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A quickie-read novelette.
A shipwrecked woman.
The uncharted island.

Jane Porter craves a thrill but when marauders scuttle her ship and she washes ashore onto an island inhabited by animals and one sexy wildman, that’s when the real adventure begins.

Dependent upon her vine-swinging rescuer who acts more ape than musclebound man, she places her survival in his rugged hands and relinquishes her desire to his raw sensuality.

For more seasons than he can remember, Tarzan has lived among the tiny island’s gorilla band. Instinct propels him to save the female he finds half-dead in the surf, but gazing into her eyes, his mating tool dances an ancient tribal beat.

While the pirates search for their bounty, Tarzan and Jane are in danger. To survive, they’ll have to hang onto each other as they swing for dear life. Their adrenaline-rush of passion among the canopy of the jungle threatens not only a dizzying fall from a great height, but also into love.

Series:
Jungle Island
Genres:
Action-Adventure, Contemporary Romance, Erotic Romance, Humorous Romance, and Romantic Suspense
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Other Books In This Series

Reviews

You can Feel, Hear, See the jungle, let alone the Jungle Man!
Ever wondered what it would be like to have sex with a primitive man who has never experienced it before? This is where Fredricks truly excels. The author takes us right into Tarzan’s mind. Just fascinating! I dare any woman to read this and not want to be Jane. Pick up this book if you want a wonderful escape, complete with pirates and primates. A glorious erotic adventure, with a cliffhanger ending that has me panting for more. Luckily, more is to come.
– Loves to laugh

Tarzan retold
Tarzan meet Jane. Jane meet Tarzan. Tarzan makes erotic love to Jane. All the apes applauded. I love this retelling. It’s what Burroughs would’ve written if he could have gotten away with it.
– Kindle Customer

Five Stars
Thoroughly enjoyed this book! Hot and steamy from the get go.
– Cynthia Kimbrough

 

Five Stars
bought the trilogy and loved every one. excellent modern remake of Tarzan and Jane! should be a movie.
– mother of 7

Preview

Chapter One

 A vast body of greenish-blue water stretched as far as the eye could see. Waves breeched the pristine shoreline of the only home Tarzan had ever known. In the dense jungle behind him, primary huffs from family members filled the air with deep organic sound.

As the surf crashed onto the beach in a mighty show of power, another high-pitched scream cut through the froth of angry waves.

Closer this time.

Tarzan deepened his crouch behind the abundant leaves used to line his moon-bed. Curling a finger around a thick stalk, he pushed it lower to study the shore. A blue object floated in the ebb and flow, caught in the sharp barnacles at low tide. The color of sky thrashed in the water, crying out in pitiful mews.

He again scanned the horizon for ships that occasionally ventured too close to his island home. The endless line where water met sky appeared as ordinary as the struggling object was out of place.

A grunt from behind, followed by a gentle bump to his shoulder, warned him to stay wary.

Oohooh,” he grunted in reply, then turned and looked into the worried eyes of Echo, his ape brother. Tarzan lifted his chin to point at a tall tree where bark peeled in long hanging strips. “Oohooh.”

Echo gave a hard stare, then swiftly crossed the short distance to swing up into higher branches using his powerful arms.

After a final sweep of the beach and sea, Tarzan carefully stepped out from the protection of his beloved jungle and onto the warm, soft sand. With silent footfalls, he crept closer to the unknown object. Two arms flailed weakly in the surge and the larger body of water pulled back as another curl formed.

“Help me! Oh my God, help—” Tones of the frantic voice disappeared in the ceaseless onslaught that battered the island.

Human!

Startled, Tarzan straightened from his crouched stance. He moved closer, watching the human’s small hands grab for the flesh-tearing, barnacle-covered rocks. Long hair, the color of the mineral rich mud bordering the pools below the waterfall, flattened against a small skull that reared up, out of the tide. He couldn’t see the human’s face through all the hair, but he heard the unmistakable gasp rent the air.

Before the next surge pushed forward to cover the human’s head, he made a quick decision to help the weakling, who floundered like a newborn gorilla caught in the drag of the sea.

Less than two leaps away, a sharp-pointed fin broke the water’s surface. Drawn by the smell of blood, more would appear in a matter of time.

