Who is D.C. Stone?
D.C. Stone is an e-book author and full-time fraud investigator when she isn’t diving into the world of Fiction.
She lives in the north-east with her incredibly supporting husband, two kids, and the all American black Labrador puppy. She’ll deny any association with the grumpy cat that also resides in the house, but he is there, never-the-less.
After serving eight years of service with the United States Air Force, she went on to transition into the world of Financial Crimes and became a lead investigator for many years.
Reading has always been a passion of hers, getting lost in a good, steamy romance one of her favorite past times. That passion took a back seat as soon as she discovered her own love for writing and recreating her own stories and characters. Her writing concentrates on Romance with specifics in Paranormal, Suspense and Erotica.
Now, when she isn’t trying to solve a new puzzle in the world of fraud, she is engulfed with coffee, her laptop, and all those crazy characters in her head. Trying to keep up with that crazy bunch is a skill many would yearn to have.
She is a member of the Romance Writers of America, New Jersey Romance Writers, and the Liberty State Fiction Writers. Come stop by on Facebook, Twitter or her website and say hello!
A little more about D.C. Stone…
- What inspired you to become an author?
You know this is a really good question. There is no real pinpoint on just why I chose to start writing. All I knew was one day I wanted to do it. As a little girl, or even a teenager I wasn’t even a big time reader. I enjoyed picking up a book here and there, but never really “fell in love” if you know what I mean. It wasn’t until about 5 years ago that I truly couldn’t seem to put down a book. My love for reading transformed into one of writing, and there you go, here I am. I guess that whole story just goes to show you, you’re never too old to work on your dream. 😉
- What makes your novel unique? Why should I buy it?
This novel is unlike any other paranormal out there. My men are not only members of Special Forces in the United States military, but they are also Justice Demons. What does that mean exactly you ask? Well, they are demons, yes. However, they hold a very important job on Earth, and believe it or not, they are meant to be for the better of good. Unless….
- What piece of advice would you give a new author?
Don’t give up. I know everyone pretty much offers that same advice, but it really is the best piece to give. This industry is very competitive and extremely unforgiving. You may come across members who hate your work, who tell you to give up because you will never get your book published. Don’t listen to them. If that were true, we’d never get to experience the fantastical stories of Stephen King.
One other thing is just because you are an author, or trying to write and finish that story of yours … don’t. stop. reading. You need to fall back on the basics of just what drew you to become an author in the first place, and that is always, and will always be the love of reading.
- Is there anyone who stands out as a mentor in your writing career?
Yes. Although, I highly doubt she is aware of it. Sorta. Maybe? *winks* Pamela Clare. This woman has an amazing talent and a very almost seamless way that she brings together her stories. She leaves me speechless every, single, time.
- Using an X meets Y approach, for example Lord of the Rings meets 50 Shades of Grey, how would you describe your novel?
Oh boy, *laughing.* Hmmmm, Black Dagger Brotherhood meets Julie Ann Walker’s Black Knights?
- Is being an author your primary career?
No, I’m also an Internal Fraud Investigator and a part-time literary editor.
- What is the one thing about a book that will make you close the cover and not finish it?
My girls at Coffee Talk will probably start throwing things at me, but it’s the following. (Prepares to dodge the objects):
- Too many adverbs. These are okay to use, but when they are overused, it turns your story from showing, into telling. And that’s the last thing I want to read.
- Not getting me into your character’s head. I want to know and love your character, and the only way to do that is to get INTIMATE with them. Make sure you stay there and don’t let up until the very end. Julie Ann Walker does an amazing job at this.
- Not painting the picture. If you’re not one for a lot of description, that’s fine. Some authors do it, some don’t. But if you refuse to paint that picture for me, refuse to let me see just what is going on, and where you are at, what you are thinking (mind you = character) then that’s going to be the fastest way to get me to close that book. Keep it real, and keep it close.
- Describe yourself in three words.
Inquisitive, Detecting, Loyal
Short summary of Feral Cravings:
Bari has always felt a presence lurking deep inside of him, waiting to get out. After being injured in Iraq, he suddenly finds himself thrust back into his hometown, forced to face his past. He finds that what’s lurking inside of him is real, waiting, and running out of patience fast.
What happens as the evil of his past merges with his wants of the future? What happens when the man and beast inside crave a female from his past? What happens when Bari learns that he is anything but human
A short excerpt:
Without warning, the room started to spin; a sudden, wicked wave of dizziness assaulted him. Bari lifted a hand, reaching for the wall, and grunted through the nausea. He wobbled on his legs, tried to reboot his mind. Christ, not this shit again! He needed his head. He had to get away, but in a desert half the size of the US of A, he didn’t have any fucking options.
