Aliens Abroad by Gini Koch
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Well, this book was the latest I’ve ever been, as you know if you were waiting for it on its first scheduled release date. Or even its second. My bad. But then again, as Kitty knows and all y’all should by now, Life Happens and it really loves to get in the way of what you had planned.
Among the plans Life insisted upon changing is that, by the time you read this, I will no longer live in the Southwest but will be living in the Southeast. Because, apparently, if you say you never want to move, the cosmos hears you and gets right on the business of forcing you to move. The moral? Never say never.
Therefore, and as always, and possibly even more always than usual, I couldn’t have finished this book without the incredible support of Sheila Gilbert, the most amazing and unbelievably patient editor in the world, Cherry Weiner, the most supportive and protective agent out there, Lisa Dovichi, the most dedicated critique partner and best friend there’s ever been, and Mary Fiore, still the best and fastest beta reader in the West and the best mum, too.
Continuous love and thanks to Alexis Nixon and the other good folks at Penguin Random House and everyone at DAW Books, especially Josh Starr and Katie Hoffman, for being amazing 24/7. Same again to all my fans around the globe, my Hook Me Up! Gang, members of Team Gini new and old with extra smootchies to Team Research, all Alien Collective Members in Very Good Standing, Members of the Stampeding Herd, Twitter followers, Facebook fans and friends, Pinterest followers, the fabulous bookstores that support me, and all the wonderful fans who come to my various book signings and conference panels—you’re all the best and I wouldn’t want to do this without each and every one of you along for the ride. (Yeah, I say that every time. Because it’s true every time.)
Special love and extra shout-outs to: my distance assistant, Colette Chmiel, my personal assistant, Joseph Gaxiola, and my inventory manager, Kathi Schreiber, for figuring out how to create calm out of my rampant chaos and being my rocks when I need strength and my goofballs when I need laughs—you’re all wonderful and keep me going far more than you realize; Edward Pulley for continually allowing me to steal Joseph away all the time with good grace and being willing to talk about whatever pop culture thing strikes me for hours on end; Brad Jensen, for helping at the drop of a hat and acting like I’m the one doing you a favor for it; Museum of Robots and Model Building Secrets for making such awesome licensed products of my works every time I turn around and being awesome people at the same time; Shawn Sumrall, Amy Thacker, Joseph Gaxiola, Colette Chmiel, Jan Robinson, Craig & Stephanie Dyer, Koleta Parsley, Christina Callahan, Lynn Crain, Mariann Asanuma, Edward Pulley, Archie Bays, Anne Taylor, Terry Smith, Carol Kuna, Richard Bolinski, Duncan & Andrea Rittschof, and Chrysta Stuckless for fun, lovely, and delicious gifts that continue to make the long nights and deadline stress totally worth it; Shawn Sumrall and Joshua Tree Feeding Program, for providing amazing prizes for my big Evening Erotica events year after year; everyone who puts in sweat equity with me at cons, especially Joseph Gaxiola, Kathi Schreiber, Brad Jensen, Brendan Reilly, and Duncan and Andrea Rittschof; Jan Robinson and Robert Palsma for liking everything I do; Javier de Leon, Robert Palsma, Michele Sharik and Brianne Pituley, Scott Johnson, Dan & Emily “Amadhia” King, Oliver & Blanca Bernal, Eric and Jennifer Olson, and Brendan Reilly for many things; Chris “Delicious” Swanson for awesome concert experiences that ensure I still get out of the Casa; Adrian & Lisa Payne, Duncan & Andrea Rittschof, Hal & Dee Astell, Richard Clayton, and Dori Lovers for always showing up and making every event all the better for your presence; the Authors of the Stampeding Herd—Lisa Dovichi, Barb Tyler, Lynn Crain, Hal Astell, Terry Smith, Sue Martin, Teresa Cutler-Broyles, Phyllis Hemann, Rhondi Salsitz, Evan Ramspott, and Celina Summers—once again, our competition and your support kept me going, and I remain proud to pound hooves with every one of you (psst, buy their books); author Sharon Skinner for being my road warrior buddy (psst, buy her books); authors Erin Kellison, Erin Quinn, and Caris Roane for keeping me in pancakes, support, and love (psst, buy their books); and last but not least, author James Ray Tuck, Jr. for tremendous help with relocation (psst, buy his books).
Last only because that’s where you put the best, thanks to my daughter, Veronica, who helped in many ways, most of them having to do with relocation and keeping me sane about it, and my husband, Steve, who had the champagne on ice for when this book was finally done and who never lost faith that I would finish. I love you both even more than I love the cats. True story.
AH, TRAVEL.
In my younger days, I’d said I wanted to see the world. Good thing, because that’s worked out for me. Oh, sure, I saw most of the world while fighting horrible combinations of humans and alien parasites that turned into almost unstoppable and very deadly superbeings but, still, I saw many foreign lands and many more foreign bathrooms.
Then I got to see the extremely foreign land of Washington, D.C. and interact with the strange people who dwelled there—and who were, as it turned out, much more dangerous than superbeings—up close and far more personally than I’d ever expected or dreamed in my worst nightmares.
Along the way I married the hottest man on two legs, who just happened to be an alien from the Alpha Centauri system. Hey, it happens. We started our family, protected them and our world from evils domestic, foreign, and out of this solar system, and moved up in the ranks, usually against our mutual will.
After that, it started to get weird. Not normal weird. What my husband Jeff’s cousin, Christopher White, calls Kitty Weird. I got to change universes with another version of me and she and I got to save each other’s respective worlds and families.
After I got “home,” I and a bunch of our friends and family were dragged to another planet in another solar system and got to stop a solar civil war, which was fun if you define fun to be “not sure we’ll ever see each other or Earth again” and similar.
Then the galaxy decided to come calling and suddenly Earth was the new galactic hot spot, where all the cool, “in” aliens want to go to have at least a short vacay, if not to move in permanently. And, somehow, this appears to kind of be my fault.