Saturday, October 22, 2016

She's so grateful to me for letting her cling to the hope she can change me

“Not sure you can drive it?” said Uncle Shmeel. “Just try, what’s the worse that can happen?”
An answer wasn’t expected, so I did not waste time looking for one. Instead I asked, “Are you sure?”
“Sure I’m sure!”
“Can you afford it?” 
“No,” he said, “but how could I say no to such a fine vehicle? I got it as a birthday gift. Pearl is grateful, so grateful to me for letting her cling to the hope that she can change me, despite all evidence to the contrary. She knows how to treat someone like me, someone who appreciates the more elegant things in life.”
“You,” I said, “are a lucky man.” 
To which he shrugged. “She’s a patient woman.” 
Out of his pocket came the car keys, jingling. 
“Here,” he said. “You’re going to have great fun driving her. She’s such a beauty!”
“You mean, Pearl?”
“No! The car.”
“That,” I said, “was my second guess.”
“She’s sitting there idly,” he said, pointing farther ahead, across the intersection. “There in the driveway, see? And she’s doing nothing but trying to tempt me morning, noon, and night to take her out for a spin, which is the first thing I’ll do as soon as I get my driving license.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“I keep failing the damn test.”
We turned the corner and there she was, looking quite substantial in her wide, matronly body, radiating heat in the mid-morning sun. She was graced by the ample roundness of the front and rear fenders, which were shaped as puffed-out cheeks. The grille was a three-part affair with a tall center that nosed its way down in-between twin nostrils, low down on the fenders. I imagined that she knew I was coming for her.
As I turned the key in the ignition I saw Uncle Shmeel in the rear view mirror, taking the clarinet out of its case and putting it to his lips. Then, growing smaller and smaller as I drove away to Natasha, he could still be heard across the distance, blowing a tune for me. One note after another rose trembling in the air, awakening a mood, a joy turned into something inexplicable, into sadness, over which I murmured, “I don't need a song to prove that I'm in such a lowdown groove.”

Lenny in The Music of Us (narrated by Don Warrick)

Uncle Shmeel will always remain a bachelor, and it is up to his girlfriend, Pearl, to realize that she would never change him, in spite of the gifts she keeps giving him... 

Don Warrick, the narrator of the audiobook edition, told me that he has an 'Uncle Shmeel' in him. Indeed, to listen to his voice I would never deny it!

 Love reading? Get this series 

Volume III: The Music of Us
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"Her ability to create a dreamlike atmosphere within her tale is spellbinding. She touches my soul with her words." 
Dii, Top 500 Reviewer

Friday, October 21, 2016

Flows Like Silk

I am thrilled to find this review of my romance novel, The Music of Us:

on October 20, 2016
If you've ever read anything by Uvi Poznansky before now, you'd be familiar with her wisdom and often precise insight. If not, you will learn that this author has a mesmerizing talent in both her novels, blogs, interviews and articles, for observing the intricacies of life and human motivation and is able to deliver these in the most gripping of ways. The Music of Us (Still Life with Memories Book 3) is no exception. I found this to be a beautiful masterpiece of chapters, which draws the reader into a tapestry of history, war, love and a new understanding of the human spirit. For those who have not read books 1 & 2, I would recommend doing so, but if you've stumbled upon The Music of Us first, it will be of no consequence. This read, with its fascinating array of historical factors, music, art and a detailed view of Alzheimer, is so enthralling in its detail that it will more than satisfy. Yet, it isn't just Poznansky's devotion and captivating observation that is a thrilling experience, it is likewise her unique artistry of words. She captures the reader with flowing beauty. I felt the life and atmosphere of the 1940's, and was so absorbed in the story, I likewise felt a yearning for a time I never knew. This novel will truly move you, take you into Uvi's realm. Her words unfurl like silk and touch the reader on a deep level. Highly, highly recommended.

Wednesday, October 19, 2016

Let me introduce you to my author friends

My author friends have joined forces with me!
We bring you amazing stories
Narrated by great voice actors
just in time for Thanksgiving. 
Click the profile image or the name of each one of us 
to learn about our work
We invite you to a three days of storytelling and gifts. 
Come listen to voice clips from our audiobooks 
You may win one of them!

Go to
A Time for Giving
And click 'Going'

"I paint with my pen, and write with my paintbrush."

"Author of thrillers exploring crime, conspiracy and duplicity."

Bestselling author of novels from historical to fantastical.

"Mystery, Romance, and YA featuring Characters at a Crossroads."

"Addictive, award-winning fiction. You'll fall in love with the characters and love to hate the villains.”

Multi-genre, multi-language, multi-profession and fearlessly going wherever the next book takes me.


