Uvi Poznansky: October 2019

We all know the story of King David but this story gives it flesh!

Short and sweet review for my historical fiction novel, The Edge of Revolt

David as King

October 25, 2019

Combining genres works splendidly

We all know the story of King David but this story gives it flesh! You can see the travails of David as he struggles with the sins of himself and his sons. From incest to rape to murder this is a modern story as well as history. It is a story well told.

Saturday, October 26, 2019

Combining genres works splendidly

Author P.S. Winn says, "If I am able to touch even one person with the writing,I will feel I have done my job. Now back to the pen, paper, coffee and chocolate!" I am grateful to find her review for my thriller, Overdose:

P.S Winn

October 26, 2019

A Terrific Read Perfect For Halloween

The author has written not only a medical thriller, but a romantic suspense. After Ash wakes from a coma, she finds the surgeon is not all he claims. Readers who like different genres will enjoy diving into this thriller. The character of Ash is believable and makes you wonder what you would do in her shoes,

Monday, October 21, 2019

Her newest release kept me glued to my seat

A great review by Kindred Spirit for Overdose:

Kindred Spirit

October 18, 2019

Ash Suspense Thrillers with a Dash of Romance

Uvi Poznansky's newest release kept me glued to my seat. Overdose, lured me in on page one then further enticed me with each page turn, immersing me into a gripping medical thriller––and looking over my shoulder as if I was only one step away from the villain. The third book in Poznansky's captivating series, this story won’t leave readers lost if they read the story first. But should they read these stories in order, they'll be rewarded and stunned at how this USA Today Bestselling Author weaves past characters into this new thrilling saga.

The writer's first person present style draws the reader into the heroine's mind as she unravels each clue. Tempted to scream out 'no, don't go there' as if Ash should heed my warning, I rode a rollercoaster with twists and turns all the way to the last page.

Though Overdose can be read in one sitting, nothing is rushed. Each richly drawn character plays a crucial part as Ash uncovers the who, why, when, and how of this delicious mystery. And the ending had me wondering how the heroine could possibly be saved in time––and by whom.

Poznansky pulls in current events and high technology in this fast-paced thriller, which gives the story even more appeal. Overdose will snag your interest, lure you in and won't let go. I look forward to the next book in the series, Ash Suspense Thrillers With A Dash of Romance. I highly recommend Overdose––especially on a cold, spooky night.

Friday, October 18, 2019

I can’t recall my own name

Growing up, I didn’t care for fairytale characters. The one I disliked the most was Sleeping Beauty. Unfortunately, now I’ve turned into one.

This may sound like vanity, so let me be more precise. I don’t know about the Beauty part, because at the moment I have no idea how I look, and even if I did, I doubt I would like it. It’s the Sleeping part that frightens me. I can’t stand the prospect of being trapped here, in this miserable state, in hopes that one day I may be saved, somehow, by a kiss.

My life—the little I know about it—is no fairytale, so what’s the point in waiting for magic? Anyway, I refuse to rely on what others do. Whenever Ma hears me say that, she clutches her breast and sighs, because she needs to baby me. I remember the softness of her hand when she runs it over my forehead. Why isn’t she here already?

I miss her, but part of me hopes that she doesn’t know I’m in trouble. Helpless is not a good look for me. Neither is confused.

With the exception of knowing that I’m in a hospital, there’s a thick fog in my brain. I can’t recall my own name, nor can I bring back the name of the man I love. But the memory of his lips on mine does quicken the heart.

Even so, the idea of waiting for him to come to my rescue sounds dumb. Doesn’t it? I’d rather snap out of this interminable slumber of my own accord. Unfortunately, doubts keep weighing me down. And not only doubts: I’m pinned down by nightmares, too.

They always start with me blacking out. Then, in a flash, shadows emerge from the haze around me and back away into it, just before I can figure out who they are. From time to time, when I take my eyes off of them, they creep in, and their breaths come alarmingly close to me.

After that comes silence. It makes me doubt I’ve heard anything in the first place.

A shriek rings in my ears. It must have been mine.

The air flutters in my throat as one shadow reaches, suddenly, for my neck. “Say you vant me,” demands a hoarse voice, in a heavy Russian accent.

His fingers squeeze my vocal cords till I can’t even cry, can’t call out for help. His eye bores into me with a malicious look as I struggle, as I fight for a breath.

At first, I explain the whole thing away as some odd hallucination, perhaps the result of morphine, or other meds that are trickling—with a slow drip, drip, drip through the plastic tube—into my veins. But meds or not, what’s the point in denying what I see?

In a blink, a ray of light slides across his temple. The white of his eye, marbled with tortuous veins, becomes incredibly vivid. The thug reaches for my scarf—the scarlet one, which I thought could be used only as a fashion accessory, nothing else. To my alarm, he stretches it across my mouth and tightens it, knotting it around the back of my neck, yanking the ends till I pass out.

I tell myself, this can’t be real. Can it? Does this moment of terror come from my imagination—or else, from memory?

I must wake up.

Can I?

★ Love Suspense? Go for the ride ★

Coma Confidential

Ash finds herself in the ER diagnosed with coma. She has no memory of what has happened to her, but what she can do--despite what everyone around her might think--is listen to the conversations of her visitors. Will she survive the power outage in the hospital and then, being kidnapped out of it?

The writing of this book is mesmerizing. From the first line, I found myself getting quiet and still, just listening to the main character's voice... The story then catapults into stunning action...
~J.A. Schneider, author of suspense and psychological thrillers

Tuesday, October 15, 2019

My Halloween Witch

Here is my Halloween Witch. I made her head and hands with a bit of clay, and built her up with red ribbon and wire. She may be fragile, some of her parts are missing, and it's your challenge to connect her into a whole!

