When I was a junior in college, I dropped out of a strict pre-med program and started painting houses for a living, writing whenever I had free time. My decision grieved my mother; she had lost her “son the doctor.” But she kept her disappointment to herself and supported my choice without complaint. The passing years and my growing collection of rejection slips did not discourage her. Her faith in me was absolute. It was stronger than my faith in myself. She knew I would succeed as a novelist, it was just a matter of time.

For that reason, and a million others, I would like to dedicate this book to my mother.