Kabana Wild and Jamaica Wild
Tropical Duets # 1 & 2
By: Josie Jax
Releasing March 1, 2016 and April 5, 2016
Loose ID
Link to Follow Tour: HERE
Blurb for Kabana Wild: Tropical Duet #1 Release Date: March 1, 2016
Kabana Wild
Tropical Duets
Three people...three depraved plans...one inferno of scandalous pleasures.
Movie star Mitch Wulfrum is tired of deflecting the gay rumors buzzing around him. It's time for drastic measures to suppress them once and for all--even if it means marriage in name only to the first trophy wife he can get his hands on. And beautiful sugar-cane princess Kiona 'Alohi fits right into his plan.
Kiona can't believe her luck when she's presented with Mitch's proposition. Her overbearing father is dangling her trust fund over her head as an enticement to dump her oh-so-sexy, but oh-so-unsuitable lover, Nakolo. A bogus marriage to Mitch will net her everything she wants--money and love, even if she can only have Kol on the sly.
What she doesn't expect are the sexual sparks that fly between her and Mitch, or, when Kol catches them together, the heat that flares between the two men. One scandalously pleasurable encounter after another fans the flames of attraction, until they begin to dream that all three of them could have everything they ever wanted--and more than they ever expected.
An intricate, fragile web of lies and deceit are all that keep their wanton secrets from erupting into the public eye. Trouble is, one scheming photographer named Anjelee has already clicked the shutter that could ruin all their lives.
Kabana Wild: Tropical Duet 1 by Josie Jax
He thirsted for her as always, but how to get his final fill of her in this cramped little sports car?
Nakolo, the sunroof… It was as if Pele whispered the solution in his ear.
“Stand up,” he ordered.
“S-stand up?”
“You heard me. Stand up. Remove your shoes, plant a foot on each seat, and stand up so your top half is through the sunroof.”
Her mouth fell open, and a sound that resembled a wheeze tore from her throat. He watched as she blinked, scanned the inside of the car, and looked up through the sunroof. Nakolo knew the precise moment understanding dawned on her.
For a full thirty seconds, she stared deep into his eyes, her own tearing up. She finally understood his desperation and intense desire to have her, to reclaim what was his after seeing her with another man.
Kiona twisted, assuring the car remained in park, and removed her shoes. She reached for the sunroof’s edge and pulled herself to a standing position. She was a tall woman, and it was a small car, so with her feet placed as wide as she could get them on each front seat, the roof came to waist level.
She set her elbows and forearms on the roof and leaned on them. “I’m ready,” she whispered down to him.
He scooted forward and drew up her dress, stuffing the front hem beneath the garment’s waistband. And there it was, her jewel—his jewel. Nakolo’s mouth watered, and his balls throbbed, engorging like a balloon ready to pop.
“Hemolele! Mmm, my love, you are so gorgeous, so”—he swiped his tongue up her slit, eliciting a scream from her—“delicious.”
The flavor of cream and faint salt burst in his mouth. Holy islands, she was wetter than the sea. He drew back and studied her toned thighs and the top of the V they held dear. Except for a small patch of dark curls above her clit, she always kept her pussy shaved for him so he could feel her silky lips on his tongue or encircling his shaft. The labia were smooth and naturally tanned, her nub pink and swollen, emerging at the top of her cleft like the early bloom of a hibiscus. God, what perfection!
Nakolo couldn’t delay any longer. He wrapped his arms around her hips and reached behind her. Sinking one finger into her dripping-wet puka, he closed his mouth over her swollen bud.
She screamed again, this time far louder. He heard her hands slap the roof and rejoiced when her voluptuous body spasmed in his arms, against his face. He flicked his tongue over her clitoris while gazing upward through the sunroof. She was like a siren of the sea. He watched as the Pacific winds blew inland, tossing her hair in a wild mass, her breasts perky mounds, her face contorted in ecstasy.
Her pelvis did a swiveling dance, abrading over his face. She growled, reaching for that pinnacle that always came so easily for her. Nakolo pumped his finger faster, adding another, then a third. She spread wider, accommodating him, coating his fingers with her stickiness. With his tongue, he thoroughly explored every fold, crease, and little bulge, knowing the time would come very soon when he would have to yank her down into the car and plunge himself into her.
She was almost there, he could tell by the stiffening of her dance and the animal mewls escaping from deep in her throat. But somewhere in the sexual blur of his mind, Nakolo heard the hum of a car engine. He whipped his head around to see a sleek Mercedes pull up behind Kiona’s car.
