Sunday, December 4, 2016

Resting on the multitude of pillows

Between the affection, hugs and womanly discourses, Anne flourished. Not one to push herself forward, it took longer for her relax at school, but eventually a young girl living on the nearest farm approached her with friendship and they became inseparable. 
Later, they sent Christmas e-mails, but their differing lifestyles interfered, and they eventually lost touch. For a second, Anne wondered if Denise was still in Walsh Creek, or if she and her husband Marty, Clint’s one-time best friend, had moved on.
Once under the covers, snuggled between her silken sheets, and resting on the multitude of pillows she loved to pile around her; Anne let the reminiscences of the best, and worst, night of her life flood into her mind. It had been years since she’d allowed this indulgence. These remembrances always left her in tears, and wrought with pain that took weeks to shake. Therefore, she’d weaned herself off them by pure force of will. Not to mention the sleeping pills, when the persistent memories had refused to be blocked.

Excerpt from Love Me Tender by Mimi Barbour
Included in A Touch of Passion


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A lovely chat with Aaron

I'm honored to be interviewed on Aaron Paul Lazar's illustrious blog, Murder by 4, where we had a lovely chat about my new romance box set, Love in Times of War. Please check out my Interview:


Saturday, December 3, 2016

Her ultimate dream was about to come true

"Are you cold?"
His question made her aware that she'd been totally oblivious to the chilly breeze that had picked up. This was the time of year when the days were still hot and sultry with leftover summer temperatures, but the evenings cooled quickly with the early sunset.
"It's not too bad," she said, but was terribly happy when he pulled her closer, wrapping his other arm around her protectively.
"Is this better?" he murmured huskily.
"Mmmm," she said. "Much."
The only thing that could make this fantasy perfect, she mused, was to feel his lips on hers.
Just as if he'd heard her speak the words aloud, Derrick slowly... methodically... inched forward. And Anna knew without a doubt that her ultimate dream was about to come true.

Excerpt from Derrick by Donna Fasano
Included in A Touch of Passion


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Friday, December 2, 2016

The shorter is the day—the more precious each minute

And scattered here all around us—going away this way and that, across moist and dry land—are traces: footprints of things big and small. You can figure out what they might have been, by that which they have taken away, by what has gone missing, and how. 
Here, these must have been flip flops, and those over there, tennis shoes. They have come and gone, leaving behind them dents in the sand, clear, neatly arranged dents, pressed in by some rubbery bumps, within the perimeter of each sole. 
There, a barefoot child must have passed; farther out, an adult. Five toes and the ball of the foot, then again, five toes and the ball of the foot, boring round, shallow hollows, little basins, where water starts welling up now, in the wet sand. 
And here, tiny webbed feet must have hopped and landed, hopped and landed, opening sharp, three-pronged holes in the sand, where a gull has sunk in its claws. Each set of footprints is distinct. Each is stamped, you see, with its own design, each with its own sole.
And all of them seem to be traveling with a certain purpose, which is unknown to me, criss crossing each other, forging ahead towards some unclear target, pressing on steadily—but in a zigzag fashion, left, right, left, right, as far as the eye can see, until all of a sudden, a high crested wave breaks ashore, rubbing out part of their path; and thus, erasing from the surface—and soon from memory, too—that which only a minute ago was still here, could still offer some clues, and let you jot down some notes of the journey.
“I wish,” says the old man, “we would never forget this hour.”
And I think, Why, what a grand sentiment! I wish you could just be quiet.
And he says, to himself this time, “Winter is coming. The day is shorter, it seems. And the shorter it is—the more precious each minute.”

Included in Apart from Love


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"Few authors would be able to pull off the manner in which the apparent polar opposites of Ben and Anita begin to bond... but Poznansky has the visual and verbal and architectural skills to create this maze and guide us through it." 
~Grady Harp, HALL OF FAME reviewer

Thursday, December 1, 2016

Add a splash of blue winter, ’cause you I miss

It was a dark, cloudy sunrise. I rode my bike past the water tanks, which had been constructed in London some months ago to fight firebombs, past stacks of sandbags, which had been filled with earth from Knightsbridge Barracks, previously a scampering ground for terriers. In the wind, in the drizzle, through patches of fog, in-between cars, double-decker busses and horse-drawn carts, alongside street shelters and around newsstands, back and forth I went, as part of my military courier service, from the American Embassy to various governmental staff offices. 
The engine rattled under me, giving a raw, intense rhythm to the urban cacophony, composed of sounds of drivers, peddlers, shoppers, cops, and soldiers. This beat connected me to the throngs of people and at the same time, separated me. And yet, listening to it forced me to set aside my silence, my sense of loneliness, and take them all in.
Upon entering Piccadilly Circus I stopped. Surrounded by a small crowd, a street performer hailed me to come over, and then started singing:

Swirl in the air of daybreak, and mix in a kiss
Add a splash of blue winter, ’cause you I miss
Stir it together, toast a moment apart
Back into my arms is a long way to chart

Cool it with ice, throw in a lost star
Serve it bitter, to the sound of a lonely guitar
Drink it in one gulp before you set sail
Let me have a taste of a lover’s cocktail

Excerpt from Dancing with Air by Uvi Poznansky
Included in Love in Times of War


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Wednesday, November 30, 2016

A roaring fire blazed, warding off the evening chill

That night after dinner, Blake escorted Nellie to the library.
“Let’s sit, shall we?” he pointed to the settee in front of the fireplace, where a roaring fire blazed, warding off the evening chill. “Would you care for some brandy or tea perhaps?”
“Thank you, I’m fine.”
He poured himself two fingers of the golden brown liquid into a snifter and swirled it round and round in the glass. “A ritual,” he explained, “so I could get used to the flavor.”
“Not something you generally care for, I take it.”
“Can’t stand the stuff, but the men I want to do business with like it, so I’ve learned to drink it without gagging.”
She nodded.
“Now, to the letter you received from R. Edward Wallace. Your former father-in-law, I believe.”
She nodded again, not ready to speak on it.

Excerpt from Nellie by Cynthia Woolf
Included in A Touch of Passion


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Was that the watch she’d gotten him for Christmas?

Zoe, in between Brayden and Alex at the dining table, couldn’t stop sneaking glances at her husband. He was really, truly there. Shocked at first, angry and confused, as she settled into her emotions, she realized how much she’d missed him.
He didn’t eat very much, she noticed. A few slices of chicken, a roll. Salad without dressing. A small portion of the eggplant that he’d probably added to his plate to be polite. Long fingers held the knife and fork. Was that the watch she’d gotten him for Christmas? Where was his wedding ring?
She sipped her water, wishing she’d thought to pour a glass of white wine with dinner. Chocolate brown hairs on his forearm turned golden in the overhead light. She hadn’t been able to stop herself from touching his back earlier. It had felt so good but she knew that he was here for a reason he had as of yet to disclose.

Excerpt from Returning Home by the Sea by Traci Hall
Included in Love in Times of War


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