BOOKS IN THE CHASING TIME SERIES -- The World of PJ Hultstrand

TIME CONQUERS ALL:  Book 1
ISBN: 978-1-936037-04-9
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FROM CHAPTER 7 -- Tamea meets Parker

Tamea took it upon herself to take a small step forward and saluted the King smartly. She was really trying not to stare at the King, finding that she had seen him before somewhere and it was really annoying her that she could not place him. Being such a visual person, she usually remembered people, even if she did not remember their names. But when the King’s full gaze was held onto hers, her mouth went suddenly dry.

Her knees turned to pudding, as she stood transfixed onto the King’s smile as it started at the corners of his mouth and spread up into those beautiful blue eyes. His teeth gleamed unnaturally, she noted, for no man she knew bothered with such care. Tamea did not suppose it was a good time to thank him for his diligence. His smile even exceeded her automatic appreciation for his eyes.

The King reached for her hand again in hopes of compensating for his lack of respect, even though he still felt this young lady was much too young to be a colonel in anybody’s army. The moment his hand touched hers, he felt a jolt of electricity, which crossed between the two of them, and transfixed him to her molten gaze. His emotions stirred in acute intensity as he received the distinct feeling he had met her before.

When the King took her hand, the electrical charge sent emotions and strange stirrings as his memories surged forward into Tamea’s mind; or was she in his mind - she could not tell. She audibly gasped as the surge of his memories made her suddenly remember where she had seen him before. When she could, Tamea inquired, “My pardon sire, but I had not caught your name.”

The King’s smile broadened. He couldn’t explain why it gave him pleasure to reveal his name to her, for it was such a simple thing. He hadn’t let go of her hand, holding it possessively with both hands now, as he held her gaze in a more intimate inclination. He stated smoothly, “I am the one who is sorry for the lack of a proper introduction to a lady. I am King Parker, at your service.”

“Parker?” She demanded him to correct what she just heard since she could not have heard him correctly. He could not be the same man from her vision that morning? She also caught a glimpse of the young man from her dreams for these past months in one of the King’s memories that had insinuated itself into her mind.

His smile was waning under her demanding voice. “Yes, my name is Parker.” He also briefly wondered why she hadn’t been given these details already, for surely she knew Altare’s plan to unite their two royal families in marriage. He searched his memory in vane trying to remember where they had met before.

Tamea searched his eyes for any possible deception and found only intense interest and several other reflected emotions. The heat produced from his possession of her hand seeped up her arm and was flowing down through her body, building up where the butterflies were giving chase.

How long they stood assessing one another was unknown to either of them, but those around them were finding it increasingly uncomfortable just being so close to the heat they were producing. Tamea suddenly became aware of the others when Prince Walker cleared his throat in hopes of gaining their attention.

King Parker heard his brother, but feared losing this wonderful feeling flowing throughout his body. He held onto her hand even when she attempted to pull away. When she looked into his eyes, he could tell she understood his deepest secrets, his ultimate fears and his darkest desires. The heat cascaded down and slammed the breath out of him as the desire overtook him. His darkest desires were intent upon this young woman!

When Walker lightly touched his brother’s arm, Parker snapped back to the moment. He blinked at the young woman now, realizing again just how young she was and here he was sexually connecting to her as if nobody else were watching. He looked down at her hand and regretfully let it go. He would have normally kissed the young woman’s hand, but he couldn’t trust his own lips upon her skin. If a single touch had brought such intense feelings between them, he had no right to tempt fate any further.

RESCUE IN TIME:  Book 2
ISBN: 978-1-936037-03-2

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NEW EXCERPT from CHAPTER Two of "Rescue In Time"

Tamea made it to the Queen's outer chamber without opposition, where she used the dagger she was still holding to rap lightly on the door. She knew her mother had at least one attendant who would be on duty, even at this hour. Her mother was known for being up at all hours of the night. She rapped again because no one was answering, as she peered down the hall again for anyone approaching. The door suddenly opened, she was grabbed from behind and pulled into the room roughly.

Tamea found herself face to face with Commander Jayson. "If you are going to come secretly to your mother's door, next time, do not use a metal weapon to knock," he chastised her immediately. He put Tamea back onto her own footing as he put away his own dagger he had used against her throat.

As he moved away from her, she absently caught a strange scent on him, but lost it when Jayson paused. He stood staring at her and at what she was wearing. He suddenly laughed in male amusement. "Terance did not give you any clothes to wear, young lady?"

"No!" she answered angrily, then smiled and laughed with him as she got a look at herself in her mother's full-length mirror on the wall. "Although I love his sash and plan to keep it for my uniform."

His eyebrows rose when he got a glimpse of the weaponry and other parts of her anatomy beneath the shirt she borrowed. "Good thing you were not seen, or whoever found you would remember you fondly in his wet dreams." He laughed again when she swiped at him with good humor as he shifted out of her arm's reach.