“Goddamn it,” he swore when he saw none other than Mitch Wulfrum—the damn movie star—unfold himself from the driver’s seat and stride toward Kiona’s car.
Kiona’s windows were darkly tinted, so most likely Mitch couldn’t see Nakolo. If Mitch had spied Nakolo’s truck back at Jager’s house, he’d probably know Nakolo sat in her car. But if he hadn’t peered out the window at Nakolo’s boyish antics, Mitch wouldn’t know whose truck it was and might assume Kiona was alone and the truck abandoned.
Not knowing one way or the other added an edge of excitement to the unexpected situation. Nakolo’s loins simmered with reluctant fire. Did he want to be discovered or not?
As Mitch approached the driver’s side, Nakolo studied the strikingly handsome face, the tall, lean body…and the bulge in the jeans Mitch now wore. Nakolo swore under his breath. Why was it he found the sight of this man sauntering nearer so very arousing while Kol orally pleasured Kiona? Where had his anger gone? And why hadn’t he demanded an explanation from Kiona about her tryst with this man before Kol had dived right into satisfying his sexual urges?
“Mitch, what are you—what are you doing here?” Kol heard Kiona choke out.
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Kabana Wild is the first part of the Tropical Duet by Josie Jax, a new author to me. Set in Hawaii, this novel is a standalone.
Kiona is the CEO of the family business but her domineering father Heloki very much financially controls his daughter, who loves Nakolo (Kol). He disapproves of the relationship and spitefully sacks Kol from his foreman job because of his involvement with Kiona. To gain financial independence from her father, a plot's formulated to meet the criteria for Kiona to gain access to her trust fund, only this proposal turns out to be way more than Kiona ever envisaged.
Mitch Wulfrum is a Hollywood heartthrob who is trying to deflect the press away from persistent rumours that he is gay. Thanks to Jager Manning his publicist, it's decided he needs to get married to quash the negative publicity. A plan's hatched, yet details become complicated once Mitch meets the woman he is to marry.
I liked the premise of the plot a lot...a proposed marriage of convenience with both parties gaining from the legal arrangement. The idea's orchestrated by Jager Manning, who's not only Mitch's publicity manager but Heloki's PR manager. The contract has clauses that make this sham more intriguing. Kiona wants to continue her relationship with Kol and be a trophy wife for Mitch! Secrets are revealed which could jeopardise the whole proceedings.
I liked the inclusion of the Hawaiian words to add authenticity to the plot setting, but would have preferred less of them to avoid flicking to the glossary until my brain has familiarised itself with them! The author's writing style is sexy and imaginative, however, I'd like to have experienced more character development between the protagonists and Kol to gain a greater understanding of why they think a ménage is a solution to their dilemma, especially due to the legal binding of their contracts.
The story ends with a happy for now for the protagonists. Overall, Kabana Wild is a fun, sexy quick read...a perfect beach/pool book for a hot Summer day.
***arc generously received courtesy of publisher Loose Id LLC via Tasty Book Tours***
Jamaica Wild: Tropical Duet #2
Release Date: April 5, 2016
Jamaica Wild
Tropical Duet
Hiding in plain sight at a nude Caribbean resort with her best friend Keefer seems to be the perfect plan for paparazzi photographer Anjelee while she awaits the blackmail funds to hit her offshore account.
But her plans go awry when Jager tracks her to sultry Karibu Resort and threatens to extradite her back to the U.S. and see her imprisoned for her crime. As PR agent to a famous Hollywood celebrity who Anjelee has blackmailed, Jager's loyalties lie with his employer, movie star Mitch Wulfrum.
Or do they?
As soon as Jager steps foot onto the anything-goes island and sees the gorgeous Anjelee and handsome Keefer living it up in the buff, it's as if Jager's been drugged. Before he can get Anjelee in handcuffs and haul her back to jail where she belongs, Jager finds himself smoldering in the Jamaican heat and entangled in the couple's hedonistic web of lust.
Jager Manning stepped from the resort’s boardwalk onto the nude-pool deck, his jaw clenched. Despite the breeze whipping off the Caribbean Sea, perspiration coated his forehead. His nostrils flared with his rapid breathing. But he didn’t give a devil’s damn if he looked like a hissing cobra prepared to strike. He would find her, and he would tear her apart with fangs of lethal venom if it was the last thing he ever did on this earth.
His fingers curled into tight fists. No, make that, he would find her, and he would kill her with his bare fucking hands.
He scanned the stone structure of the outdoor restrooms that divided the au naturel area of the resort from the clothing-optional section. A tinkling waterfall tumbled behind the building into crisp blue waters of a huge figure-eight-shaped swimming pool. His gaze briefly touched on each of a dozen naked people, whooping and squealing at the far end during a game of pool volleyball, but none of them were her.
