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Jamaican Temptation cover Jamaican Temptation

Can you resist?
Genre: interracial contemporary romance
ISBN: 978-0-692-31622-1
Release Date: 06 November 2014

Amazon Kindle    B&N Nook    Apple iBooks    Kobo    print (CreateSpace)

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Jamaican Temptation Beach Party - 11/6/14 on Facebook - 12 - 4 pm EST - prizes!

Determined to forget a childhood full of poverty, Shopaholic Kyra Mays decides to shop for a rich man on her Jamaican vacation. Instead, she meets Justin Lance, a white reggae singer who’s nearly as poor as the orphans he devotes his life to helping. Overwhelmed by his magnetism, she decides to have a fling with him.

All that matters to Justin is being a perfect Rastafarian. Spiritually driven, he vows to avoid succumbing to temptation with the dark beauty at all costs. Unable to keep their hands off each other, they forge a bond that is just as emotional as physical as they explore their differences on the lush island of Jamaica. But Justin’s troubling secret will put their ability to compromise through an impossible test.

Jamaican Temptation - Reviews

Night Owl Reviews - 3.5 stars

...This book had many good elements that made it a good read. The characters were interesting and complex and the setting was fun. I liked seeing Kyra’s character change from money minded to being more worried about people, their personality, and well being. Justin’s growth was remarkable as well...

Full Review

ARRA

...The relationship starts with instant attraction and develops to deep love...The characters will set you thinking about the cultural mix.

Full Review

Jamaican Temptation - NICE Excerpt
Copyright © Afton Locke, 2014 (unedited)

Kyra sipped her yellow, frosty drink when it arrived, tasting pineapple, rum, and sugar. “Just what I thought. Lame. I told you we should have gone to Grand Cayman instead.”

“But Jamaica has more beauty,” Latasha insisted. “Did you see those mountains as we flew in? I already have ideas for at least ten paintings.”

“You’re such an artist. Grand Cayman has a zillion banks. That’s my kind of art.”

“Maybe we can tour a coffee plantation tomorrow,” Latasha suggested. “I want to see the island from up high, and you could meet a rich plantation owner.”

Kyra grinned for the first time since she’d strolled into this boring bar. “Me and a white plantation owner? I’m not so sure I like the sound of that.”

So why did her thighs clench under her black-and-gold striped sundress? She’d fantasized about getting intimate with a white man, but could she actually do it for real? As long as his money was green, she wasn’t too particular about her dream man’s skin color. It paid to have an open mind.

Both women focused on the stage when the band launched into the next song. The reggae beat drifted through Kyra’s body, washing away the frantic rhythm of her life and replacing it with something slower, sexier…. She found herself swaying in her seat as if rocked by an invisible tide.

In addition to the male lead singer, the band included a guy each on drums, keyboard, and bass guitar. A teenaged male swished a flag around. No white men there. Each had dreadlocks or braids of varying lengths.

Wait a minute. The lead singer had paler skin than the others. He was either mixed race or a white guy with a tan. He was so slim and lithe as he swayed to the music he appeared pretty young. Condensation dripped over Kyra’s fingers as she clutched her glass.

When the lights rotated and swept the stage, she caught a glimpse of blue. The lead singer had blue eyes. Come to think of it, his dreadlocks were brown instead of black and not quite as puffy as the others’ hair.

“I’ll be damned,” she muttered to herself. “He is white.”

“Huh?” Latasha asked.

“The lead singer is white.”

“So?” Her friend shrugged. “I don’t think there’s any rule against white people playing reggae.”

That’s not the point. The point is…he’s hot. Damn hot.

He wore a worn, light blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His faded jeans had holes in them and were one step away from the rag bag. Her gaze continued to his feet, finding a pair of biblical-style sandals.

Hardly the rich man she was looking for.

If you want a naughtier excerpt, keep reading...

Jamaican Temptation - NAUGHTY Excerpt
Copyright © Afton Locke, 2014 (unedited)

“You’re even more beautiful than I imagined,” he whispered.

His hungry gaze bathed her with warmth. Clearly, he wanted her more than he ever had. Telling him she’d experienced poverty earlier must have been the magic words. Ever since, he’d looked at her as if they were on the same team…and they could have a relationship. But why? What difference did her background make?

Her thighs trembled in response to his heated stare, anticipating the sensation of his tongue on her folds. Instead of lowering his head, though, he shook it.

“Am I really doing the right thing?” he asked. “I can justify it by saying I’m giving you pleasure, but I can’t help getting pleasure out of it as well.”

Kyra’s jaw tightened as she cupped a palm over her cleft to hide it. “Justin, this back-and-forth business is driving me crazy. A little pleasure isn’t going to make the world end.”

“The Rasta way of life is important to me,” he said. “I have to stay true to my faith every minute of every day, not only when I feel like it.”

She sighed. “I respect that. Hand me my pants, so I can get dressed.”

Instead, he lowered his head. His blue gaze, clear with his decision, sought hers on the way down. Apparently, he planned to continue. A shiver of anticipation she couldn’t have suppressed if she’d wanted to coursed through her.

“Yes, Justin, yes,” she whispered. “It’s all right.”

He kissed the insides of her thighs first, as gently as he’d massaged her feet earlier. His slight beard brushed her tender skin, igniting icy-hot flames everywhere it touched. Devon used to take her fast and hard. Foreplay was usually as compressed as his busy schedule. Closing her eyelids and surrendering to the titillating sensations, she wished Justin had been her first lover.

Maybe her only lover.

He gripped the undersides of her thighs and the bed squeaked as he shifted position. He must mean business. Perspiration broke out across her forehead and she opened her eyes. If he changed his mind, she swore she’d scream.

“I want to feel your hair…on me,” she demanded.

Where had that come from?

Without questioning her strange request, he gripped one of his locks and held it in front of his face with reverence. “Do you know what the dreadlocks signify, Kyra?”

They signify something hot and sexy I want on my body. Now!

“They stand for everything natural and good. No scissors, combs, styling gadgets, or dye touches them. According to the Rasta faith, those things are the work of Babylon.”

Babylon must be the name of her hairdresser because her hair was cut, straightened, and highlighted. Before she could reply, he grasped the end of one lock and brushed it across her mound. It probably went without saying that her bikini wax was also up Babylon’s alley. She watched, breathless, as his hair mingled with the scanty tuft of hers.

Then he lowered the tantalizing lock, brushing it across her clit. She cried out as each of his silky hairs brushed her nerve endings. How could the man be so spiritual one minute and scorching hot the next? The combination was more potent than fire and gasoline.

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Last Updated: 18 April 2017
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