Stevie Woods:author of gay romantic fiction

June 17, 2015

50% off historical novel: Stone by Stone!

Filed under: publisher,writing — Stevie Woods @ 3:30 pm
Tags: , , , , ,

StoneByStone_med

My publisher, Amber Quill Press, is having a 50% sale off all gay historical ebooks, which includes my Tudor set novel, Stone by Stone. The sale starts today and lasts until Friday, 19th June, and you can get my book for only $3.50 instead of the usual price of $7.00.

http://www.amberquill.com/store/p/1479-Stone-By-Stone.aspx

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February 11, 2015

50% Sale — All Stevie Woods eBooks from Amber Allure

Starting today and lasting until 17th February, all my ebooks – novels and novellas – are on sale from my publishers website! Whether you like contemporary or fantasy, science fiction or historical, there’s bound to be something you’d enjoy. Take a look:

50% Overall Discount Sale — All Stevie Woods E-Books

http://www.amberquill.com/store/m/210-Stevie-Woods.aspx

AmberAllureBannerMed

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October 17, 2014

Amazon globalized links!

Amazonkindle-logoI discovered a way to post globalized links on my website for the purchase of my books from Amazon. In other words, when you want to purchase my novels from Amazon, from wherever you are in the world, when you click the Amazon Kindle link on my website you will transferred to your nearest Amazon site!

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May 11, 2014

New excerpt from BEYOND THE VEIL!

Filed under: writing — imagine647 @ 3:52 pm
Tags: , , , , , , ,

I thought it was time I started posting some more excerpts from my numerous releases and what better place to start than with the first novel I had published, the historical novel, BEYOND THE VEIL.

beyondtheveilsm2As he stood contemplating how very tiny he was in the scheme of things, David heard yet another sound but this was so close and it seemed to be continuing. He frowned, trying to place it and it came again, almost a moan, yet not quite. He thought he could detect a word, the Arabic word for ‘more’. As he mulled that over the sound came again, long drawn out as the words were moaned again, and it came from the garden door to Robert’s room behind him.

Unable to stop himself, David edged near the open door, standing just to one side where he could see but not be seen. He felt guilty at spying on his host, but he had to know who Robert was with. Did he have one of the female servants in his room…no, wait, it was not women he liked, was it?

Ignoring his unease at what he was doing, he peered in and even though he half-expected it, it still proved a distinct shock. A very naked Robert was indeed not alone, he was with a young male and he was moving languorously over him, their slick skin sliding over each other. The young man, who had served David his tea that very afternoon, was gripping Robert’s back and moaning continuously, begging Robert for more, over and over, as Robert pounded into him. It was one thing to know that Robert liked being with men, another thing entirely to actually see it.

A feeling David could not name slammed into him and he gripped his suddenly rebellious stomach and stumbled back to his own room.

Leaning against his own now closed garden door, David took a few deep breaths to calm his swiftly beating heart. The image of Robert, naked and writhing against the young Arab, and of the man’s hands gripping Robert’s strong back tightly, was seared onto his inner eyelids.

David was surprised to note he was aroused, as much affected by the eroticism of what he had just witnessed as shocked by it. But, as he calmed himself enough to be able to seriously consider what he had seen, he recognized the emotion flowing through him was not shock at all, it was lust with a healthy dose of jealousy. David’s imagination placed himself on Robert’s bed and wondered what it would feel like to have Robert sliding over him, what sensations would bombard him if he felt Robert’s hands gliding over his skin…oh God, what was he thinking? Robert had been with someone else.

The truth of that hit him hard. Robert had another man in his bed and only recently he had made overtures to David and for a second he was angry. Until he realized that Robert had not intended to tell him; David had dragged the confession out of him. He shook his head. What was he thinking anyway? Robert was all man; he had his needs just like any other man so why the hell had he assumed he would be celibate? The images slid through his mind again and he felt very hot. He threw open his garden door again and breathed in the cool night air.