Monday, October 14, 2019

I must move, before he lays his hand on me

Betty rises to her stiletto heels and starts to strut in his direction. “I know you want to help Ash,” she says, curling her lips into a sly smile. “You know what your best chance may be?”

I can’t believe he stays with her long enough to ask, “What?”

“You’re a software expert, aren’t you?” she asks. “Come up with a new app, one that simulates how Ash used to think. Like, an artificial brain or something. Then, find a way to implant the thing in her head. Won’t it be totally cool, if she’d be wired?”

Except, I’m about to say, it won’t be me anymore.

He grumbles, “You must be kidding.”

“Am not!”

Listening to them, my distress is mounting. There’s no time to waste. Relying on the help of others proves to be futile. I try to calm my racing heartbeat, try to figure out a way to escape, while Betty goes on doing her number on my boyfriend, which is maddening, especially because she does it in plain view.

It’s then that the first bullet whizzes by my head.

A sudden flash is followed by a burst of smoke. I can’t make sense of what’s happening, even as another bullet shrieks in the air, even as the shell meets a target close behind me. The doors of the hospital take a hit. First they crack, then explode in a shower of glass slivers, which shakes the air violently, like a Beethoven crescendo.

My first thought is that whoever fired that shot must have missed me on purpose. Then again, I may be wrong. The street lamps are off and so are the lights in the parking lot, which makes it tricky to find your aim.

Betty turns on her heels, starts to run.

Michael gasps. He must be in shock. I think one of those shards flew into his arm. Yes, he’s wounded.

I stifle a scream, reminding myself to focus on one thing: trying to spin the wheelchair around. My fingers are stiff but they do tremble, which is a good sign, because that’s motion, too.

Is it just my imagination, or did the wheels start to turn under me? I think I hear the crunch of some pebbles under them. I must move, must get away from here before Vlad arrives, before he lays his hand on me.

But already, it’s too late.

Coma Confidential

Just an outstanding grasp of the human mind when all is dark around you due to power failures and a coma. To be perfectly honest, it gave me the chills while reading...
~Serenity, TOP 50 REVIEWER

Such a sweet book!

A delightful review for my children's book Now I Am Paper:

B Nelson

Lovely!

October 12, 2019

What a lovely and wonderful book. Beautiful illustrations and a sweet story full of lessons. "Now I Am Paper (Imaginata Children's Books Book 2)” by Uvi Poznansky is another magical book. I bought the paperback of Jess and Wiggle (the first Imaginata Children's Book), which is just a treasure. After seeing these illustrations, I’ll have to do the same with this one. Such a sweet book!

Saturday, October 12, 2019

Do No Harm

Love this review by Vine Voice Reviewer, Aurora Dawn, for Overdose:

Do No Harm

October 11, 2019

Format: Kindle Edition

This story picks up pretty much where Coma Confidential left off, with Ash recovering from her coma but still suffering from unexplained headaches and feeling that something just isn't right. As her investigations progress, it becomes clear that there's A LOT that isn't right including murder, deceit and identity theft.
This book is exactly the kind of complex psycho-drama I've come to expect of Uvi Poznansky. The characters are full blown and full of contradictions and there are more plot twists than switchbacks on an Tibetan mountain side.
I loved this story and hope to see a lot more of Ash's adventures.

Friday, October 11, 2019

An Exacto knife in my trembling hand

Back in my place, I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, an Exacto knife in my trembling hand.

Why didn’t I obey Pa years ago, when he insisted that to be set in life with a promising career, I should study medicine?

Well, too late now.

With its easy-to-maneuver aluminum handle and a fine point blade, this knife is my weapon of choice for applying a precision cut. I use it quite often for my projects in school. Designed to slice through heavy-weight materials, it should go rather smoothly through my flesh.

Preparing for my little surgical feat, I sterilize the tool as best I can, by using a stiff nylon brush and a detergent with neutral PH. There is a little blemish at the edge of the blade. Rust. Try as I may, rubbing does little to remove it.

Oh well.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I know that my plan, well-intentioned as it is, is ill-conceived. You might even say it’s totally crazy. Even so, I’m determined to follow it through.

What would I give to be a fly on the wall! I’m dying to watch Dr. Patel in his office, in that big house of his in Turtle Rock, while he’s listening to everything I hear! This gadget must have cost him a fortune. So I try to be generous, try to give him his money’s worth by playing a CD, over and over again. This way, the music will cover any cry that may, by accident, escape my throat.

Somehow, I doubt Dr. Patel likes Beyoncé. She is my favorite singer. I love the defiance in the first line. I imagine it’s mine:

You can taste the dishonesty

It’s all over your breath as you pass it off so cavalier

Then, here comes that sinister note. I imagine it’s his:

My lonely ear

Pressed against the walls of your world

My headache has kicked up a notch, so I guess he’s listening right now, as we speak. Already, I feel a bit dizzy. I totter across the bathroom, drag the stool over, and plop down on it so as not to lose my balance.

Meanwhile, the gadget gives off a slight vibration. How I haven’t noticed it before is beyond me. But now that I do, the rattling consumes all my attention. I must, must, must cut this thing out. It prevents me from thinking straight.

Problem is, I can’t see the exact spot where it resides, because it’s hidden from view under my earlobe. To find it, I have to set aside the knife, finger the little bump in the middle of that scar, commit its position to memory—mainly by touch—and pick up the knife again.

This, I’m afraid, is going to be messy.

But I’m ready. Well, as ready as I’ll ever be.

Overdose