The Club of Lost Causes #1: The Ressurection Frat

Dedication:

For the ones who summoned this chaos.

To Melchior — Game Master, resident chaos deity, and original high priest of the plot spiral. You rolled the dice, unleashed the weird, and somehow became my husband. Turns out “let’s play a game” was actually a proposal in disguise. Well played. No take-backs.

To Celestyn (a.k.a. Stephen, Lord of Elegant Brain Damage) — thanks for announcing your mental instability like a weather report and still convincing all of us to gather semi regularly to fight eldritch horrors. You’re the reason this story exists. Also probably the reason we need therapy.

To Mati (our Aiden) — you let us invade your house, your fridge, and occasionally your sanity. We owe you more than snacks. You never said no. You never said much at all. That’s love, in the quiet way.

To Waszku (Bob in flannel and actual paperwork) — thank you for reminding us what America really looks like when it isn’t on fire, glowing, or haunted. You gave our fiction a spine. And you never even flinched.

This book started as a game.

Then it became a family.

And somehow, against all odds, a love story snuck in.

So here’s to dice, ghosts, and the long con of falling in love with your co-player.

– A.K.