No, he could never mistake anyone else for her.
He didn’t want anyone else.
He wanted her.
Dead.
Bare-breasted women of all shapes and lovely sizes floated and bobbed in the water, but it didn’t faze him. Hell no. He was on a mission and not to be sidetracked, even by droves of hot, buck-naked chicks.
He darted a look at the swim-up bar and grill to his right. A thin Jamaican man in a bright-red floral shirt and black shorts stood behind the grill, whistling and flipping burgers. Jager’s stomach growled. His flight had only included a snack, so it’d been over seven hours since he’d last eaten anything of substance, yet even the enticing sizzle and meaty aroma couldn’t detour him from his course.
To find that scheming, thieving bitch, Anjelee Montrose, and throttle her from here to the goddamn moon.
His searching stare shifted to the buxom female bartender as she slid a piña colada across the tiled bar toward a buff, tattooed male. Reggae music blared from the overhead speakers. At the man’s good-natured, overtly sexual thanks, the bartender threw her head back and laughed. She gyrated her voluptuous hips to the catchy island tune and flung her long dreds over one chocolate-toned shoulder.
Jager skimmed a quick look across the pool in the direction of an accented female voice typical of those residing on the small island of Karibu just off Jamaica’s southern coast.
“Left hand green.” One of the resort’s entertainment emcees held a colorful cardboard spinner in her hand and a microphone in the other. She glanced toward a group of bodies entwined on the plastic, dotted game board opposite the pool deck from where Jager stood. There was no mistaking the game.
Twister.
Naked Twister.
His gaze took hungry inventory. He searched for Anjelee amid the tangle of male and female limbs, asses, tits and dangling cocks and scrotums.
Then he saw her. Her husky laughter and pale-blonde, pink-striped hair positively ID’d Anjelee. Her toe-touch position caused her long locks to drape over the rear of another equally blonde woman, but it was the sight of that tight little bare rump sticking up in the air that had him stalking around the pool’s perimeter. His carotid pulse beat high in his neck, whooshing up to echo like a bongo drum in his head. He didn’t take his eyes off her even as he weaved his way around lounge chairs, beach bags, and couples engaging in varying displays of affection.
“Oh, yeah, there you go, baby.” At the nearby male voice, Jager glanced downward toward three people in a clench near the pool’s waterfall. The woman moaned while being sandwiched between two men.
Holy crap. Make that displays of all-out sex.
A dark-skinned, attractive woman in a security uniform emerged out of nowhere and trailed close on Jager’s heels. “Excuse me, mon, but you can’t—”
He held up a hand and cut off the voice of apparent authority.
Nothing and no one could stop him at this point. He couldn’t wait to curl his fingers around Anjelee’s smooth neck, to drag her kicking and screaming back to the States. He longed to watch as the prison bars slammed shut in front of her impish little stunned face. Her green cat-eyes would snap with fury while he laughed his ass off at the spoiled fit she’d no doubt throw once she realized she’d finally been caught.
Jager neared, keeping his gaze trained on her upthrust rear. His mouth watered involuntarily. “Uh-huh, don’t look, you fool,” he mumbled to himself. “No matter how good she looks, she’s not going to distract you from getting even and getting justice for Mitch.”
He stopped directly behind her and raked his stare over the tanned arch of her spine, down along the tight buttocks and shapely legs. Against his will, his eyes riveted back up and zeroed in on the moist slit glistening in the sun.
Jesus Christ, help him.
“Right foot red,” the emcee ordered.
“Red? Oh, shit.” Anjelee let out a giggle of delightful protest, but she twisted obediently into a crabwalk pose.
He waited the endless beat for her to look up and spy him.
Finally, her eyes met his. It delighted the hell out of him when her pupils focused on him in recognition. She blinked, and her tanned, heart-shaped face scrunched momentarily, her stunning eyes finally widening with astonishment.
Jager braced himself for the electricity of her bright-green gaze. Once the power of it leveled out and dissipated in his system, he inhaled and crossed his arms. “Hello there, Anjelee.”
“What…? What are you doing here?” She clamped her thighs shut, but not before he got a full-on view of her shaven pussy lips and the pierced hood above her clitoris.
Josie Jax is the new pseudonym for a USA Today bestselling author of erotic romances in various genres. She lives in the Midwest and dreams of becoming a crazy cat lady by rehabbing an old barn into a fancy mansion for stray cats and stranded kittens.
Please visit Josie’s website or feel free to email her at josiejax1@gmail.com.
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