Her name is Patti Hultstrand and she is the author of the Time Chaser Series.
The sound you hear in the distance are the firecrackers of the fourth proudly announcing the VBT guest of the day.
Patti Hultstrand, the stage is yours!
Inspiration in writing ...
One doesn't get up in the morning and say, "Think I'll write today." A person becomes inspired by those around them or by what has been done to them.
· The teenager with too many emotions to handle, becomes inspired to put these thoughts on paper to get them out of their head before they explode.
· The mother writes something in between the potatoes and the pot roast on her organized grocery list because that inspiration is overflowing in her creative mind, spilling into this world in a need to get free.
· The tire&auto repair station attendant sits in the restroom stealing whatever moments he can to write just a few more lines on that short story he's been working on for months.
· And a lonely woman writes about a man; the man that never came to take her away from her lonely life.
I know when I haven't been writing enough, when I write an email note to someone and it winds up being a page long, with anecdotal tidbits and just plain good stuff being said. The shame of it is, only the email recipient will ever get anything out of my inspirational moment.
It's said that everyone has at least ONE story inside them. As it happens to be, I have over twelve planned for this Time Chaser series alone, with "Time Conquers All" being the first book out in 2009 and its follow up second book, "Rescue in Time" coming out in about two weeks.
If you have that ONE story inside, you may want to let that story get out and onto paper. You'll know its name...call it YOUR inspiration!
The low rumble from behind startled her, just as the foreign surroundings put her senses on full alert. With a dagger already in her hand, Tamea quickly turned to meet this new threat while the sound grew in intensity. As the ground beneath her growled in anticipation, she noticed a bend in the road, next to a building clearly marked “GAS.” These vibrations, in the form of forty or more machines with people riding singly and in pairs, invaded onto the property.
Since Tamea harbored a general curiosity for all machines, she did not fight the compulsion to follow the direction her instincts dictated. She squinted to get a better look at the metallic apparitions as the sunlight bounced off the surfaces. Even though she had no first-hand experience with these machines, she did not seem to fear them. Something had called to her from her past, back to this building and these machines.
Tamea sheathed her dagger at the small of her back, as she made her way across the street. Some of the riders remained outside attending to their machines, while others had gone inside the building. She examined the machines, wanting to touch their smooth and glistening forms. They were different shapes and sizes, but most seemed to bear the same name and symbol, a shield with a banner across the middle. She wondered if this symbol signified their country, bearing its name, much like a military unit.
She scanned the machines, each in turn, gliding through their presence. Tamea felt a prickle on the back of her neck as she passed one particular machine. Moving back to it, the compulsion grew to an intense desire to touch its deep burgundy finish. Her pulse quickened and her instincts grew more aware. She could not explain why a machine would make her giddy with excitement. She was devouring the machine as she would a man, taking in its features with her eyes and feeling its textures with her fingers in a form of communication as old as time. There had been only one man she had ever scrutinized in this manner, getting to know his intimate details and communicating with her fingertips in place of words.
Then her heart skipped several beats when she came upon more identifiable markings on this machine. Under the national symbol of HARLEY-DAVIDSON was a name in light gray lettering, “PARKER”. Her fingers followed each letter as if they were embossed on her heart.
“You know, it’s considered rude to touch someone’s bike without permission,” a man said in an even tone, not giving away how he really felt about the implied offense.
Tamea swung around in surprise as her hand moved quickly to the dagger stashed at the middle of her back. She found him standing behind her with a glass bottle in his hand. Her lips parted slightly at the familiar sight of his face, with those endless blue eyes that could look deep into her soul. Even though she knew every crevice of his body, she had not been prepared for the attack on her senses. His blue pants seemed glued to his muscular thighs. He allowed her the pleasure of following his lines up his backside as he walked past her to throw out the empty bottle.
The dangling fringe attached to the edges of his black jacket moved freely as he turned and moved back to his bike. Wavy, sandy-blond hair softly touched the nape of his neck. His hips were lean and his body flared up into an expansive chest.
Tamea’s hand had been frozen on the partially extracted dagger in the hidden sheath at her lower back. She secured the weapon as she moved out of his way so he could swing one of his muscular legs over the bike, straddling it possessively between his thighs. At that moment, Tamea craved to be that bike.
For ordering information, please consider the following:
Order direct from the publisher for FREE SHIPPING http://www.azpublishingservices.com/BookStore.php
Order from Amazon and you will pay for shipping here. http://www.amazon.com/shops/azpublishingservices
Also available on Kindle
For a longer list of eBook and print distribution points go to: http://www.timeconquersall.com/
There is a character blog on timeconquersall.com website.