Doc agreed. Her mind became an open book, and Magenta ran fingers down every page and played at each pointed corner. An orchard flourished inside, where roots of emotion intermingled. Memories floated in spores, but they were uncontainable things, whereas sensation lived bright and alive.

Things Doc could touch and feel and know. Beloved lightning lit her skin, her nerves aglow with Magenta’s tenderness. There was no past here, and no future.

The present was hardly an idea, clear and undeniable in its shape, and yet Doc couldn’t define it without the ahead and behind. She knew only now, right now, as a miasma of endless feeling and unstoppable bliss. Clouds swallowed her, but there was no poison here, only love in thunder and lightning.

A magenta storm without end.

Acknowledgments

This book began as it ended, slimy and wriggling, something I struggled to grasp as I had to tear it apart and remake it many times, a Frankenstein’s monster in its own way. Thankfully, I didn’t have to play mad scientist alone. The horror community overflows with wonderful people, and I can’t name them all here, but what an experience we can be together. There are a few who need a shout or scream of recognition in particular.

Thank you to Nicholas Day for everything in this strangest of houses, in particular his insightful editing, every bit helpful in sharpening this novel’s teeth.

To my dear friend Claire Holland and her co-host Blythe of the Sexy Books Podcast, thank you for countless deep observations on the romance genre and for assuring me that yes, everything is fine, go ahead and write this weird love story. In the same listening realm, thank you to Mary Kay McBrayer and her co-hosts Mary and Rachel on the Everything Trying to Kill You podcast for helping keep my brain situated right while writing in a year like no other.

A shout-out to the Sci-Fi & Scary team for all the fun over tentacles and vagina dentata while I started to draft this book. I took the excitement as a good omen. Thanks in that vein also go to the brilliant Laurel Hightower, the horror community’s Vagina Monster Connoisseur, for giving me the kick of confidence I needed to push ahead.

Thank you to the unparalleled Sara Tantlinger, whose love for slaughter and passion for horromance coats my bones. Lisa Quigley, thank you for a summer of magic while the re-drafting process nearly destroyed me. Also thank you to Samantha Kolesnik for the long talks and many injections of confidence throughout the tough-as-hell time during which I cobbled this book from tentacles and nonsense.

I could never have reached this point without my family’s encouragement through the years. There aren’t enough words.

And to my wife J, I would eat a city for you. Maybe two.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR