Hi, my name is D. V. Stone. I am a multi-genre author who also enjoys reading across genres. On this page you'll meet a great group of writers and get an insider's view into their lives and books. I hope you enjoy this special peek and find new and exciting reads.
Who am I? I’m a daydream believer, but not a homecoming queen (The Monkees, anyone?). Okay, cheesy fun aside, I write romance and women’s fiction novels that center on heartache, healing, and hope. I also dabble in non-fiction work on the side, my scientific background and outdoorsy passions coming through in articles about travel, national parks/nature, and families.
Interests. I spin a lot of plates right now whilst in the thick of the parenting years. For fun, I love to get outside, no matter the season or weather. I love hiking, traveling, exploring, gardening (flowers, fruits, and veggies), reading, and baking (and eating—is that a hobby?). I long to travel again out of the “safe” zones of New England, but I did get to enjoy some R&R in one of my closer favorites, the White Mountains of New Hampshire.
Network. I am a member of a few in-person (or currently, Zoom) writers’ groups, #5amwritersclub (when I can – I do join our Zooms monthly), Paranormal Romance Guild member/author, and Women’s Fiction Writers Association. I connect with other authors at The Wild Rose Press for weekly chats and we follow and support each other online, via email, and with promotion. I love meeting new authors and connecting. We can be each other’s greatest cheerleader.
Desk. It used to be tucked into my kids’ playroom, me writing around the daily energy (and creative messes and cacophony) of two young kids. Recently, I lugged my old consignment store desk upstairs into a corner of my bedroom. Now I have new carpet tickling my toes and a bit more quietude. Still have a view outside. It’s a bit quieter here now. I keep it neat, usually speckled with no less than four or five Post-it’s, pens, lip balm, daily calendar, stack of notes, and a few writing books at my side or feet.
Outrageous talent or tidbit. Hmm, well, not sure on talents unless multi-tasking counts. I love to talk to and tend my flower gardens. I’m a bit obsessed, but their beauty brings me such joy. I love sharks and went to school for Marine Science before switching to Microbiology/Immunology, to only step away from that career path young to raise kids and write novels. I can make some really cute fondant cakes, too. Outrageous? I won $10k on a scratch lotto ticket when I was in college. Spent it on books and tuition.
Window. Ah, the sights of autumn in New England. No matter where I am in my house, I’m propped up with my laptop or desktop to guarantee a view outside. Nature is my muse and autumn shares the top spot with summer as far as resplendent scenery. A tree across the street has already lost half its leaves. My pear, birch, oak, and red maples have only begun to drop their color onto the palette of autumn. The colors are a splash of life! (as we make way for our looong winters) Green things just make me happy. Grass, hills, mountains, trees, lakes, nature trails, flowers and vegetable gardens. Ah…oh and there is usually a steaming cup of coffee beside me to enjoy the view, too.
A Hundred Lies
Rosalie Threston's fortune-telling lies have caught up with her. Uprooted yet again, she's on the run from a ruthless English noblewoman. She flees to Scotland and seeks refuge in the arms of a laird's son who happens to be a real Seer.
A bloody past and inevitable future plague Domhnall Montgomerie. He avoids physical contact with others to ease the painful visions. When an accidental touch reveals only delight, he wonders if Rose is the key to silencing the Sight.
Mystical awakening unravels with each kiss. But can Domhnall embrace his gift in time to save her life, even if it means exposing her lies?
If you're interested in purchasing Jean's books here are the links
Amazon Barnes and Noble iBooks Bookbub Goodreads Kobo Google
Jean’s background is in science and she draws from her interests in history, nature, and her family for inspiration. She writes historical and contemporary romances and women's fiction. She also writes articles for family-oriented travel magazines. When she's not writing or chasing after children, she enjoys tending to her flower gardens, hiking, and doing just about anything in the outdoors.
And if you want to find out more about her
Website Twitter Facebook Goodreads Bookbub Instagram Amazon Author Page
Here's a few more pictures Jean shared with us outside her window. I'm kinda jealous.
Who – I’m Hannah Rowan, a life-long “Jersey girl” and romance author. I wrote for a local newspaper for many years, and some of the stories I covered gave me ideas for some of my books. I’ve written for women’s magazines, True Confessions, and humor magazines. Why do I write romance? Who doesn’t love a happy ending? With the world in its current chaotic state, I find it comforting to know things will all work out in the end. I enjoy creating the journey that gets my people to a happy ending.
Interests – In my “day job” I work at an assisted living facility doing activities with residents. Working with the elderly has given me a new perspective on life. I love that my residents tend to say whatever is on their minds. Otherwise, I love to swim, do water aerobics, and kayak. My husband and I have been hiking our way through the many state and county parks in our area, and I love to travel. My goal is to visit all 50 states. I have 10 more to go! And of course, I love to read.
Network—I’m a member of Romance Writers of America, New Jersey Romance Writers, and RWA/NYC. I participate in a variety of groups online, especially Romance Gems, a group of former Precious Gems authors and our friends, some of whom have put together the Last Chance Beach: Summer’s End box set.
Desk – Oh, must you ask? The second bedroom in our condo has become the office and I’m surrounded by various filing cabinets, file carts, bookshelves, papers, papers, and more papers. I try to corral the papers by creating folders for each topic but then there are the little scraps I’ve ripped out of newspapers or magazines or scrawled in a note I can’t read later. Some people with messy desks claim to be able to find everything in spite of appearances, and I can too…eventually.
Outrageous? I’ve been told by some people that I have an inappropriate sense of humor. And at other times, gallows humor. Well, when everything’s falling apart and you can’t do anything about it, you might as well laugh, I say.
Window – The desk where I write doesn’t have a good window situation. Our little balcony is outside the windows next to me, but all I see are treetops in the summer and bare branches in the winter. In my living room, though, I have a nice big wall of windows that offer a lot of light for my plants, and really brighten the room.
Can't Buy Me Love
By Hannah Rowan
After a long hiatus, I’m delighted to return to writing by participating in the Last Chance Beach: Summer’s End box set with 13 other Romance Gems authors. My Story, Can’t Buy Me Love, brings lottery winner Moira Campbell and wealthy ex-playboy turned handyman Noah Ramsey to Last Chance Beach. She won the big lottery but discovers it’s not what she’d dreamed it would be, while he’s had things handed to him all his life and has decided he wants to be somewhere where people want him for himself instead of what his money and status can bring. Both are disguising their identities, but can they learn to trust each other with the truth?
Can’t Buy Me Love - Excerpt
One minute he was standing in the newly remodeled kitchen. The next he was nearly knocked off his feet, enveloped in a happy, squealing female body as she threw her arms around him, and improbably jumped up and down at the same time.
“Thank you so much,” she said. “You put in a good word for me, didn’t you?”
“I might have.”
She fit so nicely in his arms. He hugged her tighter, savoring the mix of feminine curves and finely toned muscles. He drew in the now-familiar scent of suntan lotion and some sort of citrusy shampoo, and finally gave in to what he’d been fantasizing about since his first glimpse of her stretching outside her car.
With her arms still looped around his shoulders, she leaned back, grinning up at him. “This is just the best news,” she said.
As he watched, her grin slowly faded. He felt the moment she grew aware of his body pressing into hers. Her eyes widened, blinked, and she licked her bottom lip. And that was that.
He threaded his fingers through her hair, drew her head closer, leaned in to taste those lips himself. She hesitated just for a moment, but then her arms tightened around him and she gave herself over to the kiss.
Seconds, minutes, long undetermined stretches of time passed while he lost himself in the sensation of soft lips, silky hair, seductive scent. His body responded with an insistence he hadn’t felt in ages, with a wonder he hadn’t felt maybe even since his first few romantic encounters as a young man. She made no move to pull away, and her soft sighs had his head spinning.
Finally, they pulled apart, but continued to look into each other’s eyes. Both breathing hard. Was she as affected by the intensity of that kiss as he was? He certainly hoped so.
Freebie: The companion to the box set is a free recipe book, Cocktails At Last Chance Beach, that contains recipes that our heroes and heroines may have enjoyed during their time at the beach, or which readers can sample while enjoying the stories.
Find Hannah Online:
AMAZON | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | BOOKBUB
A little self promotion before we get to today's special guest. Rock House Grill is in the Rocky Mountain Cover contest. Here's the link https://forms.gle/pjorup1h9WnfWaXC8 The cover artist, Tina Lynn Stout, did an amazing job. Also don't forget to sign up for my Newsletter. https://mailchi.mp/23c28f1b6477/dvstoneauthorcom
Now without further yapping from me, let's 👀 into the life of my guest.