"Good thing most of our guards are women then, unless they look for female companionship, as I know a few of them do," she added, and they laughed together. She wondered what he was doing up here. She looked around in sudden interest. "What are you doing in mother's room at this time of morning, old man?" She attempted to gain information by keeping the moment light and in the tone of humor. She sensed his tension as soon as she asked him. A sudden wariness came and went so quickly in his eyes that nobody but her would have caught it at all.

Jayson suddenly looked older than he had ever looked. "There have been no couriers from the army on their way to the border." She would know what this meant, but he said it anyway. "We are suspecting they were ambushed or they have been engaged on our side of the border."

"Maybe that was the sense of foreboding that woke me. I just knew something happened," she informed him.

"Well, we do not really know yet, Tamea. I am just speculating, but I felt that the Queen should know before dawn comes to bring whatever it will."

"And I thank you Jayson for bringing me the news before it gets around to the council members this morning." They both turned to see the Queen standing in the threshold of her bedchamber, with her assistant in tow.

BATTLE FOR TIME:  Book 3
ISBN: 978-1-936037-00-1
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Now available in Print and in eBook formats

FROM CHAPTER 1 -- Terrance flies off with Captain Reed

Terance sat and looked down into the glass, but found no answers there. “Yes, it is bad,” was about all he could say about it.

Reed drank his glass down and turned to ask Terance, “I’m heading out to check on Walker. Want to come with me?”

“Oh, we got a message from Walker, saying he should be coming in today sometime. He had some hold ups along the way, he said. So, do we still need to go?” Terance sipped his drink, maybe he was not as committed to getting drunk after all.

“Well, we could either go and check on them to make sure there were no more hold ups or stay here and get drunk my friend. I leave it up to you; I don’t care one way or the other. I can get drunk later.” Reed poured himself another and drank that one down as if it was water.

Terance watched the man drink another and wondered how much of the half empty bottle was already in him. “You sure you should be flying after drinking?”

Reed laughed and rebuked, “You sure don’t look like my father and you sure as hell don’t smell like my mother.”

Terance just gave him a pained expression.

“Hell, I do all my best flying when I’m drunk. Learned that from my dad.” He poured himself another and lifted his glass to Terance. “Here’s to your fancy throwing there, my friend,” and he drank the glass down again. Reed could now see two images of Terance sitting at his table and he thought that was quite funny. Laughing himself silly, he asked Terance again, “So, you going up with me, or am I going s-o-l-o?” He said the word ‘solo’ very slowly because he liked the sound of it.

Terance decided it would be more fun than sitting here thinking about Tamea and what Lauder had done to her. He smiled back at Reed and offered, “I will go if you play me some more of that kick ass music of yours.”

“Hell yes! I got some great shit. Not as good as Jimi Hendrix, cause he was ahead of his time. When dad left in 1968, Jimi had just hit the scene and left them all stunned.” Terance had no idea what he was talking about, but went with the flow as he helped Reed get out the door. The young pilot needed guidance because he had tried to go through the door several times and had missed. “Yes, your goanna hear some Cream and we will have to do some Jefferson Airplane with the little White Rabbit.”

“Sounds great.” Terance walked with Reed down the street toward the chopper. He was having second thoughts of going up when Reed had tried to walk the opposite direction from the air pad.

“You get to help fill the tank. It’s had some time to cool,” stated Reed.

They got to the helicopter and Reed showed him what to do. Within twenty minutes the two were starting the engine and Terance was praying Reed wasn’t as drunk as he thought the younger man was. After another ten minutes, Terance was looking out over the night. “Thought we weren’t supposed to go out at night,” he inquired.

“Shit, who the hell we goanna hit? See, that’s what’s so great about flying in our time. Dad said when he learned to fly, he had to get clearance and then follow a flight pattern or else he could accidentally hit some other plane or chopper in the air.” Reed referred to the open sky, “Nobody up here but us and the night birds, my friend.”

SPIRITED AWAY FROM TIME:  Book 4
ISBN: 978-1-936037-01-8
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COMING SEPTEMBER 2011 - BOOK LAUNCH AT COPPERCON IN ARIZONA

FROM CHAPTER 1 -- Tamea and Parker

Parker stood two inches away from her solidly closed body, waiting for her invitation to hold her. She had a fierce spirit that clung to her like a second skin and he planned to give that fire inside her the space it needed to grow and build. He would be her firewall when things got out of hand, but he would never smother or douse the embers. Parker loved that spirit, for it was what made her who she was.

He did not have to wait long, which pleased him immensely. Seeking shelter from his body, drawing her into his waiting embrace, she fit so well against him.

Tamea had felt his warmth behind her first, which quickly grew in intensity. Her need for his heat overwhelmed her body, mind and especially her soul, as it too knew him instinctively. She turned into his embrace, knowing he had waited for her to do the accepting, opening herself to him like a flower to the sun. Tamea loved his quiet patience, even if it was infuriating only moments before. She pressed herself against his solid form, wondering how she had ever done without him. He was her balance in this world.

