The Prince(149)

By: Tiffany Reisz

“I don’t know. Someone has her.”

“What do you mean, someone has Eleanor?”

As a small child Wesley had heard the phrase “the wrath of God” in church, and sat and wondered what that meant, what that sounded like.

Now he knew.

“Søren…she’s gone.”

* * * * *


I keep forgetting that I’m allowed to put acknowledgments in my books. It’s only after I send off the final that I remember, “Oh, shit, I forgot to thank all those people who helped me.” So forgive me for putting three books’ worth of acknowledgments into one short page. My brain is so often lost in my fictional world I forget the real world is full of people even more wonderful.

First, thank you to my parents for being so surprisingly supportive of your unrepentant smut-peddler of a daughter. Thank you to my sister Alisha for being my biggest cheerleader.

Thank you to Patricia Correll, Robin Brecht and Jeff Hoagland for being my first ever beta readers and whipping, nay flogging, The Siren into shape.

Thank you to Karen Stivali for being the most eagle-eyed of all my beta readers.

Thank you to Team Awesome and my fearless editorial assistant Alli Sanders, otherwise known as ED.

Thank you to Sharon Biggs Waller, brilliant writer and horse expert, who told me everything I got wrong and how I could make it right. I love horses, and I have nothing but respect for the Sport of Kings. I only wish the racing drama in The Prince was a work of pure fiction and not based on actual tragedies and crimes that the few bad apples in the racing industry have committed (sadly, it is). If I get stuff right about horses in this book, it’s thanks to Sharon. If I get it wrong, I take the blame.

Bless you, Sara Megibow, my visionary agent, who three years ago saw the potential in my weird, twisty world and, against the advice of experienced others, took me on as a client. Boss—L’Chaim!

Most profound thanks to my editor, Susan Swinwood, who saw the magic of Mistress Nora three years ago and somehow knew the world would be needing the services of a young, smart, fearless kinky woman. Susan lets me get away with murder in my books. Okay, maybe not murder but everything else (and I do mean everything). I had a vision for my Original Sinners series, and I prayed at night I’d find someone who would trust my vision, would trust my judgment and let me put my guts on paper. I found the answer to every writer’s prayer in my editor. Thank you.

And thank you to Andrew Shaffer for coming into my life just when I need you even though I didn’t realize it at the time. Thank you for bring my editor, my other agent, my manager, my graphic designer, my best friend, my other half, my reason for coming to bed at night, my reason for not wanting to get out of bed the next morning and for being the most important thing of all—my Sir. I love you, Sir.

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