Friday, November 29, 2019

My life is scandal-free at the moment. It feels nice for a change

The David Chronicles: Trilogy has the theme of love running throughout. Love is what drives David to temptation. It is also what helps him find redemption. Here is the first time David lays eyes on Bathsheba in volume I of the trilogy, Rise to Power:

Then, on a whim, she plunges underwater nearly all the way, so all that remains above the foamy surface is the little embroidered towel wrapped around her head. 
After several evenings of watching her from afar I still have no idea if her hair is curled or straight, red or brown. I have painted her in my mind several different ways already, each time more beautiful than the other. By now it matters little to me. She is so sexy, she might as well be bald. 
When she comes back up, “What,” she says. “You still here?”
“What’s the point of going up there,” I say, hearing a slight tone of complaint in my voice. I hope she does not think me childish. That would be devastating. 
With a hint of a smile, she asks, “What does that mean, What’s the point?”
So I say, “You would seem too small from above.”
“Really,” says Bathsheba. “I thought I spotted you standing by your window, with your sword aimed at me.”
To which I explain, “I could not see a thing through the glass. It became cloudy, or something. At this time of day, even though it is only the beginning of summer, it’s much too steamy in the office.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’ve had it with men.”
I can find nothing to say, and perhaps there is no need to. She can tell, can’t she, how desperately I ache for her.
“My life is scandal-free at the moment,” she says. “It feels nice for a change.”

David’s love affair with Bathsheba is, arguably, the most torrid love affair ever told, and the love scenes could not be less than arousing, yet they must be delivered with lyricism and be no more explicit than the biblical Song of Songs. Here, then, is an excerpt from A Peek at Bathsheba:

Separated from her by the thought of a kiss I sense her heat, and the gust of air scented by roses and by her flesh—but I cannot tell if the breath between us is hers or mine. Which is when I know, for one perfect moment, that she is part of my essence. 
I am part of hers.
Bathsheba holds me in a tender embrace as I lay her down. Scattered petals fly off, swirling in the air around her long, silky hair that starts cascading here, over the pillows and onto the tile floor. 
Accidentally the goblet, which she has set down next to her, tips over and some of the wine spills over her hip. I dip a finger in the red puddle beside her, and paint countless grapes around her waist. 
Intoxicated I murmur to her, “Your graceful legs are like jewels, the work of an artist’s handsYour navel is a rounded goblet that never lacks blended wine.” 
I want to wait, wait for her to give herself to me—but in the end I cannot fight my passion any longer, and I take her. She sighs softly and arches herself against me, rising on the fervor of my caress, higher and higher into ecstasy.

Despite the fact that David has a full harem of woman... Here is the way he thinks of Bathsheba towards the end of his life, in volume 3, The Edge of Revolt

Overhead, a cloud breaks off from the others and moves in a new direction. Its wooly, dim grays are drifting across. I squint, rub my eyes. Now, in a separate layer, another image starts floating past: the way she looked, right here on this roof, when we came out of these doors the very first time. 
I remember: scattered petals flew off, swirling in the glow around her long, silky hair that started cascading under her, onto the tile floor. In the background, a vine of roses twisted over the wooden lattice and into it. Between its diagonal slats I saw a diamond here, a diamond there of the heavens. I wondered then about the black void that was gaping upon us, dotted by a magical glint of starlight.
Separated from her by the thought of a kiss I sensed her heat, and the gust of air, which was sweetly scented by roses and by her flesh—but I could not tell if the breath between us was hers or mine. Which is when I knew, for the first time in my life, that she would always be part of my essence. I would be part of hers.
Accidentally the goblet, which she had set down next to her, tipped over and some of the wine spilled over her hip. The crisp sound of breaking glass rang in my ear. It marked the moment, from which I could not turn back. Never would I be able to put it out of my mind.
Yes, this was my fault: taking a woman that belonged to another. Soon after came the blunder: bringing her husband, Uriah, back from the front, that he may sleep with her, which would have explained her pregnancy ever so conveniently. 
And when that did not go as planned, then came another mistake, the worst of all: sending him back to the battlefield, with my sealed letter in hand, arranging for his death. 
All the while, my boys were learning their own lessons—not from my psalms but from my deeds. One error begets another, each one bringing a new calamity over me, over my family, and over this entire land. Sin followed by execution, followed by revolt, escape, execution, revolt...
Had I known back then the results of the results of my mistake, the curse looming over my life ever since that time, would I still choose to do it? 
Bathsheba tries to raise me to my feet. Her fragrance brings back to me the sunny, warm hues of spring. The fears, the doubts flee away when we are that close. I adore the way she calls my name, the way she sighs. With every sweet word I fall deeper into her eyes. 
How can love be a mistake? In my passion for her—then as now—what choice do I have?
I want to tell her, “Let me close my eyes. Let me remember.”