David moved back to his bed trying to finally get some sleep but the images kept playing through his mind and before long the young Arab was no longer in the picture, it was David who Robert caressed, David who he kissed as he slowly moved against him.

http://www.phaze.com/book.php?title=Beyond+The+Veil

Also available from Amazon, All Romance eBook and Smashwords

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March 9, 2014

Apology for lapse in blogging – Brand new excerpt!

Filed under: writing — imagine647 @ 11:15 pm
Tags: , , , , , ,

quill2It was something of a shock to realize that it’s been four weeks since I last posted on my blog! I never was one of those folk who blogged regularly but these last few months posting on my blog has become absurdly random. I would like to be able to post something new and exciting but at the moment I don’t have anything suitable. Instead I thought I’d give you an excerpt from something I wrote a while ago but never quite finished: it’s part of a sequel to my historical novella, Smoke Screen, and I never even got as far as deciding on a title, though one idea I quite liked was…

Smoke Screen - Stevie Woods2x3Drifting Smoke

Richard’s lip curled with distaste.  “I was the one robbed, expected to pay for your paramour to live in luxury.  Your brother lived off me for over a year, be grateful I did not demand the money back.  He would be in debtor’s prison instead of using some other unsuspecting husband to pay his way.”

“That is a lie!  You know Peter is not like that.”  Katerina stopped, taking deep breaths to calm herself.  “He loved me, he still does, wherever he is now.” 

Listening to the exchange, Julian wondered if Katerina really knew exactly where Peter was.  After their confrontation last year, when Katerina threatened to expose Julian’s burgeoning relationship with Richard and her husband challenged her liaison with her so-called brother, Peter had retreated with much less fuss and recrimination than either man had expected. 

Katerina too, after her first outburst, had accepted Richard’s conditions much more easily than he believed possible.  The fact that Richard and his wife each had something to hold over the other in the censorious society of London’s upper echelon, made each dangerous to the other and Julian had been on the lookout from some further threat or retaliation from Katerina, but it had never materialized.  And the quiet acquiescence of her Russian lover, Peter, in quitting the house that Richard had provided had been unforeseen.   Richard admitted to Julian later that he had been prepared to resort to bargaining to protect their deadly secret.  The only explanation they could think of was that it was more important to Katerina to keep the lifestyle she craved, even at the cost of her lover it appeared. 

No, Julian would not have been surprised if Katerina knew exactly where Peter was.

Mirroring Julian’s thoughts, Richard barked a laugh, “I am supposed to believe you don’t know where he is?  Come, Katerina, I know you better than that.  I wish I didn’t believe how duplicitous you are but…”

“Me?” she interrupted, incredulous.  “You say that to me with your lover in the room with us – your… what is the word?”

Richard stepped closer to his wife.  “I will not allow you to insult Julian.  I have made it clear before, your disagreement is with me.  Julian does not concern you.”

“I wish that were the case,” she said quietly, staring at Julian directly for the first time.  The look in her eyes did not equate to the tone of her voice and Julian felt distinctly uncomfortable.

“Oh, please,” Richard declared.  “Don’t pretend to be the injured party here, you are not.  You married me because you recognised I could introduce you into the type of society you craved, while at the same time using my funds to keep your lover in the lap of luxury.  Our marriage was never more than a sham.”

“And it meant more to you?  You used me as much for…for scenery as I did.  A way to hide your real proclivities as a Sodomite!”

Richard strode across the room to open the library door.  In an icy voice, he announced, “I will leave for the country tomorrow, Katerina.  I am sure you will enjoy yourself sampling the best that London society can offer while I am away.”

Head high and back straight, Katerina swept past him and out into the hallway without another word.

“Well that was unpleasant,” Richard said, leaning against the library door, ensuring it stayed closed.  “Come, take the sour taste from my mouth,” he added, a hand held out to Julian.

“Chard,” Julian muttered, shaking his head, but still moving towards him.  Richard gathered him in his strong arms, held him close as he searched out Julian’s oh-so-willing mouth.  The kiss was both tender and demanding as Julian opened up to let Richard plunder his mouth, both men sighing at the contact.

