Copyright © 2010 by Amy Atwell

I’ve always loved visiting Las Vegas, so when the character of Cosmo Fortune conjured himself in my brain, I was happy to follow his lead. It’s a difficult task to create fiction against such a well-known backdrop, so my thanks to Las Vegas, Nevada, for providing a larger-than-life setting for my fertile imagination!

Many wonderful people helped me through the process of writing this story. Thanks to Angi Morgan, godmother of this story, and my other critique partners, P.J. Alderman, Barbara White Daille, Dale Mayer and Therese Walsh. You ladies provided perspective and helped me find the trapdoor when I’d written myself into a corner. Special thanks to Debbi Michiko Florence for ten years of reading and sharing and reminding me to hold fast to the dream.

Thanks must also go to the women and men at WritingGIAM (“Dare Greatly!”), many of whom provided a keen eye and valuable feedback as well as inspiration during the dark times. Also, thanks to the Pixie Chicks and La La La Sisters, who give me support from afar via the internet. And to the dozens of writers who judged this manuscript in contests, whether you gave me high scores or low, I learned so much-thank you.

My heartfelt thanks to my agent Kevan Lyon for believing in this story, and to my editor Deborah Nemeth for giving it a public life.

But most of all, thanks and all my love to my husband. You bring me boundless joy.

No doubt about it-Cosmo Fortune was a royal pain in the ass.

Mickey stepped back into the anonymity of the stage’s curtained shadows, aware that alerting the wily old coot to his presence would be a mistake. Instead, he rifled his jacket pocket for the familiar shape of the pain reliever bottle. Withdrawing two oval tablets, he popped them in his mouth and swallowed without water. With luck, they’d cut off the headache before it turned horrific.