"What would you do if you could see other people's dreams?"

Writing Dreams

Roller coaster rides of twists and turns.

“Sharing stories about love, secrets and the messiness of life.”

Author of intense thrillers that might make your house messy and dinner late!"

DV Berkom Books; Where murder and mayhem meet the page.”

I like to venture out of my comfort zone, and that is why writing is like air to me.

Writing is fun because over & over again, I fall 
in love with my characters!

Monday, October 17, 2016

Spoil me with your gift

Before I can go back to my writing, my other wife, Ahinoam of Jezreel, leans over my desk with her newborn baby. With motherly pride she bounces him this way and that in her arms. 
“You know me,” she says. “Unlike that other wife of yours I’m modest, much too modest to ask anything for myself.”
“Thank goodness,” say I, with a sigh of relief.
“But then again, what about your son, Amnon?”
“What about him?”
“He’s your first born, dear, the fruit of your loins,” she says, with a sudden blush.
“I suppose he is,” say I. “So?”
Ahinoam puts Amnon in my arms, wanting me to coo at him. “I don’t want to put any ideas in your head,” she says, “but—”
“Then, don’t!”
“But, but won’t he look adorable, and ever so princely, in a cute little purplish suit?”
“I’m too busy for chitchat, don’t you see?” I tell her, trying to subdue the tone of complaint in my voice. 
“And,” I go on to say, “adorable as he may be, I’m not going to squander my hard earned booty, and on top of it let tens of thousands of sea snails be crushed into extinction, just for a trifle, for a baby suit, which he’ll soon outgrow.”
“That would be such a waste,” says Abigail, nudging Ahinoam, ever so gently, away from me. “On the other hand, if you’d find it in your heart to buy your servant a new gown, I promise: I’m never going to outgrow it!”
“Oh darling,” says Ahinoam, under her breath. “It would be quite a challenge to get any bigger than you already are.” 
Which Abigail pretends not to hear. Batting her eyelashes, she blows a little kiss in my direction and says, “The expense is well worth it, my lord. Really, it’s just like saving money.”
Meanwhile, my new bride, Maacha, elbows her way between both of them. “Splurging is something I truly appreciate,” she says, “but why would you do it for simple women, women who don’t have a drop of royal blood flowing in their veins? They’re commoners. I’m not!”
To which I say, “I have nothing against commoners. I’m one of them.”
Abigail smiles. “Thank you, my lord.”
At that, Maacha stamps her foot. “Did you hear that? She admits being a maid. I’m a princess!”
And Ahinoam jeers at her, “Who cares? You’re not even one of us, are you?”
“Enough already,” say I. “Take leave of me, all of you.”
Instead, Maacha makes her way into my arms and from here, she hisses at the other two, long and hard, in a manner that is questionably regal.
To placate her I try murmuring sweet nothings in her ear. “Your lips drop sweetness as the honeycomb, my bride, milk and honey are under your tongue. The fragrance of your garments is like the fragrance of Lebanon.”
“Forget milk and honey,” she bristles at me. “And forgive me for saying so, I don’t care much for poetry, either.”
“Really? You don’t? That,” I say, “is a problem. Any wife of mine must appreciate the finer things in life—”
“What I really need right now is one thing,” says Maacha. “A purple veil for the upcoming wedding. I want to look mysterious.”
I hesitate to refuse her, so she presses on. “Need I say the obvious? By marrying me, you’re about to gain an important political ally. My father, the honorable king Talmai of Geshur, will be ready to attack your enemies from their back when you face them in battle.”
“My enemies,” say I, “are my brethren.”
“Even so. Ours is a union of mutually calculated benefits. You give, I take.”
“Is that how it works?”
“It is,” she replies. “So why not treat me in the manner to which I’m accustomed? Spoil me, David, with your gifts, your little tokens of luxury.”
I shake my head in dismay. “Why, no! I’m not going to ask for your father’s help to spill the blood of my brethren, just so you can dye your veil purple.” 
“Soldiers are expendable,” says Maacha, in a perfectly calm voice. “Not so us women.”
“My lord,” says Abigail, “if you don’t treat us with proper care, we may start suspecting that the rumors are true.”
Noting that the three of them are exchanging glances I take a step back. “Rumors?” 
“Dear,” says Ahinoam, “are you cheating on us?”
“Who, me?”
“Tell us the truth,” she demands. “Are you having an affair? Tongues are wagging all over town, about those two new girls next door, Abital and Eglah.”
So what choice do I have but to swear, “In heaven’s name, what are you suggesting?”
“I’m not suggesting,” says she. “I’m just saying.”
“I would never betray my wives!” 
“Wouldn't you, dear?”
I clap my hand over my heart, most earnestly, and in an offended tone I say, “Of course not! Which is why I’ve already proposed to both of them.”
“I see,” says Maacha. 
Abigail giggles. “I can just imagine, my lord, what words you used.”
“Yeah,” says Ahinoam, and with a hint of mockery in her tone she quotes the line I once whispered in her ear, and in the ear of any other girl I knew, “Your eyes behind your veil are doves. Your hair is like a flock of goats, descending from the hills of Gilead.”
Taking a cue from her, Abigail goes on to quote my next line, “Your lips are like a scarlet ribbon. Your mouth is lovely. Your temples behind your veil are like the halves of a pomegranate.”
And Maacha says, “I don’t really care for all that agricultural talk. A purple veil is what I want. Give it to me and then, who cares? You can describe me as any kind of fruit you wish.” 

