Why are we here? Why do the people we love the most have to leave us? And where do we go after it happens? These are the questions I wrestled with throughout my childhood, teen, and adult years. Eventually, I resolved I would never truly know the answers, but that didn’t stop me from looking for them. And it wasn’t until I finished writing my first novel Proof of Heaven that I realized I may even have a couple things figured out after all––thanks in part to a few characters who helped light the way for me, namely one character in particular: Sean Magee, a NYC firefighter.

While he is a total creation of my imagination, Sean isn’t foreign to me at all. In fact, in some ways he is like every man I have ever loved––from my dad, to my two brothers, to even the men I eventually dated and actually “fell in love with” as a young woman. My character Sean is fiery, passionate, hilarious––and such a good time––but he could be a bit of a hot mess, too. (Pot meet Kettle. Yes, so am I. Who isn’t?) But, Sean’s really just stunted by his demons and perplexed by the heartbreaks and losses in his life.

Sean’s sister, Cathleen, sees this goodness in him and though he drives her crazy, she can’t help but be charmed and disarmed by him. He’s fundamentally strong, though his outward signs of seeming weakness (alcoholism and angry outbursts) belie this fact. And despite all of Cathleen’s protestations, she’s actually looking for a guy very much like Sean (and her father who was also a firefighter). I have a line in my book that sums it up: “Cathleen had been looking for that same strength in a man her entire life.”

I can relate.

Like Cathleen, I spent many (perhaps too many) years looking for a man that would “measure” up to the first loves in my life. I not only wanted a “strong” guy, I wanted a fearless, loving, and steady one who had my back. For the longest time I thought they only came wearing uniforms and riding on red engines. When early crushes and relationships failed, I kept looking for love in all the wrong places (and sometimes the right ones and even had a good run at it but “things happened,” as they often do, and eventually I had to keep looking again). Like Cathleen eventually does in Proof of Heaven, I also found that strength, humility, purpose, hope, love––and heaven––come in all sorts of packages, places, and even people––not just in firefighters. (Though, they’re not too shabby either).

Mary Curran Hackett is the author of Proof of Heaven. This is her first novel.

Avon Blog: What was it like for your debut novel to come out?

Carla Swafford: Unbelievable. I’ve never allowed myself to daydream the actual event, so most of it felt unreal. One of the funny moments was when I received the print-on-demand copy. I started reading it as if I never seen it before, and the characters became even more real than I had imagined in my head. It was an awesome, scary feeling.

AB: Did the experience live up to your expectations?

CS: Since I refused to imagine that day, I had no expectations. Well, maybe a few. They crept up on me the closer the day came. They were: that the day would be sunny and clear (it was), that I would celebrate with my friends online (we did), and that I would eat at my favorite restaurant to celebrate (I did).

AB: Did anything happen that you didn’t expect?

CS: Goodness, where do I start? I hadn’t expected that Avon would celebrate with a newbie to the extent that they did. I had already been walking on clouds, but the press release lifted my feet another six inches into the air.

And that strangers would be tweeting congratulations to me all day. It was the most text messages I’d ever received on my phone. Thankfully, my phone has a share plan and my youngest no longer texts the way she used to. So I was covered. And I LOVED it! My feet finally hit the ground at midnight. The excitement of the day was over, and I was sad about going back to my usual routine that included a regular office job.

AB: So you’re saying that nothing about your life’s really changed?

CS: Well, picture this: The next afternoon I’m driving home from work. The sky’s that beautiful light blue, like the popsicles I loved as a kid. My sunroof is open and letting in the early fall air. Then I realize I’m grinning. Big. I’m a published author. I’m living my dream as an Avon author. Sigh. Okay. I’ll hush before you start throwing up in your mouth.

Carla Swafford inherited her love of books from her dad and his father. Growing up, she read every book with a horse on the cover until the age of twelve when she read her first romance. Tired of waiting for her favorite authors to publish more books, she decided to write one. She joined Romance Writers of America and was the finalist in several contests. Carla lives in Alabama and works in a male-dominated occupation at the same company with her husband.

This is the perfect time to pick up Kerrelyn Sparks’ latest New York Times bestselling paranormal romance THE SEXIEST VAMPIRE ALIVE. And he is, without a doubt, undead playboy Gregori Holstein, the dashing immortal hero of this witty, charming, and super-hot story, the newest entry in Kerrelyn’s fabulous Love at Stake series. Whether you’re already an avid fan of the series, or you’re just coming to it, you will not want to miss this book. Go grab a copy!

Who can resist THE SEXIEST VAMPIRE ALIVE??

Have any other favorite vampires? ‘Fess up. There are a lot of them out there. Bwaaa…

Recently Avon offered the e-version of my 1998 book Baby, I’m Yours for $2.99. Since digital copies aren’t something an author receives, I downloaded it for my iPad. Now, a writer’s books are kind of like her kids–it’s impossible to pick a favorite. But Baby, I’m Yours has always held a special place in my heart and I was anxious to read it again to see how it had held up.

I’m soooo happy to report that, in, okay, my not-so-humble opinion, this book still kicks serious booty! I was enjoying it immensely when I came to a screeching halt on what would be page 293 of the printed version (pages vary wildly on digital readers). That was where I read:

He stiffened for a moment but then she felt his muscles loosen as he shitted on the ground.

Shifted–he SHIFTED! God, I was so appalled, not to mention horrified that anyone would think that’s what I had written. So I contacted Avon immediately, then, after some thought, posted a warning on Facebook and in a newsletter to my mailing list.

A funny thing happened, though. I had like a bazillion responses in which the poster said she/he had been having a perfectly awful day . . . until they read that stupid typo. And it’s true, you can’t help but laugh, because talk about a perfect storm of the wrong word! I had people who actually bought it for just that, and when they were offered a download to replace it after Avon promptly fixed it they passed.

I also discovered that the only reason this typo likely even was discovered is because I’m the world’s slowest, read-every-word reader. As far as I can tell no one but me even noticed it. One fan told me she’d bought her copy in ’07 and read it twice, but saw it as shifted until she read my post and went back to check.

So all’s well that ends well, right? And yes, I did just coin that phrase myself. Because words . . . well, they’re my life. I R a writer, U no.

Happy reading, everyone. I wish for you typo free books. ;-D

~ Susan

Read an excerpt of Baby, I’m Yours on my website.

I’d also love it if you’d join me on Facebook.

Once a year you lean forward, close your eyes, make a wish and blow out the candles. Several times a year (if you’re lucky), you look up into the night sky and catch that first star winking at you. You make a wish, and if you’re anything like me, you idly wonder if you’re accidentally making a wish on a planet.

Why do we limit our wishes? Why don’t we wish for things all the time? I used to make a wish anytime I saw the clock flip to 11:11. That got a little OCD after a while, and I found myself stalking the clock, so I started wishing things whenever I wanted.

And you know what? The magic doesn’t go out of the wish. Just because you wish on the whistle of the mockingbird that tweets at daybreak every day doesn’t mean it’s not a valid wish. And who knows what might be the tipping point for a wish? Maybe wishing twice will do it. Maybe wishing a million times is the magic number–if that’s the case, we need to wish hard and wish often.

In Wishes & Stitches, Naomi is the new doctor in Cypress Hollow. Everyone already has their core group of friends in place, and she doesn’t seem to fit in anywhere. She wishes on her knitting in private. Proud and solitary, she’d rather die than admit she’s lonely.

But wishing is what makes all our dreams come true, right? A wish is a stated desire, and we can’t know forward motion until we admit, and then say, what we want. Can Naomi admit she needs more than just her own company to be happy in her new town? And can amiable, extroverted Rig admit that his own private wish includes the pretty doctor he shares a practice with?

So wish away. Wish on everything. In the end, you’ll never regret what you wished for–only what you didn’t.

Don’t miss it! Bookperk is currently running a great offer for three Julia Quinn titles: MINX, ROMANCING MISTER BRIDGERTON, and JUST LIKE HEAVEN, which is her latest release. It’s a wonderful mix, including one early Julia Quinn book, one from the famed Bridgerton collection, and the first in her delicious new series about the Smythe-Smith musicians. If you’re a Bridgerton fan, it’s likely you remember the Smythe-Smiths – and you instinctively cover your ears when you hear about them. This may not be the book, or series, you’d choose for a sound track, but it is a wonderfully witty, charming and romantic read that is sure to capture your heart. And you certainly don’t have to be a Bridgerton fan to love it.

This offer is a great sampling from the Julia Quinn library, and if you ask me, I’d say you can’t beat Julia Quinn for pure entertainment. So click here to give this offer a whirl and do note that it ends on 8/23 at 11:00 pm EST.

