Omega The Girl in the Box - By Robert J. Crane Page 0,97

that it’s all part of the story. There’s always been a bigger plan, a thread that stretches through the entire series, and I hope it’s all going to be worth it for you, the reader, in the end. I even thought about ways I might be able to soften what just happened here in this book, but there really isn’t, not without fundamentally changing the story. I hope I’ve built enough trust with you by this point that you know I didn’t do what I did capriciously and for no purpose. Things were always going to get worse for Sienna before they got better.

I hope we see you for the next book (full preview of Book Six on the next page!) and if you want to know as soon as it comes out, CLICK HERE to sign up for my mailing list. I promise I won’t spam you (I only send an email when I have a new book released) and I’ll never sell your info. You can also unsubscribe at any time - like maybe now, in some of your cases, after I just killed one of your favorite characters in a horrible way. I hope you don’t feel that way, but I understand if you do. If you want to talk about it, feel free to send me an email (please don’t yell at me) at [email protected], stop by my Facebook page (Robert J. Crane (Author)), send me a tweet (@robertJcrane) or stop by my blog, which will have a dedicated discussion post where you can talk with other fans about this book (compain about how insensitive the author is - ZOMG what a jerk!!1!1!). If you don’t want to talk to me, you could always send Sienna a tweet of support - @SiennaNealon.

I hope to see you again next time.

Robert J. Crane

Acknowledgments

These are the people who helped me during the writing and publication of this book, in no particular order.

Hated me by the end:

Heather Rodefer, my tireless Editor-in-Chief, fearless wielder of the purple pen and vanquisher of all typographical errors. This is the girl who never cries at the end of sappy movies, nor sheds a single drop from sad books. The fact that I made her cry is probably the greatest achievement of my writing career. She punched me over this. Seriously. In the arm. It hurt.

Damarra Atkins, she of the witty inside-geek jokes, who called me worse than Joss Whedon (Wha?! Every writer is worse than Joss Whedon! How much worse is the question...). But at least she didn’t hit me.

Robin McDermott, who fixed many a technical error, and accused me of being far too wordy for my own good and yours, Dear Reader. I trust you all own a dictionary, though, so...

Shannon Garza, whose feelings I rely on to take the emotional temperature of my books. Whose heart I broke, whose tears I stole, whose forgiveness I may never earn. Sorry, Red.

Didn’t hate me by the end:

Paul Madsen, who found any number of proofreading oopsies on my part, and who gushed praise about the ending. Well, probably about as gushy as Paul gets, I’m guessing.

Kea Grace, the first to finish, first to render opinion, and whose measured evaluation allowed me to stay the course.

Kari Layman, who berated me for almost an hour on the phone at a moment when I seriously considered changing the ending to something that would be less angst-causing. If you didn’t like it, blame her.

Debra Wesley, whose gleeful cackling and constant attention to detail combined to make me worry about her until she told me she loved the story from top to bottom, and not to change a thing, even when Damarra (also) wanted to hit me for it.

Were thankfully neutral about the whole mess:

Sarah Barbour (aeroplanemedia.wordpress.com) who did the final edit and proofread in record time in spite of being hired at the very last minute, still managing to correct for errors great and small, including Russian language (Who does that!? She does!) and a number of suggestions that made the manuscript read much more smoothly. Sarah also did the editing on Untouched, but went unacknowledged due to authorial oversight.

Karri Klawiter of artbykarri.com, whose covers do shine like...uhh...well, they’re shiny, in a very «Firefly» sense of the word. Shiny.

To my parents, who raised me, to my wife, who tolerates me, and my kids, who drive me slightly crazy. Love you all.

About the Author

Robert J. Crane was born and raised on Florida’s Space Coast before moving to the upper midwest