Like everything she did in her life, she loved him passionately, and his heart swelled with his own need to love her back. Parker ignored his bodies' need for her, focusing instead on her needy soul. Her head fit into the shelter of his shoulder, allowing him the opportunity to sniff into her hair, reeling from the effects her special smell had on him. He bit into his bottom lip, bringing himself back from his erotic thoughts of her and how passionately she had taken him in the barn. He was surprised at the intensity of his need for her, being so soon after there last encounter. Parker kissed the top of her head, smiling at the thoughts of getting her into his bed later that night.

Tamea pulled one arm from around his waist, reaching up to hold his face against her head. Closing on his growing beard, feeling its softening bristle with her fingers, made her want to look at him again in wonder. She had caught his seductive smile before he could hide it from her. She put her fingers in his beard, scratching the sides of his face like a big cat. He closed his eyes, giving in to the pleasure. "When did you grow this?" she referred to his medium blond beard with matching sideburns.

SPIRITED AWAY FROM TIME:  Book 5
ISBN: 978-1-936037-01-8
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COMING SEPTEMBER 2011 - BOOK LAUNCH AT COPPERCON IN ARIZONA

FROM CHAPTER 1 -- Sultan Jahmanan of Bengal

Hatred was now a solid mass, long past its liquid state, where it had swirled and hissed like steam escaping in its untouchable essence. His hatred for Altare and Laie had time and ingenuity backing its development into the black, thickened form he now carried for the two neighboring countries.

Sultan Jahmanan of Bengal viewed his great city of Dacca, the heart of west Bengal, from the wall that opened onto a lush view of the expansive palace gardens and from this level he could also view the city's main bazaar. Although east Bengal did not boast such a grand city, they did have some larger villages on the coast of the Sea of Bengal, which was constantly being threatened of siege by the Portuguese bastards from the Spanish mainland. Sultan Jahmanan thought with contemptuous loathing, how ignorant his brother was in India to allow the Portuguese dogs to bite at the feet of the Hindus, allowing them to seize too much of the southern portion of what could be his country. The Portuguese had their sites on Bengal now, especially its port cities. He hated the Portuguese even more than Altare and Laie combined, which said a lot, since the thickness of his hatred for those two countries could only be cut with a sharp dagger.

One of the rebel fighters kneeled and groveled on the ground behind the Sultan, but the leader seemingly ignored the man. This fighter was the last of the forty-eight band of well-trained men sent to kill Altare's scourge on the earth. Anger brewed under the cool demeanor of the Sultan for this man who was begging for a second chance at fulfilling his mission.

Sultan Jahmanan's mouth twisted cruelly from his thoughts on what he could do with the man at his heals. He spared no glance down at the groveling rebel as he turned and passed him by on his way to his writing desk. Jahmanan wrote some orders for his personal guards in regards to this man who had lost the rest of his rebel force and did not successfully kill a single royal brother of Altare. King Parker and his brothers had already cost him dearly in northern territory taken without a fight from Sultan Jahmanan's father's hands and the cost of the unclaimed war he financially backed.

Answering nobody in particular, Jahmanan handed his guard the orders and stated, "No, I do not think another attempt on Altare's king and his brothers would prove fruitful, because they are as elusive as water in your hands. They just keep slipping through your fingers. No, we will have to go at it from a different angle."

The man groveling on the floor offered up, "What about going after the new Queen of Altare? Surely King Parker would pay anything to get her back."

Now the Emperor spared the man his attention and the man squirmed, wishing he had not said anything, for the view he received of the Sultan's soul was evil, thick with black intensions. "That has already been tried, also with little success. Although I understand the new queen had been scarred for life and had lost the king's first child. That is something positive at least. But your well paid rebel force could not even boast one major cut from your efforts and now you are all that remains from this group." He looked down at the tormented man, pulling his soul away from what would be remaining from the man's tortured body. He stated smoothly, without a shred of compassion, "I am afraid you will have to pay dearly for your entire groups' failure." He snapped his fingers. The man screamed and continued to beg as the guards' drug him away from the Sultan's sight.

Jahmanan smiled in the knowledge of the pleasure to come. He would go down to the dungeons later to view the twisted mass of leftover meat, when they were done sewing the rebel into a dead animal carcass and flayed his chest open to let him bleed and rot. In the days to follow, the Sultan and his friends and family would be gambling on how long it would take the man to die. Sultan Jahmanan usually did very well at guessing how long someone could survive such torments. A kind of natural knack; almost a gift some would say.

He did not bet that this leftover rebel would live very long, because the man was lucky, not hearty. The fighter had been lucky enough to have been trapped under a fallen comrade, which spared his life. The Sultan laughed maliciously at the irony.