Thank You!


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I wanted to take the time tonight before I become too giddy,
too inebriated, or too swamped with promotions tomorrow and forget to thank all
the people who’ve helped me out along the way, with my writing and just in
life.  I’m starting with posting
the dedication.  Ebooks tend to
start right on page one, and I’m not sure many people ever read the dedication
once the book is done.  So I’m
putting it here for the world to see:

            To
all the ladies in my life whose feedback, advice, and support kept me writing,
especially my first readers: Christine, Lindsey, and Heather who plodded
through those early drafts with keen eyes and kindly worded criticisms. 

            And
most especially to my first ever reader, editor, and fan: my mom.  Thank you for believing in me always
and for giving me the guts to believe in myself.

I can’t say more about my friends or my mother, because I could
never say enough–at least not without tearing up and/or sounding incredibly
corny.  I’ll stick with a sincere
thanks.

 Of course, leaving it there would be forgetting all the
other friends, family, coworkers, and, of course, teachers, who have helped
me.  Though I truly thank all of
you and every little thing you have done, one person in this category needs
some special recognition: my dad. 

Dad’s never been a big fiction reader, and I doubt he’s ever
even handled a book with a paranormal romance subplot, forget having read
one.  This likely won’t change come
tomorrow, but that’s okay by me. 
Dad shows his support in other ways.  In recent years he has accompanied me to numerous Staples up
and down the eastern seaboard in search of the exact right pens (gel pens,
green) and notebooks (spiral-bound, with a hard cover, so I can write on my lap
in bed or on the beach), frequently replenished the ink in the printer at the
Cape house, and even folded my laundry while I was too engrossed in editing on
his deck to care that I had clean underwear, never mind that it was folded.  The epitome of supporting my writing,
however, probably came in college when I dragged him to a “literary
event” which was a requirement of my creative writing class.  I was commuting to Boston at the time,
so we tried to find one closer to home. 
Finding a cultural experience like this in Grafton was about as easy as
finding someone in Boston who knew where Grafton was.  So when we read that a Worcester bookstore was having a NOW
poetry reading, we figured what the hell, how bad could some contemporary
poetry be?  Only NOW wasn’t
referring to the timeliness of the poetry, but rather to the ultra-feminist
views of the poets.  I had
unknowingly dragged my poor father to a National Organization of Women’s
writing group.  Granted he didn’t
stay in his seat long after figuring this out, but he didn’t toss me the keys
and call a cab either.  At the end
of an hour of roaming the more man-friendly parts of the store, he met me at
the door wearing almost as big a grin as I was, though I do recall him telling
me, “You owe me.”

 I owe all of you in some way or another, and I hope I have
the chance to repay the many favors you’ve done and will likely continue to do
for me.  Whether you need a
cheerleader, critic, chauffer, or perhaps a sucker to attend some crazy
conference, I’m you’re girl! 

                                                                        Many
thanks and much appreciation,

                                                                                    Lau

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