Uvi Poznansky's Blog, page 69

Was it my fault?

If you can not see this chirbit, listen to it here https://chirb.it/HOwnwx

Back to Betty. I don’t like her much. No, that’s an understatement. I don’t like her at all. She’s pretty enough to be envied, if not for those glued-on eyelashes, bleached hair, and bronze skin, the one you get by putting yourself at the hands of experts in the best tanning salons in town. Betty has a coy smile and pointy boobs, not to mention long legs, often presented in sexy tights that make her big butt bulge even more than it already does. She has been using these assets, time and again, to steal away my previous boyfriends. All two of them. That’s why I’ve never introduced her to the one I’m dating right now, I mean, the one I would be dating, if not for having to hang out around here. So no, I don’t like Betty. Even so, I must admit: her company is good for me. As long as I have visitors, I’m not forgotten. I’m still among the living.The nurse says, “She’s just the same.” “Really? The same?” asks Betty, with a note of disappointment that astonishes me. Does she care? Really?The nurse sighs. “Who knows if she’ll ever be better.”“You mean—”“Yes. With the trauma she’s gone through, she may never wake up.”What? How dare the nurse say anything like that? I’m tempted to leap out of bed and scare her with a good shriek. It takes a while for me to control my temper, control it long enough to wonder, what does she mean? What, exactly, have I gone through? Betty clears her throat. “What, exactly, has she gone through?”“So sorry,” says the nurse. “For privacy reasons, this is something I can discuss only with family. You related?”“No, not really—”“Then, so sorry. My lips are sealed. You understand, of course.”“Of course,” says Betty, in a tone that means just the opposite. I bet she’s rolling her eyes. If that were a sport, she’d win a medal. Now she turns on her heels—one of them squeals against the floor—and stomps out of the room. That’s just like her, popping in when I least expect the pleasure of her company, then popping out again, even though the right thing to do is to spend some time by the side of the dearly beloved. I’m foaming at the mouth. But as angry as I am, how can I blame her? As far as conversation goes, there’s no way for me to amuse her, let alone keep her interested.Meanwhile, the nurse goes to the foot of the bed, where she hangs something—my chart?—which sways back and forth a couple of times, singing on a nail. Then she leans over to straighten the blanket, while muttering to herself, “Poor girl. Not even Prince Charming can save her.”At this point, I turn my anger against myself. So far, I’ve neglected to ask the right questions. I must start making a list. Was there some near-fatal accident? Is that what landed me here? When? Where? How? Was it my fault? 

Except from Coma Confidential
Narrated by the amazing Heather Jane Hogan

Coma Confidential(Volume I of Ash Suspense Thrillers with a Dash of Romance)Audiobook: Coming soon!Paperback: Amazon
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? 

It's that flirting with reality that makes this story such a compulsive read. Plot twists and suspenseful storytelling make this a book that you will have trouble putting down..  ~Kathy Parsons

I couldn't put it down

Short and sweet review of my suspense book, Coma Confidential:


Mary Stewart 5.0 out of 5 stars Amazing!April 8, 2019
Format: Kindle EditionVerified Purchase I couldn't put it down. Great characters. Good pace. I recommend it.