Do you have a favorite JQ book? If I were hard-pressed to say, I think I’d have to go with THE DUKE AND I. It’s the debut in the Bridgerton series, and at the time I first read it, I was bowled over by the powerful emotion of the story. I have never forgotten my initial reaction to it, and I have loved that book ever since. Even though I adore all of Quinn’s work, that one will always hold a special place for me. Any notable JQ book for you?

1. Hot Summer Nights.
2. Three hot shifter brothers.
3. The end of the world and all that.
4. Declan O’Hara.
5. Yummy, hot sexytimes.
6. Heroines who aren’t door mats.
7. Evil enemies you will love to hate.
8. Jaguars and Vampires and Magicks oh my!
9. Did I mention, yummy, hot sexytimes?
10. Happy Ever Afters you’ll be screaming for!

His Darkest Salvation releases this August and it’s the third book in the Jaguar Warriors trilogy. What a ride it’s been. His Darkest Hunger introduced us to an incredible world where all sorts of otherworld creatures existed—jaguar and eagle shifters, vampires, magicks, demons, werewolves, gods, angels and even a few demons. His Darkest Embrace continued the saga, sweeping across the jungles of Belize. We travelled from the jungles to Mexico and the United States and Canada. The story ends with a bang in Sin City herself—Las Vegas.

So what’s up next? The thrilling new series League of Guardians that will kick off with Wicked Road to Hell. One of my most popular characters, sorcerer Declan O’Hara leads a new charge to rid the world of an encroaching darkness. Will he save the world? Will he get past his daddy issues? More importantly…Will he hook up with Ana? That is a question you’ll have to wait for!

I loved writing these books and one of the reasons I think it’s been such a blast is because they’re populated with so many different creatures. I love the variety and the many different threads it affords me to weave together. I have my favourites but I’m wondering…what’s yours? Do you love hot shifters? Or dangerous vampires? Sexy sorcerers or intriguing werewolves?

True story. Saturday night I was at a party and I got the right answer to this question: Who sang “Ballroom Blitz”? (Answer: below.) I also knew the answer to who sang “Don’t Pull Your Love Out on Me, Baby.” (Other answer below.) What this says about me I don’t even want to know.

And, since we’re talking about Ballrooms, TODAY marks the Great Debut on a brand new blog!

Six authors: Katharine Ashe, Sabrina Darby, Tessa Dare, Gaelen Foley, Sarah MacLean and Miranda Neville. One blog: www.theballroomblog.com This is what I am now officially calling A SuperBlog!!

So bookmark this today! And be sure to let them know what you think of their new venture. Their motto is “Daring ladies, dashing lords, and deliciously juicy gossip.” I think it’s going to be fantastically fun.

Answers: 1) Sweet; 2) Hamilton, Joe Frank, and Reynolds.

As the pastor of a small church in Albuquerque, New Mexico, I gave both a sermon for the adults and a sermon for the children every week. I usually tried to shape them both around the same Bible story or the same message. One month there were a couple of Sundays that I talked about angels. One week I told the children the Bible story about a man named Jacob who wrestled with an angel. His is the story of a guy on his way home to reconcile with an estranged brother and I told them that angels sometimes help us do the hard work of managing conflicts and finding forgiveness.

The next Sunday I told the Bible story of the prophet Elijah and how he ran in fear for his life until he fell exhausted in the desert, asking to die. I explained how an angel came to him bearing the gifts of food and water and the presents of rest and refreshment. It was that Sunday and with that story that I decided to give away some of the feathers I had collected to the children, explaining to them how I loved to find them and how they remind me of angels.

“In fact,” I said, “When I see a feather, I think that an angel has passed by that place.”

Jimmy, a bright eight-year-old boy who attended church every Sunday, liked feathers too. He took a couple of my long hawk feathers and stuck them in his shirt pocket before heading back to his seat.

Jimmy’s life is a difficult one. His mother, addicted to drugs, is in and out of trouble and in and out of unhealthy relationships. Jimmy was adopted by his great-grandmother when he was still a baby. Sometimes he has trouble concentrating and staying on task. He also struggles with rage. The days before the beginning of the school year that summer when I told them about angels and feathers were especially hard for Jimmy and his great-grandparents.

A few weeks after the angel sermons when he started third grade his great-grandmother dropped by the church. “I walked with Jimmy to the bus stop the first day of school,” she reported. “While we waited for the bus he spotted a feather right at his feet. He believes an angel was there.”

I smiled.