If you want to check out Smoke Screen, go here:  Amazon   ARe Books  Smashword

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February 15, 2014

New excerpt from gay historical novel, Stone by Stone!

I thought it was about time I posted another excerpt from my Tudor historical novel, STONE BY STONE – a story about a monk and the man sent by Henry VIII to close his monastery:

StoneByStone_medWhen they had left the refectory and were out of earshot of the other monks and the servants, Andrew asked, “Do you really want to show me the books?”

Mark looked over his shoulder, smiled and answered, “Among other things. There are some remarkable books in the abbey library, Master Cheyne.”

“Won’t you please call me Andrew?”

Mark inclined his head. “I would be honoured.”

“So I will see these remarkable books and some of your handiwork?”

“Yes.”

Andrew sighed. He ought to have known he was reading more into Brother Mark’s interest than was reasonable.

Andrew realized his sigh had been louder than he thought when Mark slowed and turned to him. “You do not wish to visit the library?”

“Yes, of course. I would very much like to see the books and I’m very interested in what you are working on.” Andrew smiled and was unaccountably relieved when Mark smiled back.

It was only a minute or so later when Mark halted at a pair of heavy wooden doors. Grasping the handles, he pushed them open. A dim flickering light, which Andrew realized came from a tall, lit candle in a wall sconce, greeted them. Mark picked it up, lit a branch of candles from it and then led the way inside. Andrew was aware the abbey library had some old rare books and they also had some very new ones. Tavistock Abbey was one of the very first places in England to have a printing press and some of the newly produced bibles in English were being created here.

Like most everyone else, Andrew was very impressed with the idea of books being printed. It was remarkable how swiftly a new book could be ready when compared to the old method whereby each book had needed to be laboriously copied out by hand. However, neither could he deny the beautiful work produced by generations of monks. Andrew had a love of such things—he was proud to have collected a small number of books himself—and it was very hard to think many of the books he admired for their aesthetic beauty would have to be destroyed because of their religious content. He knew he would have to steel himself to such things, however, because he did truly believe that the Catholic bible in Latin was anathema and the people would be better served with an honest, open bible in English.

Brother Mark led the way through the shadowy passageways towards the large windows in the opposite wall. They passed many shelves of books of all shapes and sizes, some so large it was difficult to believe a man could lift them, let alone be able to read them. The room was redolent with the smell of leather and parchment. As they moved deeper inside, Andrew saw different shaped shelves with narrower, deeper openings and he realized they were filled with scrolls, some of which were very ancient and obviously made of parchment, though there were also some examples on paper, which had been produced during the last couple of centuries.

Brother Mark had obviously followed his gaze. “They are remarkable, aren’t they? Our librarian is very proud of the collection.”

Andrew met his gaze. “They will have to be inspected. Sir Richard needs a complete record of everything here.”

Mark nodded. “I know, and I fear what may happen in the future,” he said sadly. “I try to cling to the belief God has purpose in everything he does, but this is difficult.”

For the first time, Andrew wished he didn’t have to be part of this. Part of destroying this man’s private little world—until his own thoughts registered and he acknowledged it was exactly this kind of existence that was at the heart of the problem. These men, and many hundreds like them, existed apart from the reality of life. Supported and served by those whose lives were much more difficult and all too real. Brother Mark may be an honest, sincere monk, but Andrew knew there were many others who lived a life of luxury with no regard for their fellow men. Where was their God in that?

“What did you want to show me, Mark?” Andrew asked, aware his tone of voice was much different from earlier, hard and cold.

Mark glanced at him, a slight frown marring his features. “Why are you angry with me, Andrew? Have I offended you? Please, I had no intent.”

Andrew sighed. “I’m not angry with you, Mark. I allowed myself to forget, for a short time, that we are on opposing sides. I should not have done so. It does neither of us any good.”

