and ever-available shoulder: I am so fortunate to know you.
To Erin Coppersmith and all the other ladies at our little library that time forgot and the decades cannot improve: thank you for locating each and every bizarre book I need, needed, or ever will need. Seriously, I could not do this without you guys.
To my daughters, Carolyn and Sarah: yes, it’s safe to come into the study now.
Finally, to David: you are a saint, my advocate, my sweetheart. Every woman should be so lucky. Really.