My husband and three girls, of course, deserve credit for their patience and encouragement, for sharing me with my computer and bearing with me when I can’t seem to stop talking about the nineteenth century and all its delectable charms and fascinating horrors; for my middle daughter running inside and shouting, “Mom, come see this sunset! I bet you could write it into your book!” and for my husband, who simply grins when people ask if he’s read the “love scenes.”
I must thank my publisher, Michelle Halket, for her ideas and suggestions, which have made Soul of a Crow into the book it is today. I enjoy her company tremendously, and cannot wait to see where this road we’re on will take us—but then, the unexpected is half the fun of any journey. (The journey is the thing, of course).
And finally to my readers—thank you for letting me know how much you’ve loved reading about Lorie and her menfolk—most especially my dear friend/reader Shannon Daniels, who loves Malcolm as much as I do. And thanks to all the readers who have found Lorie courageous and inspiring, how you’ve taken it upon yourself to learn more about the realities of prostitution in the nineteenth century. I believe there is a story in every soul on this earth—around every curve in the road and in every stalk of grass growing over the ancient tracks of wagon wheels long since worn away, in the hues of each sunset and every word ever spoken that remains hovering in the air about us—if we only know how to hear them. It is my privilege to tell even a few of those stories–I’ve compared it to a kind of haunting, but one that I welcome, wholeheartedly. And so thank you for reading; I promise to keep writing.
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