Everything is exactly the way it’s supposed to be.
Wilde Sisters Beauty may not be at the same level of success it was in the other timeline. Still, I’m enjoying every second of building it up to its potential.
“I gotta run, but I love you. Text me if you need any heavy boxes moved or spiders killed.” Dax gives me one last kiss and a butt squeeze.
“I think Kierst has me covered.”
I’ve been babysitting my nieces and nephew every Tuesday night so Kierst could take up CrossFit. On cue, she flexes her muscles. “These glutes were made for lifting.”
“And I prefer to form alliances with my eight-legged friends.”
Dax waves to Aunt Livi and my sister, and as he opens my door to leave, I call out to him.
“I love you, Daxon McGuire.”
He turns, flashing my favorite smile in the whole world. “I love you, Gemma McGuire.”
“Slip of the tongue?”
He shrugs, the smile still on his face. “Maybe? Or maybe I have plans.”
To my favorite Hamiltonian, Kath:
When I write the parts I hope are funny, it’s your laugh I hear in my head.
Acknowledgments
I think this might be my favorite part of the whole process: thinking back on the wild ride that is publishing and transforming a late-night what-if into an entire book.
Emma Caruso, you get me and all the woo girls that live inside my head. I knew from the moment we met that you were the right editor for this book, and if you didn’t subconsciously hear me muttering from across borders as I worked through our many, many edits, I will tell you now what I chanted over and over to my computer screen: You are right! This is better! How are you so good at this?
Bibi Lewis, you are a superstar agent and a magical book whisperer. I picture the inside of your brain like the Beautiful Mind meme, dissecting my drafts and pulling out exactly what is needed to make them complete. You are a joy to work with. I feel incredibly lucky to be part of Team Ethan Ellenberg, and I look forward to sending you many more “This is good, right?” emails.
The Dial Press and Penguin Random House team, you are damn fine at what you do. Taylor M., I’m so sorry I still don’t know how to use a comma （and very grateful you do）。 Whitney Frick, Avideh Bashirrad, Cindy Berman, Diane Hobbing, and Debbie Aroff, it’s been an absolute dream to work with you. Thank you for all your hard work putting This Spells Love out into the world.
I could write another entire book on all of the incredibly talented authors who have taken time to read, advise, critique, listen, and send incredibly inappropriate imagery over the last few years.
Katie Gilbert, my writing soulmate, you are so talented it makes my head hurt. I think about how far we’ve come from our days as baby authors and laugh, then cry a little, then laugh again. I would not be here without your constant kind words at every single step of this journey.
To the Boners: Aurora Palit, Christina Arellano, Jessica Joyce, Mae Bennett, Rebecca Osberg. Publishing can be hard on the heart. You were my lifeline in the toughest parts, pulling me out of the rough waters with snail dicks and Joshua Jackson in a cable-knit sweater.
My first readers （this title does not do you justice, let’s instead go with dear friends）， Amanda Wilson, Blue, Kathryn Ferrer, Mae, Maggie North, Sarah T. Dubb, and Shannon Bright, you made me feel funny and smart. Your ideas made this book so much better. I hope you see your fingerprints on these pages.
To the SmutFest 2.0 community, you are my people. You bring joy （and some very fine smut） into my life every day. Thank you for being my safe space. Toronto Romance Writers, there’s clearly something in the water up here. We the North! And we know our romance. You’ve been a welcoming and supportive community from my very first meeting. Extra thanks to Hudson Lin for the retreats that gave me time and mental space to bring this baby into the world, and Farah Heron and Anya Simha for answering my endless publishing questions.
Noel and Dave, my loving parents, who told me I could be anything I wanted to be （as long as I got a business degree first）。 Thank you for telling me every day that I was smart, making me carry the ski bags, buying me Baby-Sitters Club packs every time we went to BJ’s, and setting the perfect example of what a happily ever after looks like.
Howie Wabb, you made it easy to write about two sisters who will always and forever have each other’s backs （and also hate owls, even though they made me cut that part out）。
To Andrew, your penis obviously inspired all the sex scenes. （I’m only writing this because our kids still refuse to read books without pictures.） Love your guts. Thanks for giving me the space to do this.