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About the author:
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: Literary fiction, historical fiction, historical romance, biblical fiction, poetry, horror, and children’s books. Thanks to the readers who love the romance novels in her boxed set, A Touch of Passion, it has become the 2016 WINNER of The Romance Reviews Readers' Choice Awards.
What inspired you to write your book?
Lately, despite being an intensely private person, I have found myself increasingly engaged with readers and listeners. Why? because of my characters. Having sprung from my mind onto the page, they might die there, pressed between the front and back covers–unless I make it possible for them to spring from the page to your mind.
I thrive on reaching out to my audience. Every day I discover new ways to create this connection and strengthen it. By far the best way is forging alliances with other authors, whose work is of outstanding quality and whose audience appreciates creativity.
My vision for this Romance boxed set is to bring together the best and brightest authors and offer you a selection of great novels. It is like an assortment of chocolates. Relish the work of the author you enjoy, and then taste new, unfamiliar flavors. The more you take in, the more you’ll feel the awakening of your senses as well as your appetite.
Here is a short sample from the book:
Once I find my way back, my confusion will dissipate, somehow. I will sit down in front of my instrument, raise my hand, and let it hover, touching-not-touching the black and white keys. In turn they will start their dance, rising and sinking under my fingers. Music will come back, as it always does, flowing through my flesh, making my skin tingle. It will reverberate not only through my body but also through the air, glancing off every surface, making walls vanish, allowing my mind to soar.
Then I will stop asking myself, “Where am I,” because the answer will present itself at once. This is home. This, my bench. The dent in its leather cushion has my shape. Here I am, at times turbulent, at times serene. I am ready to play. I am music.
But until then I am frightened, frightened to the point of panic. Even in my daze I sense the eyes of strangers. Their glances follow me down the street. Stumbling aimlessly from one place to another in the darkening city, turning around this street corner and that, I am amazed to realize that every building looks like an exact replica of the previous one. It baffles me, but I tell myself, with an increasingly shaky tone, that I am not lost. I cannot allow myself to think that I am. I will find my way, right after taking a deep breath to regain my calm. Then I will try to separate familiar lines out of this urban chaos.
Perhaps this intersection is not that far away from home. I am trying to map it in my mind, but the street signs are of no help, of course. Reading them has become such a chore lately, forcing me to traverse one garbled letter after another and connect them without forgetting the beginning of the word. I would like to believe that if street signs were written in notes I could play them in my mind. I could make some sense of them, because that is the language I understand. I am music.