“Andrew,” Mark said, his tone soft, beguiling, “we have differing points of view on more than one subject, but surely it doesn’t have to make us enemies. I have already seen you have a taste for the aesthetic, as do I. I did not mistake your pleasure at the stonework or your interest in these books. That is at least two points of view we share. Can we not just share the similarities and try to forget our differences?” Mark stepped closer. “I felt an affinity with you when we met. This is rare for me, and I don’t wish to lose it if I can help it. Will you allow me to be your friend, Andrew?”

Andrew stared at this man, who he now acknowledged could so easily mean more to him than Mark could possibly know, or accept if he did know. Mark might be talking about friendship, but Andrew’s reaction was much more personal, as his stiffening cock could attest. But like Mark, it was rare for Andrew to feel such an acceptance of another being with such speed or ease. He knew he likely wanted more than was possible, but he was willing to take whatever he could have. He could take himself to task later.

“Yes, Mark,” Andrew said. “I would like that.”

end of excerpt

Available in Ebook and Print from Amber Quill Press:
http://www.amberquill.com/AmberAllure/StoneByStone.html

Also from Amazon and all good booksellers

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July 15, 2013

New excerpt from historical novel, CONFLICT!

conflict200x300Here’s a new excerpt from my historical novel, CONFLICT, sequel to CANE, which takes the story into the Civil War.

BLURB:

Two men, one war. Can love survive when each takes a different side?

Leaving his lover behind to support the abolitionist cause, Piet Van Leyden finds himself leading one of the first all-black Union troops into the heart of battle. Reuniting with free slave and former love Joss brings some comfort, but will his presence tempt Piet into forgetting the love waiting for him at home?

Sebastian Cane wonders how he’s able to go on without Piet by his side. When a series of unfortunate events lands him a prisoner of the Union, Seb knows he must rely on his wits and his love for Piet to survive…and get home to him.

EXCERPT:

It was cold in the tent; damn it, was cold nearly all the time. It seemed forever since Pieter had actually been inside a brick building. He pulled the blanket off his cot and wrapped it around him. Pieter could hardly remember the last time he had felt really comfortable and cozy. Then he suddenly remembered one warm day, sitting on a veranda eating a picnic lunch. It had only been a couple of days after he’d arrived at Morning Star. Sebastian had been showing him around the vast plantation when they took a rest and ate. They’d sat comfortably on the wooden veranda of the old Blue Bayou plantation house, sharing a basket of food, while his new employer had told him of the history of his family and the plantation. Even then, Pieter had known he was in love with the man.

Smiling, Pieter knew it was the emotion inside that had made him feel warm that day as much as the sun beating down on them. That feeling was still there, deep inside, and as he allowed the sense memory to flow over him, Pieter’s heart beat faster. His cock filled as he imagined Sebastian’s lips on his, and his hands caressing his body. It had been so long and he missed his lover terribly.

Sighing, Pieter couldn’t deny that he regretted leaving his lover back in Louisiana, but he was honest enough to admit that he could never have stayed there in the circumstances. He wished every day that Seb could have come with him, but as much as he wished it could be otherwise, he couldn’t blame Sebastian for clinging to the only life he knew.

Belatedly, he realized that yet again his hand was in his pocket and he was running the small silver button between his fingers. He stopped the movement, grasping the button tightly and pulling it free. It rested in the palm of his hand, glinting slightly in the flickering candlelight. It was all he had of Sebastian with him and it had long been a kind of talisman. A constant reminder of the man he loved, the man he missed so very much.

Pieter could still see the look in Sebastian’s eyes as he dropped the button into his hand when he left to travel north. He had never forgotten the trust Sebastian placed in him, knowing that he would come home some day. To Pieter, wherever Sebastian was, that was home.

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July 14, 2013

CANE, a new excerpt from my historical romance

CanePhaze(200x300)I thought it was past time I posted a new excerpt from my popular historical novel, CANE:

BLURB:
Privileged young Pieter may have grown up on a sugar cane plantation, but that doesn’t mean he agrees with the way his father runs things. He falls in love with Joss, one of his father’s slaves, and their affair sets off a chain of events that is destined to tear them apart.
When Pieter’s father dies, he returns home hoping to find Joss. It’s too late for their love, but maybe it’s not too late for Pieter to find happiness. As he makes his way to America, Pieter realizes old conflicts still rage, and even as he finds a new love, danger stalks his every move. Can Pieter learn to overcome the hate and fear that threaten to tear his world apart?

