Sweet Dreams

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To my mom and dad, who are still trying to figure out what happened to, “I want to be Isaac Asimov when I grow up.”

To Memom, who’s willing to discuss ménage a trois stories with her granddaughter with surprising enthusiasm. Yet another thing that has Mom shaking her head in wonder.

To my beta readers, Beth, Stephanie, RC and Alice: you guys rock! I love getting stuff back from you.

(“Wait. I really wrote that? Are you sure? Because I don’t think eggplants go there.”) To my editor, Angie, who takes the rough diamonds I dig up and send to her and polishes them until they gleam.

And to Dusty, who mutters about maniac, knife-wielding car-jackers/killers every time I mention buying a convertible, or how cute I’d look in one. I love you too, sweetheart. Even if you won’t let me get that sweet cherry red one I’ve always wanted.

Oh, yeah. Come to the masquerade party, she says. Simon will be there and he wants you, she says. You’ll have a blast, she says.

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