My grandfather, for making writing seem a natural occupation.
Mom and Dad, for telling me I could do anything.
Ted, for looking out the window in the first place.
Trip, for illuminating the world-structure error in the early drafts of Urban Shaman.
Trent, for being the first reader for every. single. manuscript.
Bev and Gary, for being forgiving when I wrote during family vacations.
The War Room en masse and Laura Anne, Mikaela, Michelle and Chrysoula in particular, for being there at all sorts of stupid hours when I needed a kick in the pants.
Jennifer, for ten great years.
Matrice, for taking a chance.
My readers, for carrying this story through all the way to the end.
Thank you all so, so much.