Do No Harm: Maya Hope by @authortimbrowne

Drip.Drip.Drip.Blood pooled in his open chest cavity, overflowing onto his shredded shirt and dripping against the ancient stone altar. His once-tanned ashen face was a stark contrast to the crimson wounds across his lower chin and eyebrow. The flesh around his wrists was torn and raw having been tugged and bound by ropes. His lifeless body lay on its back, stretched over the stone; his face turned upward, as if pleading for mercy. The man’s chest, split between the ribs on the left side below the nipple, was flailed open and his heart removed in the traditional Way of the Maya ritual.The jungle, silenced and confused by this horror not experienced in over 1,200 years, steeped in hushed tension.When Danilo realized what the men had done, he jerked his head away from the scene and vomited hard. He staggered and glanced back at the dead man as if to verify what he’d seen, only to be confronted by an asylum of terror.Sacrificial spirits spewed from the dark corners of the temple to merge with sulfuric fumes from hell itself to gorge on the unleashed evil. Wailing and shrieking filled the night as shadowy figures fought for dominance, dancing with fiendish delight and lapping the blood like wolves on a fresh kill. Stench and steam engulfed the demons and formed dark clouds obscuring the full moon that had illuminated the fresh corpse draped over the stone.A thunderous legion of warring angels, dazzling with light, appeared in a brilliant bolt of lightning just as darkness had all but drained life from the jungle, sending the demons screeching to their hellish destiny and knocking Danilo off his footing. This was the moment Danilo knew that the dead man’s spirit left his body because evil had no right to claim a holy man.
* * *
The three killers lagged behind their hired local guide, Danilo Perez, who was being driven forward by the terror of the human heart in his backpack. He couldn’t shake the musty smell of wet moss that reeked with a strange sulfuric odor.Above their heads, a howler monkey bellowed. It echoed the killing screams and encouraged other monkeys, insects and toads to join the chaotic choir, and the jungle cacophony returned.Suddenly, a booming clap of thunder rattled Danilo, a searing strike of lightning shook the ground, and rain began to fall with a vengeance fiercer than this March rainy season. A torrent gushed from the sky, hitting the flora and fauna with a force that drowned the jungle sounds. Danilo looked through the towering canopy for the sliver of filtered moonlight, but it had vanished, giving way to frightening darkness as the storm devoured the jungle.Water saturated every leaf, and Danilo wiped his face on his wet sleeve only to obscure his vision further.While hacking a trail through the jungle with his machete, lead coursed through his veins, and his nostrils stung with the pungent smell of blood not even the rain could vanquish. He moved as fast as he could, hoping to distance himself from the ruthless killers with their strange accents and hardened faces as he led them back to their car. He squinted through the rain at the swaying treetops and tried to make sense of the shadowy figures overhead.Maybe I’m seeing things.He tried to quicken his pace, but every slash at the underbrush brought excruciating pain. His legs and arms grew heavy. As he forced his body to move, he remembered feeling this way once before.As a young boy in Guatemala, during a horrifying vivid nightmare, he had experienced a visitation. He often wondered if it was the devil himself. He remembered feeling pinned to the bed—too heavy to move.Now, in the impenetrable gloom of the storm he relived the nightmare, but this time it was worse—he couldn’t tell if it was rain that dripped down his back or the blood from his backpack that soaked him.Why did I agree to lead these men? The money, of course.But how could he have known he’d be carrying a human heart in his backpack?He heard the men behind him utter what sounded like curses.“Move!” one of them yelled.Danilo wasn’t sure if he had been pushed or if he’d buckled from an explosive clap of thunder, but he found himself on his knees. 

Excerpt from Maya Hope by Timothy Browne, MDIncluded in Do No Harm

Preorder it now:Do No Harm Nook ★ Apple ★ Kobo

My new sketch: mother and child

Just a new charcoal sketch. The idea was to place the faces not in the cnter but at the edge of the paper, and let the composition grow from there. What do you think?

Do No Harm: Only Wrong Once by @Jen_Ruff

The dead lay unattended amidst bombed-out buildings on streets coated with ash and blood. Beside a pile of rubble, Yesenia spotted a body wearing a blue and white hijab, one leg bent at an impossible angle. Her neighbor, before their homes burned, had the same hijab. Yesenia squeezed her eyes shut and clutched her mother’s hand. Normally, she was much too old for hand-holding, but anyone could become lost in the shoving crowd and nothing was normal anymore. As far as Yesenia could see, thousands of other Shiite Muslims from her village were packed together, waiting evacuation. Refugees. That’s what they were called now. Buses would soon arrive to carry them to safer territories. They huddled under blankets, clinging to valuables. Yesenia pressed her shivering body against her mother’s leg for warmth. Eyes lifted to the sky, her mother prayed to leave the war-torn city alive, before the next explosion. She’d been praying almost every hour for months. So far, it hadn’t done any good.Cheers erupted when the buses, dozens of them, finally arrived. An elbow hit Yesenia hard, sending a sudden pain across her cheek, as someone edged in front of her mother. Yesenia was just as desperate to reach the door of the bus, climb the steps, and end up somewhere safe. Anywhere else but here. But so many people were waiting. Yesenia didn’t think the buses could possibly hold enough seats for all of them.The escalating rumble of trucks filled the air, louder than the mob swarming forward to load the buses. In the distance, a rising cloud of dust indicated a convoy approaching. Yesenia held her breath, waiting to see the colors. Green for good, gray or black for bad. They were all evil, as far as she was concerned. They had destroyed her city and her life one nightmarish day after another until both became completely unrecognizable. Her mother pulled her toward the bus, even though there wasn’t room to move forward. Her scarf caught on something and yanked away from her neck, but she snatched it back in time. The engines grew louder, joined by angry shouts. A quick glimpse on her tiptoes revealed the front of a truck.Gray.Her heart sank."Hurry, Yesenia,” said her mother. “Don’t let go of me.” Together, they pressed into the mass of unwashed, pungent smelling bodies and tattered, flowing garments moving toward the buses.The men from the trucks, ISIS or government? She did not know or care. They fired their rifles into the night sky, scattering the refugees. Looking like crazed demons, they jumped from the truck beds with flaming torches and ran along the line of buses, flinging streams of gasoline, and setting them on fire. Refugees rushed off the buses, pushing and shoving, shrieking and screaming, some on fire. Desperate souls searched for space to roll on the ground and extinguish their flaming clothes. Able to escape the fiery inferno, Yesenia’s mother pulled her daughter backward causing Yesenia’s ankle to twist and give out. Yesenia dropped her bag and saw it disappear under a stampede of boots. She wanted to scream too, but she could only open her mouth and stare wide-eyed as the flames leapt from the bus windows, consuming their only life-line.The men from the trucks kept guard, their hardened expressions glowing in the blazing light, their guns and rifles ready, watching the buses reduce to burned-out metal shells.Yesenia’s mother rocked in place on her heels, sobbing.Yesenia wanted to run, but they had nowhere to go, and at least with the fire they were finally warm. Next to her, a frail, old man, eyes cloudy with cataracts, wailed up at the sky. “Does anyone in the world care if we all perish?”Yesenia released her mother’s hand and whispered through clenched teeth. “No one cares. No one is paying attention to Aleppo.” That was one thing she knew for sure.But she was wrong. Someone was paying attention.
Just outside Aleppo, in a hidden compound, one particularly dangerous and powerful man, Muhammad Al-Bahil, had taken note of the city’s tragic situation. Aleppo had become the perfect location for his sinister experiment.
Excerpt from Only Wrong Once by Jenifer RuffIncluded in Do No Harm

