Sunday, November 30, 2014

In a moment he would reach for her hand, smiling as if nothing bad could happen

And over that threshold down there, she could somehow read the shape of the shadow. How it appeared suddenly, spilling out of nowhere, was quite beyond her, but she could tell, couldn’t she, that there was no floor. 
This time, perhaps because of starting to fall asleep, her diary seemed heavier than usual. Getting up, she brushed her fingers over it and could feel the raised spine, and rough spots where the gold lettering spelling ‘Love’ had peeled off. 
If she were to take it with her, the book might slip. It might drop from her hands. It might then continue dropping, farther and farther away from view through the empty elevator shaft, releasing letter after letter into the air, filling its darkness with white feathery pages, rustling, whispering what she had written such a long time ago, what had been clamped—until now—between the front and back covers, as if it were a flower meant for drying.
Her longing for him.
She wiped her face, and now her sight cleared. With every step toward that door, she could see his eyes shining brighter and brighter across from her, as if David—yes, as if he were right there, hanging in midair, framed by the hollow. By what twist of imagination did this happen? How did this outline of his jaw suddenly appear, how did it open now, as if he was just about to call her name?
In a moment, she thought, he would reach for her hand, smiling as if nothing bad could happen

★ Love Horror? Treat yourself to a thrill 



Paperback  Hardcover 


"A collection of four stories, each one an interesting tale of mystery and intrigue"
 -Dennis Waller, Top 500 Reviewer

Here is what to expect, coming home

The days are short, the sun a spark
So faint the shine at the edge of dark
You shiver in the grip of ice
Home seems far, as under glass.

The road is slippery, your sleigh may slide
Come to the door, it’ll open wide
Inside it’s warm by the fire
And our stories may inspire 

A memory from the distant past
That lets you feel at home, at last

Hi everyone! 
Can't wait for the Come HOME event to begin 
Can you?
Here is what to expect:

Friday, December 5 at 4:00pm PST - Sunday, December 7, 2014 3:00 PST 
Come meet us 
We invite you to listen to our stories
Have you joined the event? 
If so, your name is already written in our holiday cards
Want to increase your chances to win our audiobooks? 
Then like, comment, or share the stories that catch your fancy

Grand Finale Sunday, December 7, 2014 4:00 PDT
We will open our holiday cards
And announce who won our audiobooks

Saturday, November 29, 2014

Cover reveal for The Edge of Revolt

The cover art for my new novel, The Edge of Revoltis my watercolor painting inspired by a quick charcoal sketch which I have drawn while listening to music--several pieces of music, each with a different rhythm and mood, reflected here. I imagined that these rhythms are taking me to a magical landscape, which I am yet to explore, and that the edges describe rocks and mountains faraway, and sweeping waves underfoot. Here and there I imagined a figure of a traveler who, like me, is on a journey--but I could not tell if his journey is one of giving chase or one of escape. The more I gaze upon this view, the more detail I find in its edges, which are open to interpretation.

I drew it while in the process of writing about David, reflecting upon the conflicting emotions filling his heart during his escape from his beloved son, Absalom, who has mounted a revolt to topple him from the throne. While the landscape of his journey is that of the mountains of Judea and the Jordan river, the landscape here is abstract, because it reflects the journey you may take, given a great turmoil in your life.


★ Love historical fiction? Treat yourself to a gift 
Historical Fiction with a Modern Twist...

"I am so enamored with the sensual style and delicious delivery
 that this review is a purely emotional response as I have just put it down. 
I feel like a devotee."

Friday, November 28, 2014

Behind my back, you’ve been bold enough to entertain the worst of my enemies

He starts pacing back and forth, from one end of the balcony to the other, as if putting siege to a city. “Ha! You think I don’t hear things, even if I’m not here in person?”
“I have no secrets from you,” I say, brazenly. “Perhaps I should have.”
He seethes at me. “Behind my back, you’ve been bold enough to entertain the worst of my enemies, the one who has the blood of my brother, Asahel, on his hands.”
I move away from the railing, leaving him standing there, alone. “You’ve been in the business of war long enough to know better. One can’t hold a grudge forever.”
“You’re quite wrong about that,” he says, with a note of bitterness. “I can.”
“Then, stop it. Vengeance clutters the mind.”
“Wrong, again. It sharpens it.”
“There are casualties on either side,” I argue, “some of which may be unintended.”
He stammers. “How, how dare you say that to me?”
I cross him on my way back into my office.
“Careful now,” I warn him from in here. “Don’t you raise your voice in my presence.”
Joav plucks nervously at his mustache. Then he follows me, making an effort to lower his voice. “You weren’t there, were you?” he hisses at me. “You didn’t bear witness how ‘unintentionally’ my brother was slain.”
“It was my mistake, sending you on that mission, in the first place,” I must admit. “Had I been there, that silly game you played with the lives of their boys and ours would never have been played. And as for your brother—”
“What about Asahel?” His voice reaches a new high. “Are you accusing me for his death?”
“I’m accusing no one,” I assure him. “Not a thing is to blame but this sorry state of war.”
“I’m not my brother’s keeper!”
“Who says you are?”
“It wasn’t my hand that thrust the butt of a spear straight through his stomach, till it came out through his back, was it? Every man stopped when he came to the place where Asahel had fallen, where he died. Not one of them moved—except me.”
“A horrific sight it must have been.”
“I can still see him lying there, convulsing in a puddle of blood, mouth open as if to call my name.”