Welcome! Who are all these people peeking in through my window? No matter. I’m pleased to see you. Authors sometimes live rather isolated lives, and that’s especially true these past few months. But if you look through the glass here, and past my lacy curtains, you’ll see I’m not so very different from other folks. My husband and I live in Western New York, in a tiny ranch house (that thinks it’s a country cottage) some ten miles south of Lake Ontario. Nearly half of our four acres is covered by trees that we harvest, since we heat our home exclusively with wood in the winter. No frills, here, and not a lot of conveniences unless you count the internet, which I definitely do. I don’t even have a dishwasher, other than my husband who, since he retired, often performs that chore for me. Oh, and here on the sofa right next to me? You’ll see the center of our world—our rescue dog, Lacy, whom we adopted almost two years ago.
Inspiration. What inspires me? Day to day, it’s the beauties of the world around me. Just look over your shoulder at that gorgeous, wild garden there! I am fortunate to inhabit this little pocket of bliss in the country. I’m always watching the face of nature, be it in the wide, ever-changing skies, the wildflowers that bloom along the road or a glimpse of a mother deer with two fawns heading into the woods. I can hear nature’s voice in the rustling of the trees, or the squeaky violin music they play on a windy day. When it comes to inspiration for my writing, that frequently comes via music also—a song or a phrase I overhear. Most often, it comes when I ask myself the question, “What if?” What if a Viking berserker fell in love with his captive? What if a woman thought she saw her dead husband on a rainy night? What if the characters in fairy tales told their own stories, and defied the old tales we know so well? More than anything, I love answering that question, especially when it challenges me.
Necessities. As you can see by looking around the modest furnishings of this little house, I don’t need much. My computer of course, so I can type up and submit my stories, as well as communicate with my fellow authors and other friends. Electricity and running water are great, but in the past we’ve survived out here without both. Music’s a requirement. I need to hear Jethro Tull while I’m writing Steampunk, and Frifot when I’m consorting with Vikings. At the moment, my stereo is broken so thank goodness for Pandora! These past few months have brought another need to glaring light. Though I’m an inveterate introvert, it turns out I need contact with those I love—to see the face of my sister across a restaurant table, to comfort a colleague with a touch on the arm, to hug my daughter. To hold my new born granddaughter. No, a glimpse of someone on Zoom just isn’t the same. Turns out we’re social creatures after all.
Decisions. When you think about it, our decisions define our lives. Peering through my window, you can see the results of my choices everywhere. Years ago, I decided to purchase mostly brown carpets and furniture, since I had a brown dog at the time. (Call me lazy, go ahead. It’s better than constant vacuuming.) I decided to buy a laptop and so my lap became my office. Though I have a supposed work room, I never work there but station myself on the sofa—it’s near the woodstove, and Lacy can cuddle up next to me. Because we decided to live in the country, my work is punctuated by the passing of rumbling manure trucks, from the dairy farm down the road. Because we value the presence of our animal neighbors as much as the human ones, no one will ever hunt on our land. Moment by moment, you might say our choices create our existence.
Origins. If you look carefully around this little house, you’ll see my origins on display. There are pictures of my Newfoundland ancestors on the wall, and other beloved folks crowding the bookshelves. There’s a throw pillow that says, Newfoundland, my heart…my home. Here, over the sofa, is a huge painting by Edmund Sullivan called Landfall Erin, reflecting my Celtic roots. In this other wall grouping, there are tributes to all my dogs loved and lost—for they are in large part the origins of my patience and ability to love. There are favorite books, that taught me how to write. There are copies of my own books, each of which also taught me something, and carries a piece of my heart.
Wonder. When you come to visit me, bring your sense of wonder. Please leave dispassion and practical discrimination at the door—or window. This is a zone of magic, of the ever-possible, of what may be. Just as the imagination has no limits, neither does this realm have boundaries. When we sit and talk, we may range from far, mystical kingdoms to the brick streets of Steampunk Buffalo, to the depths of Sherwood Forest. Here, you may take off your overcoat, but in its place I would have you don the enchanted cloak of a child who believes, just because it’s so much fun to invest in wholehearted wonder.
My latest release is RapAnn’s All, part of my Fairy Tales Retold series.
Surrendered to a powerful witch at birth, RapAnn doesn't know her parents. When she resists becoming the mistress of a lecherous roué, her guardian imprisons her in a tall tower as punishment. There, she has only the music of her voice and the company of the birds for comfort.