Preorder it now:Do No Harm Nook ★ Apple ★ Kobo

A delicious psychological thriller

Here is a lovely review, written by Aaron Paul Lazar. Aaron is a mystery writer author, and many of his books have audiobook editions. I am thrilled by what he says about the audiobook narration of my medical thriller, Coma Confidential:


Aaron P. Lazar 5.0 out of 5 stars A delicious psychological thrillerMarch 31, 2019
Format: Kindle EditionVerified Purchase Coma Confidential, by Uvi Poznansky, is the latest release from this USA Today Bestselling Author. Ms. Poznansky has successfully experimented with a new dimension of genre here, in what I’d call a delicious psychological thriller.

Told from the point of view of a comatose patient, Coma Confidential is brilliantly conceived and finely executed.

In the first part of the book, the patient—whom we later discover is named Ash—can only hear sounds around her. She knows the tapping sounds in the hallway match certain nurse’s and doctor’s footsteps. Fully aware of her surroundings, she can’t communicate. She lives in a dark world where the staff buzz around her, talking about her as if she’s probably a lost cause. Completely alone and confused, she doesn’t know her name or have any idea what put her in the hospital in this coma.

The aroma of donuts tells her the policeman is back on his shift… but why is he guarding her?

Later, a strangely familiar voice with a Russian accent sends adrenaline whooshing through her body…but why?

Little by little, Ash unravels the mystery of what landed her in the hospital and why she’s in terrible danger. And day by day, parts of her body begin to awaken. At first it’s a twinge in her toe. Soon she can open her eyes. But she realizes that revealing that she’s coming back may sign her death warrant, so she keeps her gradual awakening a secret.

When the power systems start failing randomly in the neighborhood and within the hospital, Ash is worried. She still needs machinery to help her stay alive. What will happen to her if the power doesn’t come back next time?

This suspenseful story spins into a wild race for survival for Ash, filled with terror, courage, and a journey that will have you cheering her on.

Coma Confidential is the second in the Ash Suspense Thrillers series, but it completely stands alone and there’s no need to read book one first in order to enjoy this intriguing tale!