His great-grandmother continued. “He bent down and picked up the feather and asked me, ‘Why do you think an angel came here?’ And I told him, to make sure you had a good start to school. And then,” she said with a shrug, “he had the biggest grin I’ve ever seen.”

There was a pause. I knew it was no easy task for my parishioner trying to raise an eight year old. I knew she was often tired and frustrated and that she was deeply afraid that she would not always be there for her young great-grandson.

“I didn’t tell Jimmy what I really think,” she confessed.

“And what is that?” I wanted to know.

“I think Jimmy and I are going to be okay,” she replied. “I think the angel really came for me.”

And she drew in a deep breath, turned around, and left my office. And as she walked away, I thought I saw a feather drop from her fingers. And it was then that I realized that sometimes we merely find signs of angels but that sometimes, if we’re paying attention, we catch a true glimpse of them before they fall away.

There’s nothing quite as embarassing as writing a novella about an apocalyptic event — and/or series of events — and have it signed, sealed and delivered right before an eerily similar state of events happens in the real world. As I watched the news, I remember telling the mancandy, “Seriously, do you think people will be emailing me with accusations of being some sort of psychic or something?” He laughed at me, reassured me that no one would think that I was psychic or capitalizing on the misfortunes of the world, and then…promptly started telling his friends that Mother Nature had clearly torn a page from my book. Literally.

Really? Well… okay.

See, I’m fascinated — even addicted! — to disaster stories. Movies, short stories, novels, you name it, I love it. As bad as some of them really get — 2012, anyone? — I can’t help but love it. The whole concept for my Dark Mission series came while suffering in the demonic throes of a sick day. I was miserable, curled up on the couch and vegging with a blanket and hot tea, my various cats draped around me like particularly mellow kinds of ambulatory meatloaf, and staring blearily at the Discovery channel. As I recall, the quietly epic narrator was talking about supervolcanoes.

I don’t know exactly when it happened, but from the seeds of my fascination with real-world apocalyptica, the concept for Before the Witches grew. Suddenly, I found myself obsessed with the destruction of Seattle. How would it go? What would be the most likely disaster? What would the inhabitants of the Emerald City think? What could they do to survive?

And then, the more I thought about it, the more I realized there was more to the story than just the mechanics of a cataclysm. What would be left? What would be changed? What, in fact, would rise to take its place? Most disaster movies focus on the events of the cataclysm itself. Very few look beyond to what happens after. 2012 touched on it, but I always wanted to know: what would the people do once they disembarked from the boats? Would they immediately start warring for land and space and power? Would they try to work together? Would they each have different ideologies and find themselves fractured in neighboring city-states like some kind of Civilization game?

Our world, here and now, is a mix of peoples, thoughts, beliefs, wants, dreams. Those who call themselves witches are, more or less, tolerated in the US (particularly stringent parts of the country notwithstanding). In other countries, they are revered as shamans, accepted as guardians, vaunted as connections to the spirits. Still others persecute them, driving them out, killing them or imprisoning them. This is the life we know. A witch could comfortably live a fine life in, say, inner city Seattle. Perhaps start a shop, give Tarot readings, own a bookstore. Whatever appeals. What, I thought to myself, could be so terrible as to revisit the Witch Hunts that Salem made famous?

Simple: an unexplainable, irrational series of epic events that threaten humanity as a species. Include the usual individuals who inherently understand how to take advantage of events to gain power, a wealth of victimization and wash down with the blood of the so-called wicked. Voila! One grim, insular community, complete with near-martial law and a beaten down, paranoid, even degenerate population.

Before the Witches is so different in setting to Blood of the Wicked, and when I explain what it is, I always call it my Etch-a-Sketch end of the world. Think about the life you know. The city you live in. The people you befriend and the beliefs they hold. Imagine what would happen if a giant cosmic hand shook it all up.

Chicken Little gets a lot of flak for his squawking, but wouldn’t it be wild if maybe, just maybe, the sky really did fall?

Katya Zhuvova and Nigel Ferris are two in a city of hundreds of thousands, and as the sky falls on the city they live in, they’re going to have fight with everything they’ve got to survive. See what life was like before the towering city of glass, before the Mission’s dark mandate… Before the Witches, an original novella by me, Karina Cooper (http://www.karinacooper.com), and hopefully not some kind of psychic projection on the future of the world. If I’m going to be known for anything, I’d rather be known as “that lady who writes totally made-up and wildly speculative fiction”, thank you.