Prince Kenzie, hearing her song, vows to free her, but the tower lies in the grip of the witch's dark magic. Even if their love survives the spell, how can RapAnn, deceived by illusion, ever see the truth in Prince Kenzie's eyes?
Ways to connect with me
Who Friends know me as Barbara Davis Kroon but I write suspense novels as B. Davis Kroon. I began ‘published’ writing while I was a student at Willamette University where I wrote the book and lyrics for a full-length musical comedy called The Lady’s Game. After college, my writing attention turned from theatre to poetry. Over the years I wrote and published poetry in various literary magazines and was selected to be part of Cloud Bank’s publication, Millennial Spring, Eight New Oregon Poets. My suspense/thriller Trap Play (The Ben Leit Series) was published by Wild Rose Press in March 2020; I’m currently working on book two for the series.
Interests – My husband would say my all-time interest is politics, and I confess I’m something of a political junky. But there is also, Dogs. For years I lived with West Highland White Terriers. But four of the last five dogs have been Cairn Terriers (think Toto, Wizard of Oz). There’s also reading (nonfiction and suspense). And thanks to coronavirus, my interest in gardening has resurrected so when I can’t stand the computer, I hit the garden to weed, weed, weed.
Network—I’m a member of Pacific Northwest Writers’ Association, Willamette Writers, Oregon Writer’s Colony. I’ve been part of the Fat Friday writer’s group for the past nine years. We meet Fridays for critiques—currently by Zoom.
Desk—Short stacks: the last chapter with notations; the step-sheet that keeps me on track and reminds me what’s next; a rolodex because I’ll never lose my contacts again to a hacker (fool me once yada-yada); water bottle; all the usual office stuff I learned to depend on when I worked in law; and a mousepad photo of my husband and me with all of Barcelona in the background.
Outrageous—I spent time being a professional actor.
Window—Looks out on the front yard and cul-de-sac leading to our house. I can glance past the computer screen and out to a bird bath and a pair of tubular bird feeders that foil the local squirrels.
After one concussion too many, Ben Leit is done as the NFL’s golden boy quarterback. Then his father, who was about to expose a bombshell sports scandal, is murdered.
Mimi Fitzroy, CIO for Rex Sports International, panics as she discovers thousands of stolen emails that prove Rex is breaking federal laws—big time. Worst of all, for certain, somebody is using Rex to stalk the recently murdered Frank Leit.
As Ben and Mimi work together to find a killer, they also find a connection they weren’t expecting and didn’t want. They are headed for an explosive showdown in Seattle…and not everyone will walk away.
BUY: Amazon also available at Nook, KOBO, and other fine retailers
Who: Award-winning author of western historical and contemporary romances and women’s fiction. I divide my time between Wyoming and Long Island, New York, now, but lived for forty years in the U.K. I’m published by The Wild Rose Press and have also had several novellas self-pubbed and in anthologies.
Interests: Travel and reading! I love going west, discovering new places, and have also traveled throughout Europe, Latin America, and lived in Nigeria for a spell. It’s true that travel broadens the mind. And I can’t go anywhere without a book; if I’m waiting in a doctor’s office, on a plane, or anywhere else with spare time, there must be a book for me to read.
Network: I’m a member of Women Writing the West and the Women’s Fiction Writers Association, plus a ton of groups on Facebook. For my social media links, please see below—and get in touch! Oh, and I’m published by The Wild Rose Press.
Desk: I am lucky enough to have an office just off my bedroom, very private, so my desk is pretty messy. Above it are three bookshelves with some handy reference books and fiction I’ve enjoyed, and behind me is a sofa (never used) and two more bookcases. But the desk is always in a state of chaos, surprise surprise. It has my desktop computer, plus all the modems etc. for the house and a ton of papers.
Outrageous: I’m not sure I do anything that can be called outrageous. You’ll have to ask my daughter…
Window: My home is on two acres of woodland so every window looks out on to trees, pine mostly here in East Hampton. When I’m in Wyoming I can see the Tetons, which is very inspirational!
And speaking of Wyoming, my latest book is an historical western romance that takes place predominantly in Wyoming. It’s called Shot Through the Heart. Here’s the blurb:
Shot Through The Heart - Andrea Downing
Gunslinger Shiloh Coltrane has returned home to work the family's Wyoming ranch, only to find there's still violence ahead. His sister and nephew have been murdered, and the killers are at large.
Dr. Sydney Cantrell has come west to start her medical practice, aiming to treat the people of a small town. As she tries to help and heal, she finds disapproval and cruelty the payment in kind.
