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Karibu Heat

A Contemporary Ménage
Available now

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Tropical series Book #2

Standalone sequel to Kabana Heat

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 P.R. agent to the famous Hollywood celebrity that Anjelee has blackmailed, Jager's loyalties lie with his employer.

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 Karibu heat and entangled in the couple's hedonistic web of lust.

Reader Advisory: This book contains scenes of threesomes including hawt-hawt male/male and male/female/male island romps.

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Karibu Heat

© 2012 Titania Ladley

Note: Karibu Heat is a standalone follow-up to Kabana Heat; it can be read first or last. It introduces the unlikely love story of two of Kabana Heat's secondary characters, Jager Manning and Anjelee Montrose. Sparks flew between them in Kabana Heat, but later, on the nude-only naughty island with Karibu Resort's antics, those sparks ignite into an all-out explosive menage relationship. Sultry, scorching and forgotten inhibitions...you have been warned.  :)

           Book 1                             Book 2


Karibu Heat

An Excerpt From: KARIBU HEAT

Copyright © TITANIA LADLEY, 2012

All Rights Reserved

Chapter One

Jager Manning stepped from the resort’s boardwalk onto the nude-pool deck, his jaw clenched. Despite the breeze whipping in 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 natural 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 at the far end whooping and squealing 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.


Bare breasts 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 pinŕ 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 a 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.


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 I.D.’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 of 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 little 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-uh, 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 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.

Unbelievable. Either there was a God, or Satan lived on in her. The woman exuded pure sexuality. Naughty as sin.

But irrelevant.

“Um, don’t you think I should be asking you that question?”

With a gymnast’s grace, she vaulted up to a standing position. Her left arm covered her small but full breasts. He considered that ironic given she vacationed at a nude resort and had just been practically spread-eagled for the whole island to devour, yet she played coy when his gaze was on her.

So the fuck what? He didn’t give one shit. He’d just as soon choke her than get a free visual tour of her tight little body.

Really. He would.

His gaze, though, seemed to have a brain of its own. It dropped to her suntanned, smooth labia. It was with that delicious image filling his mind that Anjelee slapped her other hand between her legs and growled in outrage. She cupped her mound in such a modest way it made Jager snort. But goddamn if he didn’t long to yank her into his arms and kiss her silly while running his fingertips down between her—

Stop it, you stupid fucker. She’s the enemy, a lying, thieving sneak who’ll single-handedly ruin your entire career if you don’t get a grip. Besides, she’s not really your type.

He conjured up all the various women he’d had relationships with in the past—lawyers, models, movie stars, real estate investors, even a hot young female minister.

No, Anjelee’s definitely not his type.

Her body trembled with rage. She smacked her hands onto her petite hips and ground out through clenched, perfect white teeth, “You creepy, spying jerk. You followed me.”

He had to shake the fog from his head in order to shift his gaze from her beautiful pussy, which she’d just bared again, to her flaming eyes. “Well, you didn’t exactly join the Witness Protection Program, now did you?”

She stuck out her pierced tongue. “Funny. No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, I know. The P.I. I hired came pretty cheap since he was able to follow your blatant electronic trail in a matter of minutes. Your name, in connection with Jamaica and this hedonistic Karibu resort you decided to spend all of Mitch’s money at, drew a lot of database hits in spite of your lame effort to rename yourself. Bam.” He mimicked punching a computer-keyboard button. “‘There she is,’ the P.I. says. So naturally, here I am.”

“Naturally?” Her plump lips curled up in a snarl. Her gaze raked him with sharp blades of distain. “Um, for one thing, you’re unnatural in that, besides the staff, you’re the only one here with clothes on. And for another thing, a man following a woman he barely knows halfway across the world is anything but natural. In fact, it’s a bit stalker-ish.”

He ignored a surge of temper and leaned closer. The coconut scent of her tanning lotion filled the narrow space between them. “Stalker-ish? Ya think? Huh, and that coming from a member of the oh-so non-stalker-ish paparazzi who trespassed, climbed up on a fucking rooftop, took intimate, unauthorized pictures of…some people, and then blackmailed those very people. Yeah, that’s non-stalker-ish if I’ve ever seen it. By the way, if you had any geography smarts at all, you’d know it’s not halfway across the world from L.A. to here.”


“Okay, I’ll concede.” He disregarded her childish retort and bent in closer still, trying like hell not to drown in the big pools of her eyes or the warmth of her body. “You’re damn right I’m stalking you. In fact, I’m going to stalk you all the way to goddamn prison.”

She gasped, her pretty little mouth forming an O of indignation. “Prison?”

“Yes, prison.”

 KARIBU HEAT now available!

Download for FREE at B&N, Diesel, Smashwords, Sony, Amazon Kindle, etc.


5 Stars!

"This story should come with a heat warning." ~ hrhsophia for Smashwords


4 Stars!

"Loved this book, lots of hot steamy scenes." ~ Carolee for Goodreads via Sony Ebookstore


5 Stars!

"This story should come with a heat warning." ~ hrhsophia for Smashwords


5 Stars!

"Steamin' hot! I've never been disappointed with one of Ms. Ladley's books, and this one is no exception. Smoking hot sex, great characters, heat-tugging emotion. You'll find all of these and more in this book. ~ B.L. Woodward, Amazon



4.5 Stars!
"Book me one ticket to Karibu Island please!!! Karibu Heat is one of the most amusing and arousing books I’ve read, and I read a LOT of books! Karibu Heat is the “loosely connected” sequel to Kabana Heat, and can certainly be read as a standalone book thanks to Ms. Ladley’s great insertion of back-story facts. I want to eat Jager and Keefer up. They are both such strong and fierce Alpha males with good hearts. Anjelee is such a cool cat too: sexy, hilarious and super family oriented but with an incredible wild streak... And the sex scenes…delicious! Karibu Heat packs a punch with a great story, unlikely heroine, super incredible sex and a sweet outcome that may make you “Awwwww!” out loud." ~ Silla Beaumont for Just Erotic Romance Reviews



4 Stars!

"Loved this book, lots of hot steamy scenes!" ~ Carolee for Goodreads


4 Stilettos!

"I got a ticket to paradise, next stop Karibu Island…woot…woot! If you enjoy a sensually hot, menage romance the pluck at your heart strings then pick-up Karibu Heat. Titania Ladley is like a good wine, she is to be sampled slowly, as the heat builds so does the flavor." ~ Deb, HEA Romances With a Little Kick



Download for FREE at B&N, Diesel, Smashwords, Sony, Amazon Kindle, etc.


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