"I love this series for its convincing depiction of real people in ancient times, for its unflinching honesty, and for its vividly real characters. This David is no cardboard cutout to be filled in with bright crayoned colors. His Bathsheba is no plaything. And his women will take their place on the stage of history, will have their voice, and will cry out for love and hate and hope." 
Sheila Deeth, Top Amazon Reviewer, Vine Voice

Thursday, November 21, 2019

My stained glass design: Walking Away

Here is my stained glass design, done by cutting a brown sheet of paper and then coloring the clear plastic behind it. 
Walking Away

Sunday, November 17, 2019

My darling Betty has a thing or two to learn from you

What used to make the Spectrum so dazzling is more than just the elegant architecture of its buildings or the costliness of products sold in its stores. Above all, it’s electricity. Without it, the Edwards 21-screen movie theater, located at its heart, is nothing but an inky facade. You may still notice it, but only because it blocks some of the black stretch of clouds. 
The closest I can describe it to you is to say that the place looks like a black-on-black painting, where the artist alone may discern the nearly non-existent variation in shades, while the rest of us can only pretend that we do.
The soaring white obelisk, with the word SPECTRUM vertically projected onto it on regular nights, is now reduced to an outline of a thorn, aimed at the heavens.
Even the upright palm trees, lining the side of a shallow pool of water, seem to sink out of sight. Every Christmas, tiny lights are coiled around their trunks, all the way up to their palm-leafed crowns, which makes each tree look like a bejeweled neck of some mythical creature. Tonight, these lights are off, and the trees—invisible.
With great gusto, Vlad pushes me forward, racing in the direction of the shouting and the shots. 
“Girl, you’re as good as gone,” he says, leaning from behind the wheelchair to whisper into my ear. “I don’t even know why I’m talking to you, except to say that you’re the perfect companion.”
I say not a word, so he leans over me once again. “Well, well, well,” he says. “Nothing, no response, ha? Call me arrogant, but I love a woman who’s clever enough to shut up. My darling Betty has a thing or two to learn from you.”
I hold on to my silence, and not because I have nothing to say, but rather because I must focus on other, more critical tasks, such as contract and relax, contract and relax the muscles of my legs, and then fold and spread, fold and spread my toes, so as to gain better control of my feet. 
You never know when I’ll need them.
After all, being immobile is not for me. I must snap out of it. But snapping is next to impossible when my fingers are still asleep.
Meanwhile, Vlad has quickened his step. “Let’s go for some action!”
I don’t know what kind of action he’s looking for, but at this point, I’m ready for anything. I mean, anything that will take his hands off the back of my wheelchair and somehow, set me free.

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? 

"Beauty of prose bound together with a sensitive thriller make this a very special new series from a very fine writer."  

Friday, November 15, 2019

Excellent addition to the series



Sacramento, CA

  Excellent addition to the series 

Overall  ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️    
5 out of 5 stars
Performance ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ 
5 out of 5 stars
Story  ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️    
5 out of 5 stars
Reviewed: 08-30-19
Excellent character driven stories. Enjoyable and exhilarating. tragically heartbreaking but beautiful at the same time. The lengths we go for love is never defined and Lenny and Natasha prove this. 
The narration was excellent. Very moving and exciting. 

I requested a free copy of this audiobook and I am leaving a voluntary and honest review.

Wednesday, November 13, 2019

Michael gave me a gift of sorts, a stolen one

Last evening, in addition to bringing flowers and chocolate, Michael gave me a gift of sorts, a stolen one. I’m not sure I’m ready for it: a digital copy of an unfinished memoir, titled Confessions of a Murderer, lifted from the dead man’s laptop just before the police entered the scene. 
I’ve been reading it in spurts, because I find the writing too raw. Don’t get me wrong: my literary taste is not all that refined. But being in the presence of a sick mind is no fun. 
It scares me to the core.
Even so, I keep going back to it, hoping to find some answers. The more I read, the more convinced I become that my search is futile.
So no, I’m no longer thinking about the killer. There’s no more doubt about his identity. 
Even so, he remains a mystery.

"This was a fascinating and captivating read that had me immersed from the beginning. The story flowed from scene to scene with ease, and as always, the author shows exceptional ability when it comes to storytelling. There are plenty of attention-grabbing moments in this page turner that will take the reader on a truly mesmerizing journey!"

Monday, November 11, 2019

Who is this woman, with whom I have built a family?