David and his first in command, Joav, in A Peek at Bathsheba

Uniting the tribes of Israel is a delicate mission. To achieve it David negotiates with the military leader of the enemy, but his ruthless first in command, Joav, does everything in his power to oppose him, because he is driven by ambition and by an urge to avenge his the death of his brother, who has been slain on the battlefield.

(The image at the top is a detail from the cover art, based on my watercolor painting. Click the 'Play' button to hear the wonderful narration of the Audio edition by Justin Harmer) 

★ Love historical fiction? Treat yourself to a gift 
Historical Fiction with a Modern Twist...

"The miracle of Uvi Poznansky's writing is her uncanny ability to return to old stories 
and make them brilliantly fresh"
-Grady Harp, Hall of Fame reviewer

Let me introduce you to my author friends

The wind is singing winter blues
Whispering with her is a muse
Let her notes take you away
Swifter than a reindeer sleigh 

Home awaits... Before you travel
Take a moment to unravel
Our story, our plot
And the gifts that we have brought

Let me tell you who we are
Come to us from near and far
And join to win!

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

"Romance that warms the heart"

"There is no second chance at first love."

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

"Author of compulsively readable thrillers"

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

"Be careful what you lust for..."

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

Bestselling author of novels from historical to fantastical.

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

My announcement of the day: The Edge of Revolt is here!

My announcement of the day: The Edge of Revolt is available for purchase! 

Here is the book description:
Struggling to find the right balance between loving his sons and upholding justice, David is silent when Amnon rapes his daughter, Tamar, and when Absalom lures Amnon to his death. These crimes go unpunished, because a mysterious change has come upon the king, which his court scribes note even before he does. In the past he had to explain his actions, such as the affair with Bathsheba, to them. Now, they want to understand the opposite thing: his lack of action.
In families other than his, such matters may be a mere matter of gossip. Yet when assault, incest, and murder occur in the king’s family, they affect matters of the state. David is toppled from his throne, and must escape from the son he adores, Absalom.
Even as he finds a way to quell the revolt and come back to the City of David, the road ahead seems unclear. How will he find the right successor amongst his remaining sons, the one who will connect to him and continue his legacy?
This is volume III of the trilogy The David Chronicles, told candidly by the king himself. David uses modern language, indicating that this is no fairytale. Rather, it is a story that is happening here and now. 

 ★ Love historical fiction? Treat yourself to a gift 
Historical Fiction with a Modern Twist...

"The miracle of Uvi Poznansky's writing is her uncanny ability to return to old stories 
and make them brilliantly fresh"
-Grady Harp, Hall of Fame reviewer

Coming home, he is unprepared for the secret, which is now revealed to him

If I wanted to, I could just extend my arms and hug her, because there she is, opposite me, and the distance... The distance, you see, is so close—but I hold myself back. 
She is looking out the window. 
Perhaps she is immersing herself in the grays and purples quivering there, on the other side of the glass, reaching a blur in the cold October sunlight. Perhaps, with great patience she is waiting there, waiting for the night, for the darkest hour, which is when her image may finally appear. It will come to the surface in front of her as if it were a sunken spirit, rising from the deep. Out of nowhere. 
For now she seems lost, searching for something—perhaps her reflection—in vain. 
I worry about mom, about the little things, which to someone else—someone who does not know her as I do—may seem trivial, insignificant. I worry she is missing her pearl earrings. I must find them for her. The little hole in her earlobe has shrunk away, turning somehow to flesh. 
In a whisper I say, “Mommy?” and wonder how the air vibrates over the tender membrane of her eardrum, how it changes into noise, how she gets it when pitch rises, when it falls. 
Can she sense the change? 
At what point does it translate, somehow, into meaning? By what path does it penetrate, going deeper? Does it excite the nerves, fire signals up there, between regions of her brain?