★ Love giving gifts? Give The David Chronicles 

The complete trilogy:
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Volume I: Rise to Power
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Volume III: The Edge of Revolt
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"Written with the artistic grace that is her signature style. She writes with a calm, steady hand that plucks the strings of her tale with lyrical precision that leaves the reader deeply entrenched in her words long after the last page." 
-Dii, Top 500 reviewer

Sunday, October 16, 2016

I find myself faced with the greatest surprise of my life

Tonight, the night of my wedding, I find myself faced with the greatest surprise of my life. It makes me ashamed for what I have said about my bride, because in her chamber she prepared the loveliest, most thoughtful offering for me.
I am speechless, standing here before this beauty. With trembling hands I brush along the sweeping curve of the neck, which soars over my head. I stroke it gently, feeling my way down to the knee. Taking the bend I glide along the slope of the body, which is hollow, because this is where sound resonates, where it is projected inward and outward when a string is plucked. 
It is a large, floor standing harp. Its frame is constructed of some fine, solid timber, with fine grain, the likes of which I have never seen before. The column supporting the neck is delicately carved with decorations.
I am awe struck. Such grace! Such a magical instrument! 
Inspired, I think, by the archer’s bow, it transforms the shriek of arrows, the clash of armies, the cries of war... It softens them, turns them into notes, into harmony.
I pluck a pair of silk strings, and music—oh, heavenly music!—fills the chamber. More startling than anything I could produce on my old lyre, this sound is divine. It creates a new universe in my mind, suffused with glory... For a brief moment, all that has been happening lately in my life fades away, melding into the background, into darkness. 
And in that brief moment I wonder... Where am I? Where are my enemies? I listen for the screams of the victims as I wield my sword over their heads. I take note of the hush, the deathly silence sprawling behind me as I charge forward, stepping over the corpses to do God’s work. 
I am overcome. I am in tears.
“You like?” asks Michal.
I nod my head, Yes.
She stands in the midst of her maids, waiting for them to remove the jeweled coronet from her hair, which is arranged in a towering bun, fancier than any hair style I have ever seen on her before. How would she lie down in bed with it? How would she manage to fall asleep? I may understand the sacrifice women make for their looks, but not for this tightly knit bun. 
A long, frizzy wisp of hair flies out of it, which she quickly tucks back. The maids plait it into place again. Again, she is proper.
My bride glances at me. “Want to play?”
I shake my head, No.
In a blink, blush rises up her chin, her ears. To hide it from me, she turns her head away. Hanging from her earlobe is a large, ornamented chandelier earring, which the maids are struggling to remove. 
Then she passes quickly by me, with a tinkling of her gold anklet marking each footfall. She stops by a small window at the far end of the chamber. It overlooks the distant vineyards, the palace gardens, and the path leading, with twists and turns, into the throne room.
“I meant,” she says from there, “want to play music?”

David in Rise to Power

★ Love giving gifts? Give The David Chronicles 

The complete trilogy:
The David Chronicles (Boxed Set) 
EbookKindle  Apple  Nook  Kobo  Smashwords

Volume I: Rise to Power
EbookKindle  Nook  Apple ★ Kobo  Smashwords
PaperbackAmazon ★ Barnes&Noble
AudiobookiTunes ★ Amazon  Audible

Volume II: A Peek at Bathsheba
EbookKindle  Nook  Apple  Kobo  Smashwords
PaperbackAmazon  Barnes&Noble
AudiobookiTunes ★ Amazon ★ Audible

Volume III: The Edge of Revolt
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Paperback Amazon  Barnes&Noble

"Her ability to capture character and emotion is nothing short of literary excellence, and the modern flair really only adds to that, allowing for a more engaging voice and style."
-Book Crazy, Top 1000 Reviewer