A sound—a whisper to his left. He snapped his head up. Nothing. Just air and trash. The whisper moved to his right, suddenly magnified. Like nails on a chalkboard. Bari whirled, lifting the pistol at his leg, his M-4 rifle now forgotten at his feet. The room spun without warning. He held the pistol in front of him, wavering, pointing at who the fuck knew and nothing all at once. He rocked back on his heels and blinked, and his vision immediately focused. His stomach still rebelled against the spinning sensation, and he breathed through the bile rising up his throat.
Bari narrowed his eyes as a shape started to form before him. Fuzzy, gray and brown colors mixed and swirled. He blinked, trying to make his eyes and mind decipher what took shape. It was huge, as big as he, but what the fuck was it? Lines of blue intermingled beneath its brown and gray spots and, as it grew clearer, he saw what he pointed his muzzle at. Adrenaline rushed him. It couldn’t be. But the image was unmistakable. He stared at the figure that stared back at him. Then, it vanished—the shadow of what he swore was himself, disappeared.
“What the hell?”
A whisper caught his attention to his left. Suddenly, he remembered where he was, then turned and lifted his SIG Sauer handgun. Tony’s eyes widened, and his hands lifted in the air, one leather-covered hand around his rifle.
“Fucking shit, Bari. It’s me.” Pushing Bari’s weapon away from him, Tony narrowed his own stormy gaze at Bari. “You tight, man?”
Bari clamped his jaw shut, not really sure how to answer.
Tony’s lips thinned, then he glanced over his shoulder and tossed his head back. “Let’s get moving.”
Tony nodded down another dark hallway. Bari shook his head, clearing it of the fear bubbling inside of him. His stomach gurgled and he swallowed, forcing the still rising bile down. Something was off, something he couldn’t quite grasp. He felt as if he had walked into a dream—ventured into a dark tunnel. But he knew better, knew that the sun shined high and bright—hot as hell, outside.
The house was filthy, filled with dilapidated couches and mounds of trash and bottles. It couldn’t have been occupied for long. Hell, the place didn’t even look livable for New York City rats. His task set on what lay ahead. Bari worked slow but efficiently cleared each room he passed. In his ear, he heard Mike and Tyler mark their rooms, bringing the four of them together once again as the halls connected. One room remained, its door closed.
They stacked up, lined up as they had outside, their weapons trained on the door, then busted inside. Bari scanned the room as he led the way, expectant and ready.
They were met with nothing. Not one damn person. Whoever had run into this house seemed to have just disappeared into thin air. Cursing, Bari dropped his guard, lowered his weapon, and paced the room. His mind scrambled over the reports they’d studied, trying to recall every detail and feeling as if he had forgotten something. All eyes of the team were on him, waiting for a decision.
With a frustrated growl, he ripped open the front of his vest and breathed deep, letting air fill his tight chest. A bunker was supposed to be here, somewhere, but they had seen no evidence of it. It was like they’d been set up to clear an empty house. None of it made a damn lick of sense.
“Shit, we should have found something here. Where in the fuck did they go?” His team answered with silence. Shaking his head, he pushed his helmet off and scrubbed a hand through his hair.
Mike pulled a piece of gum from his pocket, unwrapped and shoved it in his mouth. The sound of his chewing snapped through the room. “Yeah, Bari, this looks like a dead-end. Doesn’t make any sense.”
Grabbing his pack of smokes from his own pocket, Bari popped a cigarette in his mouth and lit it.
Needing to get some answers, Bari stepped around Tony. Adrenaline still rushed inside of him, his skin itchy with unused energy. He moved back down the hall and into the living area.
He glanced up. And time froze.
He would later tell himself he could have been faster, or ducked down. But Mike, a father with a six-year-old daughter back home, had followed behind him. So he didn’t move. Instead, he froze as the gunman stepped out from behind a door. Mike must have missed it. Fear stole up the back of his neck, the sensation reminiscent of a winding serpent. The gunman lifted his rifle. Low shouts rang out around Bari. Seconds ticked by like molasses dripping. Bari closed his eyes and braced for the pain, understanding he might not make it out alive. A shot rang out, the sound echoing through the walls. Pain exploded in his chest, his body. The cigarette he lit earlier dropped from his mouth, fell to the floor. He raised his eyes, meeting the gunman’s stare from across the room. Death sat in the man’s blank gaze, reflecting darkness, emptiness.
Bari felt consciousness slipping away. Funny how some people claim your life flashes before your eyes when you face death. Because the only thing that flashed before Bari’s was the life he never had and the woman who would’ve been in it: Mackenzie Walters.
Works by D.C. Stone
Feral Craving – Evernight Publishing
High Scandal – Evernight Publishing
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Smashwords – http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/280902