A Peek at Bathsheba by Uvi Poznansky

Having reached his peak, David makes a serious error that threatens to undo his political success and cost him not only the adoration of his people, but also the sense of being sustained by a divine power. That error is the most torrid tale of passion ever told: his forbidden love for Bathsheba.
When she becomes pregnant, David attempts to cover up the ensuing scandal by sending her husband—who serves him faithfully in his army—to his death. And for the rest of his life, he is tormented by the memory of that moment. Will he find redemption? Will he muster the strength to keep his promise to her and protect their son from danger?

This standalone novel is also volume II 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. Listen to his voice as he undergoes a profound change, realizing the magnitude of his sin, and the curse looming over his entire future.

Targeted Audience: 21 and up

Author Bio:
Uvi Poznansky is a California-based author, poet and artist. “I paint with my pen,” she says, “and write with my paintbrush.” She received a Fellowship grant and a Teaching Assistantship from the Architecture department at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, where she earned her M.A. in Architecture. Then, taking a sharp turn in her education, she earned her M.S. degree in Computer Science from the University of Michigan.

Uvi writes across a variety of genres: My Own Voice, The White Piano, and Apart From Love (literary fiction), The Music of Us and Dancing with Air (romance), The David Chronicles, Rise to Power, A Peek at Bathsheba, and The Edge of Revolt ((historical fiction), A Favorite Son (biblical fiction), Home (poetry), Twisted (horror) Now I Am Paper and Jess and Wiggle (children’s book.)

What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
As an artist, I find great inspiration in art throughout the ages, describing each moment in the life of my character, David. There are literally thousands of paintings about the moment he spotted Bathsheba bathing on her roof. These paintings and sculptures depict different attitudes of artists towards him, which allows my writing to be enriched by different points of view. 

Read more, including a sample from the book
Sample from Book:

Wrapped in a long, flowing fabric that creates countless folds around her curves, she loosens just the top of it and lets it slide off her head—only to reveal a blush, and mischievous glint, shining in her eye. It is over that sparkle that I catch a sudden reflection, coming from the back window, of a full moon.
Looking left, right, and down the staircase, to make sure no one is lurking outside my chamber door, I let her in. Then I lock it behind her, so no one may intrude upon us.
In a manner of greeting I raise my goblet. It is a gift from my supplier, Hiram king of Tyre, and unlike the other goblets I have in my possession, this one is made of fine glass, with minute air bubbles floating in it. With a big splash I fill it up to the rim with red, aromatic wine. In it I dip a glistening, ruddy cherry, and offer it to her, with a flowery toast.
“For you,” I say. “With my everlasting love!”
Bathsheba takes the goblet from my hand, and raises it to her lips. “Love, everlasting?” she says, raising an eyebrow. “What does that mean, in this place?”
I hesitate to ask, “What place is that?”
“This court,” she says, with a slight curtsy, “where the signature feature is a harem, which is as big as the king is endowed with glory.”
“Glory is a good thing,” say I, lowering my voice. “But sometimes it is better to meet in the shadows.”
“Especially,” she says, matching her voice to mine, “when there are so many others.”
“Here we are,” say I. “It’s just us.”
“Really,” says Bathsheba, sipping her wine and ever so delightfully, licking her lips. “It must be a special night, then! Just you and me, and no one else, no one else at all.”
Yet I cannot avoid feeling the presence of someone other than me in her thoughts, perhaps her husband, Uriah, who is one of my mighty soldiers and the most trusty of them. Earlier today he must have received his transfer orders to join the cavalry in the eastern hills, where he would be stationed outside the city of Rabbah.
refuse to imagine him pressing her to his heart, kissing her goodbye before a long departure. Am I merely a distraction? I wonder if she misses him already, if she thinks of the dangers he would face.

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