EXCERPT FROM PLAYING FOR KEEPS BY JAYDYN CHELCEE

Good Morning Readers,
Today I thought you might enjoy an excerpt from Playing For Keeps, book four in the Montana Men series coming soon from Moongypsy Press. This excerpt is Rated-R for language. If you're under 18, please leave this site and do not read excerpts....Thank you and Happy Holidays to all,

Jaydyn Chelcee/Tabitha Shay

ALL MATERIAL IS COPYRIGHTED AND THE PROPERTY OF AUTHOR AND MOONGYPSY PRESS.

EXCERPT/PLAYING FOR KEEPS/CHELCEE

He flinched when he felt the wet warmth trickle down his arm. He stifled a curse. Moving around had caused the knife wound to start bleeding again. Earlier, he’d packed the site with some four-by-four gauze pads he carried in a first aid kit under the seat, but the wound needed suturing, front and back.


Tired, Duel rubbed a hand down his face. At this rate, he was going to bleed to death. He had to get somewhere and get the injury sutured. First things first. In seconds, he’d taken care of watering the bushes and returned to the car.

“Who are you?” she asked immediately. “Or rather, what are you? Are you an assassin? Black ops? Secret agent? CIA?”

“Yes.”

Her eyes bugged. “You’re going to kill me?”

“Probably. I’m thinking about it.” From the look on her face, she believed him. Duel snorted. “Look lady, I think you’re more apt to kill me, and damned near succeeded with that fucking butcher knife. Do you wanna pee or not? Otherwise, we’re outta here, and I’m not stopping again until the car needs fuel.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“I need to...you know, but not with these handcuffs on.”

“They aren’t coming off for any reason.”

“Then you’ll have to wipe me, I’m not drip drying.”

“Jesus Christ. All right. I’ll take off the friggin’ cuffs, but you try anything funny, I’ll knock your lights out again.”

She muttered something about the legitimacy of his birth. In spite of the headache settling between his eyes, Duel grinned and fished the key to the cuffs from his shirt pocket. He got back out of the car, circled the hood and opened her door. “Turn around and face me.” He guided her out of the car and helped her steady herself.

She shuddered when her bare feet hit the icy ground. “Ouch.”

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s something in my right foot.”

“Something?”

“I stepped on something in my back yard. A piece of glass, I suppose.”

“What happened to your shoes?” He unfastened the cuffs and pointed in the general area he wanted her to go.

She limped a short distance, paused, and hiked her straight skirt up past her knees. “Turn around.”

Duel folded his arms across his chest though it hurt like hell. “Huh-uh. I’m not turning my back on you even for a second.”

“What can I do?” she argued. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. I have no shoes, no coat. I’m not totally insane. And I cannot pee with you watching.”

He massaged his forehead. "You better make water and make it fast." Impatience threaded his voice. “I hear any other sound but running water coming out of you I’ll be on you like weeds in a flower bed.”

“Good grief, there are other bodily functions, you know, besides making water.”

“You know what I mean. I’m talking about escape noises, like running through the bushes, not―not―you know―explosive little gas noises.”

“You need to let me go. When my brother gets finished with you, you won’t have a strip of hide left on you.”

“Your brother? Lady, I’m shaking in my boots.”

“Do you have any idea who I am? Who my brother is?”

“Does this look like a face that cares? No, I don’t know who your brother is. And I don’t care who you or your brother are. Get your business done and stop stalling. No one is coming to rescue you.”

Flayme shivered. Goose bumps stood up on her arms. He was probably right. Her brother wouldn’t give her the time of day, let alone try to have her rescued. She eyed her captor’s broad shoulders as he reluctantly turned his back. She waited a moment to make certain he wasn’t going to make any sudden moves, then she slid the thong down far enough so she could pee. “I need tissue.”

“No. Are you finished?”

“Yes, but I told you, I’m not drip drying. That’s just…yucky.”

“Get your drawers up and come on. I’m tired. I wanna get a couple hours shut-eye before we hit the road again.”

“My drawers? Jesus. Give me some tissue or I’ll take out squatter’s rights right here all night and…and…drip-drip-drip.”

Duel muttered, took the few steps to the car and reached inside for several tissues. Dammit, he knew better than to let her out of his sight. The instant he reached inside the car he heard the gravel crunch under her feet. He came around and gave the dark a hard look. Yep. Sure enough, there she went, hobbling toward the edge of the woods like a damned one-legged spider.

Count Down!

Hi Readers,
I don't know bout you, but I'm counting down the hours until Witch's Magic is released. Sept. 7, boy has that been a long time getting here, or what? I hope all of you who have been keeping up with the Winslow witches of Saylym series are as excited as I am with its upcoming release. Just to whet your appetite, I'm posting a teaser...WARNING:MOST LIKELY CONTAINS ADULT CONTENT.

EXCERPT/WITCH'S MAGIC/BOOK FOUR/SHAY

She scraped his right nipple with a long fingernail. “So sexy,” she whispered. “I want to taste you.”
“Taste me, then. Do what you will.”
Oh, to feel her naked beneath his body, feel his cock push through the hot, velvety muscles of her feminine channel, each layer surrounding his aching shaft until he was buried deep within her honeyed sheath.
It wasn’t to be.
From the look on her face, she wasn’t here for him to sex her. No. The deadly intent in her eyes was easy to read. The ugly thing she held in her small hands looked ominous. Potentially lethal. Scary as hell!
His pulse jumped, pounded fiercely. Sweat dampened his face. This was it then. The end. “No!” The word slipped past his lips from deep within his undead body, a furious growl of denial that she would do this terrible thing to him.
His heart squeezed out the next painful beat.
“You said do what I will. I will this.”
You cannot do this!
I can. I will.
Terror clenched his muscles. Before where he’d been restless, now Valerian remained stone still, paralyzed as if he’d been bitten by a Shun-Rock Spider from his home world of Pi-Ram.
He knew what came next. The horror of it froze him as nothing else.
Then she committed the worst act of his nightmare, the one that sent chills down his icy flesh and solidified his already sluggish blood. She placed the sharp-tipped of wooden stake on his bare chest, directly over his heart. Her laughter was no longer happy or sweet, sunny or warm, but cold and cruel and ruthless. He saw no mercy in her lovely eyes, only merciless determination.
The needlepoint tip pierced his flesh. His mouth flew open with the shock of it. So sharp. So sharp! Valerian tried to scream, but no sound moved past his lips. The pain crushed, as if his chest was weighted with stone. His heart raced at such a high speed, he thought it might explode.
Frozen in a place somewhere between his world and hers, he couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. Held captive by the magnetic force of her cruel gaze, he watched the hammer swing down, felt the deadly stake pierce his chest and drive through his heart.