Do No Harm: Kill Switch by @savvystories

The murderer who called himself The Greyhound pulled a black ski mask over his face and stared at the ornate door of his next victim's house.On TV, cops and angry boyfriends can always kick a door open. In real life, it’s a little more complicated than that.He hefted the 40-pound battering ram to gage its balance. According to the website that sold them, these heavy steel rams replaced a swift kick for police officers around 1975, and had been reliably opening the doors of stubborn perpetrators ever since.Hit the knob with it straight on, and it will do the rest.Taking a deep breath, he rubbed the knot growing in his stomach. He stepped away from the door and glanced through the large bay window, eyeing the fat old man as he ate at the table. The overhead chandelier cast a warm yellow glow over the dining room walls, spilling onto the yard outside in a misshapen rectangle.The man inside carved a tiny slice of something on his plate, gently lifting it to his mouth, the fork upside down like European royalty. Good posture, too. No doubt that was the way Dr. Faustus Braunheiser demanded the students at Wellington Academy to eat, all prim and proper. Students watching from their tables would see the rigid old man operating as any proper headmaster should, a perfect example of stuffy grace and tedious dignity.But tonight, the old man dined alone.No gawking teenage boys in matching shirts and ties, no suck up faculty. And best of all, no family members.That’s no way to celebrate your birthday, doctor.A breeze tugged at his collar and brought the stench of the bay at low tide. He peered at the tall hedges lining the driveway.Thank goodness for privacy.The killer reactively went to wipe his hand on his pants, stopping when he remembered the latex gloves he wore. After patting the butt of the big revolver strapped to his belt, he regripped the 40-pound steel battering ram. Its two handles allowed it to swing like a giant pendulum, and according to the website, the concentrated impact at hand speed was somewhere in the vicinity of 6,000 pounds per square inch.More than enough to do the trick.He took a deep breath, straining to guide the tip of the thick black ram to the shiny brass knob, but not touch it. He held it there for a moment, lining up his shot, then he let the ram swing backwards. The momentum of its short, stubby mass wanted to carry him backwards with it, off the ornate front porch and down the majestic home’s marble stairs, but he forced his arms and shoulders to contain the pendulum.When the battering ram reached the peak of its backwards arc, he brought it forward once again toward the door.One.Exhaling hard, he rocked the ram backwards again. A bead of sweat rolled past the bandage and down the side of his face.He swung it forward again, nearly touching the knob.Two.The ram arced backwards one last time. With a grunt, the Greyhound squeezed the steel handles and gritted his teeth, heaving the ram towards the door knob.Three.The impact sent a jolt up his arms and a thunderclap that boomed down the doctor’s long driveway and past the vintage Jaguar parked there, before fading into the night. As the door knob disappeared, a cloud of splinters took its place. The momentum of the ram carried Greyhound into the door frame, the ram disappearing up to the handles inside the thick wooden door.He yanked the heavy steel tool a few times to get it free, then dropped it over the mansion’s stone porch rail and the into the manicured bushes. It landed with a thump in the thick mulch. The massive front door stood, cracked in several places and with a big hole where the knob used to be, but it inched open.The Greyhound raised his foot to do the rest. Kicking the door, it swung open and crashed into the mahogany-paneled wall. The old man at the table was already on his feet, his eyes wide and his mouth half open with the next tiny bite of his elegant birthday dinner. He stormed toward the entrance of his home. “What do you think you’re doing? Who are you? Get out!”Heart pounding, the Greyhound pulled his large gun from its holster and pointed it at the old man. “Shut up and sit down, Dr. Braunheiser.”The headmaster stopped in his tracks, jaw agape. He slowly raised his hands.“You don’t remember me, do you?” The Greyhound said.
Excerpt from Kill Switch by Dan Alatorre
Included in Do No Harm

Preorder it now:Do No Harm Nook ★ Apple ★ Kobo

Last days of King David

A short and sweet review from for my historical fiction novel, The Edge of Revolt:


Book loverTOP 1000 REVIEWERVINE VOICE 4.0 out of 5 stars last days of King DavidMarch 28, 2019
Format: Kindle EditionVerified Purchase These are the last days of King David when his sons revolt against him and he has to flee Jerusalem with his family. It is a sad time and the book is written as if David was actually speaking. Interesting idea.

A heartfelt masterpiece

LISTENERTU
1,275reviews
724helpful votes
1,522ratings




The Music of UsStill Life with Memories, Book 3By: Uvi PoznanskyNarrated by: Don Warrick A heartfelt masterpiece Overall  ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️    5 out of 5 starsPerformance  ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️    5 out of 5 starsStory  ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️    5 out of 5 starsReviewed: 10-25-18


I was given this free review copy audio book at my request and have voluntarily left this review.
This was a touching tale of Lenny and Natasha when they first met. It was so interesting to hear their love story from the beginning after the first two books tell their current story. The story is grounded in the present, where the last books left off, but is focused on memories, vividly told, from Lenny's perspective. The realistic emotions portrayed in this book are tangible. I found myself feeling genuine emotion while listening to their story. The narration is very well done. All in all, this is a masterpiece of an audio book and well worth the time.

Cover reveal: Do No Harm

I'm thrilled to be part of this upcoming collection of 15 medical thrillers by the best and the brightest. The title is Do No Harm. Here is the cover:



Once the spine of the box is created, listing the amazing authors in the team, I created also the 3D perspective of the boxed set.

And just for the fun of it, I created also the reflections of the front cover and the spine:

Coming soon...