When the two meet, it's an attraction of opposites. As Shiloh seeks revenge, Sydney seeks to do what's right. Each wants a new life, but will trouble or love find them first?
And here’s an excerpt:
“Dr. Cantrell’s pretty stern. You better be ill,” he said.
“What?” Shiloh felt his brows meet as he peered inside the storeroom. “Holy cow,” he mumbled. “Holy cow.”
His vision from the saloon. Brown-gold hair with lights of red, a color he couldn’t remember ever having seen before, and blue eyes like a Wyoming sky, almost violet. Her skin was pale, pure and unblemished, like satin he imagined. He was tongue-tied.
Dr. Cantrell had her arms crossed against her chest as if she were protecting herself, but she breathed out a weary sigh. She studied his face.
“I’m Sydney Cantrell,” she murmured at last. “Looks like you’re lucky not to have lost your eye.”
“My eye?” He started to bring his hand up but noticed he was dripping blood from a cut.
“You better sit down. If you can.”
He looked around and there was one wooden chair that looked as if it had been brought in from someone’s dining room, the shopkeeper’s most like, and a sturdy long table, which may have served as a dining table once. Her doctor’s bag sat in a corner, open with several medicines and whatnot sticking out. He started to lower himself onto the chair but let out a yelp that would have awakened the dead.
“Here.” She took his arm and guided him to the table. “Let me see.”
Embarrassed in a way he’d never thought possible, he stood to consider whether to make a dash for the door and deal with things himself.
“Look,” he said. “I think I better go. I thought…”
“You thought I was a male doctor. Everyone does.”
“Until they see you.”
“Hang your hat on the back of that chair and let me get to work.”
She crouched behind him, unable to stop the thought her patient’s physique was a prime example of why a female shouldn’t be a doctor, according to her last professor. Oh, yes—we wouldn’t be able to treat men without thinking of marriage. Ha! She shook her head to banish the thought, now supplanted by admiration for the curve of his buttocks, and stood up. Put on her professional tone. Looked into eyes the color of a storm-brewing sky, and felt a rush of desire to run her hands through the shaggy blond hair.
Never. Never ever.
She breathed out, pulled herself back to the moment.
“You’re covered in glass.”
“What else is new?”
“Are you in pain?”
“Some. It can wait. Not enough to concern me.”
“You’re going to have to take off your pants and lie on your stomach so I can examine you.”
He didn’t take his eyes off her as he said, “Well then you’re going to have to help. My hands…” He held out his hands, palms up, for her to see.
She realized he was right but resented her own huff of annoyance as he lifted his arms away from his sides. She reached for the buckle on his gun belt first, her irritation with his smirk making her proceed faster than she might have, with less care.
“Did that hurt?”
“’Course it dang well hurt. I’ve got glass—”
“I can see you’re covered in glass, Mr.?” It suddenly struck her she’d been so stunned by her patient, she hadn’t even got his name.
“Coltrane. Shiloh Coltrane.”
You can purchase Shot Through the Heart at all good booksellers, including:
Barnes and Noble https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/shot-through-the-heart-andrea-downing/1137387142?ean=9781509232345
iBooks on app
And you can find me at:
Amazon Author Page: : http://www.amazon.com/Andrea-Downing/e/B008MQ0NXS/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0
Peggy Jaeger is at it again! Instead of a gender reveal, help me celebrate her cover reveal. Congratulations!
Mistletoe, Mobsters, and Mozzarella
Pre Order today amzn.to/2Y9Yj8f
Finding a body in the freezer of the family deli isn’t the way Madonna San Valentino planned to start her day.
Adding insult to injury, the investigating detective is the one guy she’s never been able to forget. After seven minutes of heaven in the back seat of his car when they were teenagers, Tony Roma skipped town without so much as a thanks for the memory.
Just when Madonna thinks the present situation can’t get any worse, Tony is ordered to go undercover at the deli to ferret out a killer. Forced to work together, she vows to keep their relationship cool and professional. But with the sexy, longing looks he tosses her at every turn, Madonna’s resolve is weakening.
With Christmas drawing closer and Tony’s investigation taking an unexpected turn, Madonna is at her wit’s end. Can she really be falling for him again? And will he wind up leaving her broken hearted and alone like the last time?
If you're interested in learning more about Peggy here are some links
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00T8E5LN0
Authors database: https://authorsdb.com/community/15814-peggy-jaeger