Joss was working hard with the other field hands, trimming the young cane plants. He had just straightened up, stretching to ease the ache in his back, when he heard Pieter call to him.

EXCERPT:

“Joss, I need some help.”

“Yes, sir,” he replied, hurrying to do his master’s bidding.

Not that Joss really thought of Pieter as his master, though he had to behave as if he did. Joss never called him master, the way some of the other slaves did. Pieter did not ask it, but the slaves were used to giving the title to the older Van Leyden and automatically used it with Pieter. To Joss, Pieter was his boyhood friend, his mentor…his lover. Joss knew he was living in a kind of limbo, knowing that his time with Pieter was temporary. Joss hated that because he really loved Pieter. He had thought at first the feelings had just been the love of a surrogate brother, but when Pieter had embraced him on his return from abroad, it wasn’t brotherly feelings that stirred deep within him.

It had been a surprise to find that Pieter had such feelings toward him, too. Joss could still remember that first time Pieter touched him. Even though he had wanted his friend’s touch, Joss had been afraid that Pieter would only be using him. The prospect of the Master exercising what many slave owners considered to be their right was a fear his sister, and the other pretty young slaves lived with constantly. Boys and men were less susceptible, and though such couplings were rare and shrouded in secrecy, they did happen.

So, when Pieter touched him with such tender reverence, Joss had been shocked. He learned then that he hadn’t been mistaken about the friend from his youth; Pieter was showing that he cared, that it wasn’t just the use of a convenient body he wanted from Joss. Pieter was seeking an emotional connection and Joss was more than happy to give it to him.

They had enjoyed each other many times since that first night almost two years ago, but Joss never forgot that first time, when he had learned that not all slave owners were the same.

He knew Pieter cared for him, loved him in a way, but also that it was not with the soul deep emotion Joss felt himself when Pieter took him, driving deep into his body. Joss didn’t know how he could sense the difference in their emotional attachment but he knew he was right. Pieter said things to him when they were having sex and Joss was sure when he spoke them aloud, Pieter believed his own words, but Joss knew that what his lover promised could never be. There was no way that he, a black slave, could ever be with a white master as anything but property to be used, a catamite. Joss had heard the word for the first time a few months back, read to him from a biblical story. He couldn’t remember which story it was, but the word he would never forget—catamite, a boy or young man kept by a sodomite. That was the reality of what Joss was, not that Pieter would ever accept it, but it was better for Joss to do so. As odd it as might sound, it was better for his peace of mind. Dreams of anything more would only destroy him. 

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June 6, 2013

New excerpt from gay historical, STONE BY STONE

StoneByStone_medHere’s a new excerpt from my gay historical novel, Stone by Stone, which is set around the dissolution of the monasteries in Tudor times:

When they had left the refectory and were out of earshot of the other monks and the servants, Andrew asked, “Do you really want to show me the books?”

Mark looked over his shoulder, smiled and answered, “Among other things. There are some remarkable books in the abbey library, Master Cheyne.”

“Won’t you please call me Andrew?”

Mark inclined his head. “I would be honoured.”

“So I will see these remarkable books and some of your handiwork?”

“Yes.”

Andrew sighed. He ought to have known he was reading more into Brother Mark’s interest than was reasonable.

Andrew realized his sigh had been louder than he thought when Mark slowed and turned to him. “You do not wish to visit the library?”

“Yes, of course. I would very much like to see the books and I’m very interested in what you are working on.” Andrew smiled and was unaccountably relieved when Mark smiled back.

It was only a minute or so later when Mark halted at a pair of heavy wooden doors. Grasping the handles, he pushed them open. A dim flickering light, which Andrew realized came from a tall, lit candle in a wall sconce, greeted them. Mark picked it up, lit a branch of candles from it and then led the way inside. Andrew was aware the abbey library had some old rare books and they also had some very new ones. Tavistock Abbey was one of the very first places in England to have a printing press and some of the newly produced bibles in English were being created here.

