To my parents, Jim and Lisa. Dad, whose sheer adoration instilled in me the kind of confidence usually found in serial killers, which manifested in me the audacity to think I could write something. Mumsie, you raised me with a love for the written word that has been responsible for some of my favorite things in life. You are my first and most steadfast cheerleader on this writing journey. Thank you.

To my mother-in-law, Cheryl, the best human I know, whose 2010 Christmas gift, a Gotham Writers Workshop Intro to Novel Writing course, literally changed my life. Thank you.

Thank you to World Famous *BOB*, whose confidence class was the first step in my discovering this sexy, sequined world, and Jo Weldon, headmistress of the New York School of Burlesque, who recommended I drop into Duane Park and ask about kittening. Amber Ray, Gal Friday, Peekaboo Pointe, and Medianoche: you may have zero memory of Toodles, but I’ll never forget you. And a tip of the hat to Murray Hill—I think my dad still has a shirt with your face on it.

To the Second Drafters: thank you for nudging me along those first few years with kind words for my dialogue and stubborn demands for “plot.” A special nod to Bill, my New York dad, who, in his own words, is “probably the person furthest from this book’s intended demographic” but did enjoy it. And the Seattle revision crew, which never did get a proper name. Thanks for the feedback and the hangouts. My Popstar ticket stub is on my desk.

Erin, you beautiful tropical fish, who, as I gripe-messaged about not knowing what to work on, casually mentioned you were modernizing an older story and took zero offense when I text-screamed, “I HAVE TO GO I’VE HAD AN INSPIRATION,” and departed our chat to start outlining this novel. Thank you for taking a seat next to me at SCBWI—even if my hair had you thinking I was someone way cooler.

This book would not have happened without my fabulous critters at Critique Circle. Thank you for picking at my repeated words and letting me know when I’d written something entertaining but clearly for myself, and for telling me that if I did, in fact, plan to have an audience at some point, I should maybe drop the whole scene if I’d like to keep their attention. Harsh, but valid. So, D. K. Deters, Jason Caldwell, Jill Storm, Lydia Eato Harris, Sania Plum, and Stacie H: thank you, thank you, thank you.

Lots of love and appreciation to the friends who have been subjected to countless drafts, random chapters, and abandoned stories for . . . ever? J Dawg, Megan, and Athia (my Phoenix mom), thank you. And, Polly, ohmigoodness. You’re simply the best. Thank you for being part of our chosen family.