Sometimes I wonder: after such a long time together, how little do we know each other?
Who is this woman, with whom I have built a family? Behind this frightened gaze, is this really Natasha, my love, my inspiration? Can I stop her from becoming even more damaged? Can I save her? Is she still present?
And if this is no longer Natasha as I know her, Perhaps this is Rochelle? Perhaps she is just fooling me—and not only me but everyone else too, including the doctors—because... Because to win a victory against a dangerous foe, sometimes you must work your way through deception, through secrets and lies.
Is she just pretending—for reasons known only to her—to be a new person, different from the one I thought she was? 
Oh, how I would like to believe that!
I lean over to comb that unruly strand of hair away from her eye. 
At first, Natasha seems startled. Then she lets me tuck it, ever so gently, around her ear.
I say, “There’s so much I want to ask you, sweetheart.”
“Really?” she asks, with a reluctant tone. She stares blankly at the corner of the kitchen floor, evading my eyes as if in anticipation of some trick question. “Like what?”
“Remember that night, in Vernon?”
She replies, “Yes,” but does so with a shaky tone, which means no, I don’t really remember but I’ll give you the answer you want. Just let me be.
I wipe a bit of syrup from her chin. She must have licked it when I wasn’t looking. “You told me,” I say, “that come what may, you would never forget that night.”
“That night?” she says. “Which one?”
“In Vernon, when we woke up in each other’s embrace, to the sound of shots.”
I pause for a second, so she may reply. And as I wait for her, the memory comes back to me. It seems so fresh, so vivid, as if it happened just yesterday...
Following the failed attempt to blow the bridge, fights erupted between French Resistance fighters and German soldiers. Rochelle and I ran frantically through the narrow streets to join Monsieur Antoine and about forty other fighters. 
Upon arriving at city hall, he handed us some home-made explosives, which we started hurling, along with the other fighters, at German tanks and trucks. I remember the shine in her eyes. “This,” she cried out to me, “is a life worth living!”
Just then, one of the tanks caught fire. The blast pushed her back, accidentally, into my arms. Oh, what a fiery woman she used to be!
And still, there is fire in her. 
I dread the day when she will stop playing altogether. As long as her music—such as it is—is full of rage, perhaps, perhaps, perhaps there is still hope. 

Up to the moment I listened to this passage, I thought that acting is merely the skill to pretend. Then, I heard Don Warrick read it and learned that the opposite is true. Acting is the journey to find the truth from within.

"In this collection of WWII love stories, Lenny and Natasha had an unforgettable romance and love story from the 1940's through the 1970's. He was a marine. She was a concert pianist . Their story is heart-rendering." 
~ BJ Robinson, Author

Sunday, November 10, 2019

Prelude to Crescendo

While designing a cover for an author friend, I came up with this imaginary composition. Here's my charcoal and chalk sketch for it, not sure what to call it yet. 
Prelude to Crescendo, maybe.

Thursday, November 7, 2019

One of the Top Ten Romantic Thriller Writers

I'm humbled to find my romantic thriller series featured by Caleb Pirtle III On his illustrious literary site, providing excerpts from my work, and opening with this introductory note: Razor-sharp writing, can’t-put-it-down plot and chapter after chapter of exquisite storytelling.

 Check it out:

Wednesday, November 6, 2019

BookBub: the secret of success

Next to Amazon, BookBub is the most comprehensive platform for authors. It is here that promoting your books would lift them to commercial success. So getting more followers on this platform allows you to increase your reach. The more follower, the more people will receive dedicated emails from BookBub about your new releases and price promotions. Also, passing the 1K followers threshold unlocks the ability to send BookBub Preorder Alerts.

Make It Easy to Follow You:
Add a link (if possible, a bright red button that is linked) to your BookBub page in the following places:
  • A prominent place on your website or blog. For example, see the button at the upper left corner of my blog. Don't forget to follow me, too :)
  • In the back matter of every one of your ebooks (along with your Amazon page and website or blog)
  • A prominent place in every one of your newsletters
  • Add a tweet to your daily rotation to call your followers to follow you on BB. Say something like, "Never miss a book sale or miss out of a new release!" Then, give out the link.

Write BB Reviews:
A great way to increase the number of followers is to review books on BoobBub. Unlike Amazon, BookBub encourages authors to review books by other authors. Why? Because authors are great reviewers! So in review, do more than click a few buttons to indicate how you felt about the book. Write a full-bodied, in-depth review. BookBub sends these reviews to the followers of the author of the book and to your followers, and over time you will gain more and more of them.

Set up Giveaways/Contests:
You can create giveaways through RaffleCopter, ember their widget in a blog post, and announce it on  your newsletter, Facebook page, Facebook group, and Twitter. You can also run a joint giveaway with other authors.

Gain Followers through Paid Promotions:
For example, you can join gift card giveaways on AuthorsXP promotions to gain followers.

Friday, November 1, 2019

Amazing Medical Thriller!


Joe Mahoney

Golden Valley, AZ USA

 Amazing Medical Thriller! 

Overall  ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
5 out of 5 stars
Performance  ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
5 out of 5 stars
Story  ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
5 out of 5 stars
Reviewed: 11-01-19

Overdose-Ash Suspense Thrillers with a Dash of Romance, Book 3 is written by Uvi Poznansky. The audiobook is narrated by Heather Jane Hogan. Ms. Poznansky has created another great attention-holding medical thriller in this series. With Ash still recovering from the events of the previous book, she is suffering from after effect of her coma. Her surgeon is not what he appears to be with a questionable background and the recent death of his wife. This string of events and actions leads Michael and Ash a mystery to unravel and a great story for the listener.

The narration by Heather Jane Hogan was amazing. Ms. Hogan created voices for the many characters that were memorable and made the audio production a true joy for the listener. The production value is of the highest quality. I heard no problems during the entire performance. There were not any detectable flaws that I was able to hear during the entire performance. I did not hear any loops, breaks, or buzzing. The production was crisp and clear. Uvi Poznansky delivered excellent audiobook production I was given this free review copy audiobook at my request and have voluntarily left this review.

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