A gentle mist had settled low along the steep hills of the city park, veiling the tops of the impossibly tall pine trees that lined the sidewalk. Everything about the light in Stockholm was different. It wasn’t just the canopy of trees overhead or the muted sound that pulled her out this early, onto the winding paths of Vasaparken. But it’s light out, Caroline had reasoned as she stuffed her pepper spray into her pocket before closing the apartment door behind her. Especially if she’s from Detroit, which Caroline was.Īnd yet where did she find herself? Alone, in the middle of Stockholm somewhere around 4:00 am, and not for the first time this week. Thank you for your support as I’ve worked to turn a hobby into something more.Įveryone knows that a woman shouldn’t be out walking alone in the middle of the night. And to all the members of the San Francisco Area chapter of Romance Writers of American who have shared their expertise, tips and insights, I thank you for making this project as a whole possible.Īnd last, I’d like to thank my husband, sometimes hockey player and always at the heart of my own Stockholm Diaries adventure. Hazzard, for her support and humor and for walking me through everything from plot crisis to momentum crisis. I’d also like to thank my writing partner, K.D. Thanks for happily reading everything I’ve ever written, including the pieces that should never have left my computer. In this category, I’d like to especially thank my sister, Leah, Beta-reader extraordinaire and general cheerleader for all my writing projects. Your insights have helped shape the story on all levels.
First, I’d like to thank my list of Beta readers/editors/problem-finders, who tolerated this book in its less-than-finished state: Julia Victorine, Laura Burtness, Micki Gray and Wendi Wakefield. There are many people who have helped make this book possible. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any print or electronic form without permission. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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