The stranger lifted a hand out of the water, weaker now, vainly reaching for a source to save him. The arm bore a reddish skin cover sprinkled with tiny yellow flowers that ended below the crook of a delicately boned arm. Colored rocks circled the wrist and a shiny type of silver metal circled the middle finger.

The fin turned with a splash from the meat-eater’s tail. If the human were to survive, Tarzan had to act now.

Avoiding the human’s injured palm, he grasped the small wrist and hoped the bones beneath his tight grip wouldn’t break. Instead of pulling the limp body up, out of the surf, he waited for the next wave to lift the dead weight. Carefully stepping horizontally across the rock and sharp barnacles, he moved away from the dangerous part of the shore. Only when the soles of his feet touched coarse pebbles of shallow water did he move backward to where the sand lay warm and dry.

Safe from the fish that tore meat from the bone, he dropped the thin arm lacking necessary muscle to survive. He stepped back a few paces and crouched on his haunches to watch. Stomach-side down, the small human lay still for so long he feared he’d been too late.

Two thin legs, covered in dark blue to the knees, jerked and twitched. One cough, then another, followed mouthfuls of regurgitated water and a long string of more hacking coughs. The weakling’s arms moved under his chest and pushed at the sand. Turning to flop onto his back, the person lay there taking in great gulps of air and coughing out droplets of sea water. Sand covered a portion of a child-like face; the rest of the features covered by wet, matted hair.

From his huddled position, Tarzan scanned the beach before crab-walking closer to investigate. Curious, he reached his finger forward and slid a hunk of wet hair off the small, pale face.

~*  *  *  *~

Saltwater tore a burning path up her raw throat as Jane coughed and took in another lungful of delicious air.

“My God.” No amount of lozenges could help at this point. Maybe a shot—or five—of the hundred-year-old brandy in her desk drawer at home would do the trick.

No, she’d be better off pouring the stuff over her shredded hand to kill the germs.

Warm sand under her back, hot sun on her face. If the nightmare of the sinking yacht weren’t fresh and foremost in her mind, she could have been at any number of tropical resorts. Damn the pirate crew for leaving her behind, even if she’d been held against her will. Whether or not they were really pirates or a band of human-traffickers, her value as a human was worth more than live bait for fish.

She’d been jarred awake from shouts and the drum of running feet above deck before a dark-skinned man, hardly older than herself, burst into her stateroom and ordered her out at gunpoint. After she’d been shoved overboard, she had no idea what had happened to the evil crew.

As if in a dream, she slowly became aware of a soft stroking at her cheek. Tired…Lord she was tired.

Ooh.”

What the hell was that? A grunt?

Oohooh.”

Fingers, definitely fingers, pushed hard against her cheek, rolling her head side to side. She wanted to tell the asshole to quit poking at her. As soon as she spit out all the sand crunching between her teeth, she’d get right on it.

The finger-poke moved lower into personal space territory. If her nipples beaded in response, then oh well.

A warm, rough palm gently squeezed her left breast. Jane pried her eyes open and blinked away loose sand.

A fully bearded man peered down. Curious brown eyes studied her face, then shifted to where his hand tightened over her breast. His dark-blond hair lay in knots twisted so tight, it would’ve sent her stylist screaming from the salon.

He searched her eyes again, searching for what, she couldn’t say. His hand slid off her boob and skated further south, heading for the same paradise all men pursued. Had she escaped being kidnapped only to find herself possibly raped?

When his palm reached her bellybutton with no signs of slowing, the free-for-all gropefest was officially over.

“Hey! Knock it off.” She moved to bat his hand away, but only flicked him on the end of his nose instead. Her hand fell back to the sand.

Well, at least I tried, she thought.

Uh-uh.”

Great, more grunting.

 

 

 

Chapter Two

 

Judging by her testy mood, the human female appeared unharmed. Her breasts were smaller than the females in Tarzan’s family, though he appreciated her lack of body hair. She’d objected to his familiarization of her human’s form. If she were scared, that could be a reason she’d hit him on the nose.

He backed off two steps, then waited in his crouch to see what she’d do next. Even bad-tempered, the tone of her voice soothed his ears and he wondered if he touched her again, would she make more of the same?

The melody of her mouth-sounds warbled in pitch as though she sang in appreciation of the beautiful day. She repeated the song, staring at him with expectation in the arch of her lowered brows.