Like most everyone else, Andrew was very impressed with the idea of books being printed. It was remarkable how swiftly a new book could be ready when compared to the old method whereby each book had needed to be laboriously copied out by hand. However, neither could he deny the beautiful work produced by generations of monks. Andrew had a love of such things—he was proud to have collected a small number of books himself—and it was very hard to think many of the books he admired for their aesthetic beauty would have to be destroyed because of their religious content. He knew he would have to steel himself to such things, however, because he did truly believe that the Catholic bible in Latin was anathema and the people would be better served with an honest, open bible in English.

Brother Mark led the way through the shadowy passageways towards the large windows in the opposite wall. They passed many shelves of books of all shapes and sizes, some so large it was difficult to believe a man could lift them, let alone be able to read them. The room was redolent with the smell of leather and parchment. As they moved deeper inside, Andrew saw different shaped shelves with narrower, deeper openings and he realized they were filled with scrolls, some of which were very ancient and obviously made of parchment, though there were also some examples on paper, which had been produced during the last couple of centuries.

Brother Mark had obviously followed his gaze. “They are remarkable, aren’t they? Our librarian is very proud of the collection.”

Andrew met his gaze. “They will have to be inspected. Sir Richard needs a complete record of everything here.”

Mark nodded. “I know, and I fear what may happen in the future,” he said sadly. “I try to cling to the belief God has purpose in everything he does, but this is difficult.”

For the first time, Andrew wished he didn’t have to be part of this. Part of destroying this man’s private little world—until his own thoughts registered and he acknowledged it was exactly this kind of existence that was at the heart of the problem. These men, and many hundreds like them, existed apart from the reality of life. Supported and served by those whose lives were much more difficult and all too real. Brother Mark may be an honest, sincere monk, but Andrew knew there were many others who lived a life of luxury with no regard for their fellow men. Where was their God in that?

“What did you want to show me, Mark?” Andrew asked, aware his tone of voice was much different from earlier, hard and cold.

Mark glanced at him, a slight frown marring his features. “Why are you angry with me, Andrew? Have I offended you? Please, I had no intent.”

Andrew sighed. “I’m not angry with you, Mark. I allowed myself to forget, for a short time, that we are on opposing sides. I should not have done so. It does neither of us any good.”

“Andrew,” Mark said, his tone soft, beguiling, “we have differing points of view on more than one subject, but surely it doesn’t have to make us enemies. I have already seen you have a taste for the aesthetic, as do I. I did not mistake your pleasure at the stonework or your interest in these books. That is at least two points of view we share. Can we not just share the similarities and try to forget our differences?” Mark stepped closer. “I felt an affinity with you when we met. This is rare for me, and I don’t wish to lose it if I can help it. Will you allow me to be your friend, Andrew?”

Andrew stared at this man, who he now acknowledged could so easily mean more to him than Mark could possibly know, or accept if he did know. Mark might be talking about friendship, but Andrew’s reaction was much more personal, as his stiffening cock could attest. But like Mark, it was rare for Andrew to feel such an acceptance of another being with such speed or ease. He knew he likely wanted more than was possible, but he was willing to take whatever he could have. He could take himself to task later.

“Yes, Mark,” Andrew said. “I would like that.”

Available in Ebook and Print from Amber Quill Press:
http://www.amberquill.com/AmberAllure/StoneByStone.html

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March 15, 2013

Lust in Time anthology gets another wonderful review!

Lust_in_Time_Cover200x300Rob Rosen, the editor of the gay historical anthology, Lust In Time – in which I have a story called 794 A.D. – has just posted on Twitter about another review received from Book Reviews & Therapy for the anthology.

“Well. I’ve finished this anthology and I’m sad it’s over. I could have kept going. This is the best anthology I have ever read. It is well edited, in every sense of the word, the stories all well written. They may have been short but not one missed the mark.”

The reviewer commented on each story and then gave an overall comment which included the above quote:)

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