★ Treat yourself to a family drama ★

 "A feast for the armchair psychologist. 
Reveals insights that can touch and frighten each of us"

Tuesday, November 25, 2014

I live here on paint and on toxoid

Written by my father, translated by me

I live here on paint and on toxoid
My step faltering, against walls, against barriers
Around me I see nature destroyed
Replaced by some structures for settlers.
I live here with no joy, no regret 
And scribble little rhymes just for me
I live... No longer preach at the gate,
Nor squash any ants carelessly.
In their hiding place they seem to await 
And observe me, in all probability.
I live with no account and no friend
No longer try to right wrongs in the world,
I cannot tell my future, my end
Simply listen to the waves, to my heart.
At set, prescribed times I just swallow
Pills encoded by various pigments
And let my mind labor to follow
The secret paths of this universe.

It is clear to me now: There is no amity
There has never been any beginning,
And all that is here, that is growing
Was here and it always will be.
In space there is no upper or lower   
No right and no left all around,  
The moment is here—no past, no forever
There is no first, no last or well-found. 
Only an unending, unstoppable flow
And shapes that are shifting at will 
There is no heaven, only hell and owe
There is time, there is space, there is still.
There is no happiness, no sorrow, no feeling
Only waves dancing without and within
In a struggle with no hatred, no foaming
Without saints, without angels or sin.

So call this entirety: Yin.

I chose my charcoal drawing, which I drew to the sound of music, to accompany this profoundly wonderful poem by my father. The poem is included in my book, HomeTake a listen to the beautiful narration:

★ Inspired by poetry? Treat yourself a gift ★

"The book overflows with some of the most eloquent poetic moments in print"

Skilled Masterpiece!

Wow--I am thrilled to find this review, written by Dolores Ayotte, author of A Woman's Voice (and other self-help books) who is a great inspirational writer and one of the best reviewers on Amazon. This is what she said about the audiobook edition of A Favorite Son:

  • Dolores AyotteWinnipeg, Manitoba11-14-14
    • "Skilled Masterpiece!"
      Would you consider the audio edition of A Favorite Son to be better than the print version? 
      After both reading A Favorite Son on my own and then listening to the audio book, I think there is a definite benefit to hearing the male voice bring the characters to life. I very much enjoyed this audio experience.

      What was one of the most memorable moments of A Favorite Son?
      One of the most memorable moments is the obvious favoritism of Rebecca for one son over another and the lengths she would go to deceive her husband, Isaac, demonstrates the duplicity of her role in all of their lives. 

      Which character – as performed by David Kudler – was your favorite?
      I think David Kudler did a great job of portraying all the characters he played in this audio book. His voice is clear, precise, and effectively draws the listener into the story line.

      Any additional comments?
      Most of us are familiar with the well-known Bible story of Jacob and Esau. Twin sons born to Rebecca and Isaac in their later years, are at odds and in competition to inherit the much coveted blessing from their father on his deathbed. The collaboration that takes place between mother and her favorite son, Yankle, in order to dupe Isaac effectively demonstrates the length some parents will go to in their unfairness, or what I refer to as, the "division" of their love.

      According to the main thread skillfully woven into this novel, the phenomenon of favoring one child over another may be a curse not only for the favored child but for the rejected one as well. I purposely use the word "division" of love to describe the favoritism both Rebecca and Isaac displayed for opposite sons in this story in order to stress what I consider to be a poignant point.In my opinion, neither parent expresses true love. True love does not divide families nor does it create ugly competitiveness, sibling rivalry, jealously, hatred, anger and all the other undesirable, negative traits expressed between these two sons. Neither parent shows love for their offspring nor toward each other. It has been said that true love never divides.When one discovers this definition of love and fully embraces this concept, the negative emotions experienced by this family and many others, will no longer exist. To me, that is the true moral to this Bible story.Ms. Poznansky takes an age old story and gives it a modern twist.

      The reader is invited into the tortured psyche of Yankle and the grief, guilt, and full knowledge of the consequence of his deception in order to demonstrate what a living hell is all about. Yankle is haunted by his choice, that of manipulating his father's deteriorating physical condition along with his mother, in order to steal his brother, Esav's birthright. He does not want to repeat history in his own life and continue with this kind of favoritism in his relationship with his own sons.This author shows not only by the cover she has so beautifully painted, but also by the words she has so carefully chosen to depict the results of such a past and present dilemma...the consequences of such a devious act.

      To quote Ms. Poznansky when describing her book cover, she states, "To me, this is what this image means: looking directly at yourself, facing the pain and the ugly imperfections within, without any attempt to mask who you are--even if you find yourself on the verge of a meltdown." I think each of us will eventually reach this point in life, and regardless of what path we take to get there, we must face ourselves, our actions, our lives and learn what true love is all about...I think this is the genuine motive and goal behind the work of this talented artist and author. Her writing is meant to provoke, prod, persuade, and push us to the limits of our inner selves in order to tie it all together. In my opinion, she is not only showing us a part of herself, her every desire is for us to see our own reflection in her work and see what personal message it holds. She has certainly succeeded with me...

      Inspirational Author & Book Reviewer ~ Dolores Ayotte