A fistful of sand thrown his direction wasn’t what he expected. Tarzan scratched the hair on his chin, the only similarity shared with his ape family. The female’s striking blue eyes snared him in a hypnotic web he didn’t wish to escape.

Her mouth-noise rose in volume as she struggled to sit up. Was she attempting to communicate? She made unfamiliar sounds he didn’t understand.

Behind him in the dense foliage, branches rustled and birds cried out. No doubt Echo reminding him to return to the safety of the jungle. Tarzan ignored his brother and watched the female’s eyes widen as she searched beyond his shoulder. He may not understand her, but perhaps she might understand him.

Oohuh,” he grunted, signing for her to follow him into the jungle and leave the unprotected openness of the beach.

Tarzan turned and knuckle-loped a few paces toward the trees covered with climbing ivy, then stopped and looked back.

She floundered in the deep sand, falling repeatedly to her knees. Finally, she glanced up, her eyes meeting his across the distance. Fatigue dimmed the light of her bright irises as she curled her legs under and sat her hip in the sand. In the full sun, the color of her drying hair lightened, nearly matching that of the windswept sand. The breeze blew strands across her face and she pushed them back with tender, feminine grace.

The females in his family acted the same as this human, both particular about their grooming.

Branches at his back shook with a violent reminder to get back to the protection of the jungle canopy. Over his shoulder, Tarzan threw Echo a glare, then returned his attention to the little female. She’d never make it off the sand before the tide rose higher on the beach, possibly washing her away.

Before he could think twice, or his brother fell out of the tree, Tarzan used his knuckles to lope back and crouch beside her. Digging into the sand to gather her into his arms, he lifted her slight, squawking form and hurried into the cool green forest.

The female squirmed with his alpha male tactics, but once the comfort of thick foliage enfolded them in a blanket of safety, she settled and accepted aid.

A lineup of brightly colored beak-birds abandoned their perch when he rushed past. The female in his arms leaned her head back to follow the birds’ upward flight. The smooth column of her throat lay fully exposed, and he wondered if she realized the submissive act she’d just performed. The hollow at the base of her neck drew his attention, he found the moisture on her skin from the heavy mid-morning air fascinating.

The trail he followed was nothing more than a thin line used by thousands of small four-legged animals, but was as familiar to him as the weave of overhead vines. Before he tripped and dropped her, he’d best watch where he stepped.

Twigs snapped close behind, but he didn’t turn to look. The four-beat thump with deep breathing would be Echo, his best friend and brother. When the trail dove under brush too small for a body his size, Tarzan gazed about for a nearby tree to climb.

“Where are you taking me?”

The soft murmur startled him. To talk when one should be quiet proved the female’s necessity for his protection. He cut his gaze down at her and grunted for silence, once again moved by the color of her eyes.

Echo passed on Tarzan’s left, ambling toward a stout tree layered with ancient bark. The ape’s large hands gripped the coarse wood while his feet propelled his huge body upward.

“Oh, my God.”

Uh,” Tarzan reprimanded.

At the first branch able to hold Echo’s weight, his brother stopped and waited.

“You’re not going up there, are you?”

In the undergrowth on the opposite side, leaves crunched as soft-padded feet stalked closer. No doubt attracted by the sound of her voice. Until she learned to remain silent, the canopy would be her only safe haven.

Tarzan released her legs and swung her lower body around to rest against his back. When she didn’t instantly clamp her thighs around his waist, he grabbed her ankle and wrapped her leg into place. He paused until the softness of her body pressed into his back and her small heels dug into the muscles of his stomach.

Thoughts of her firm breasts filling his palm earlier hardened his mating tool. He’d watched other members of his family openly and frequently mate, then taken himself in hand to relieve his tool’s pressure. Though he’d yet to experience the act with a female, he all too well understood the ritual of mating.

A deep, low growl rumbled from behind him. If he were alone, he’d turn to fight the cat who crept along in hopes of an ambush. But today, with his weak female barely clinging to his back, he’d take to the high branches of safety instead.

Facing the tree, Tarzan bent his legs as he’d been taught.

“Holy shit.”

With a burst of energy, he leaped onto the tree at the same moment the female screamed and her arms tightened their cross-body hold.

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