In the grand tradition of the great pulps of the ‘50s comes PINE BOX FOR A PIN-UP.
Frankie Valentine just wanted to take girlie pictures. But a jealous woman, a call girl on the make, a dirty cop, and a cross-dressing judge bent on keeping his secret, plunge Valentine into a world of murder, badger games gone wrong, blackmail, burlesque, and violence…
Also includes GRIFT’N’GRIND a Frankie Valentine short story.
Find out more about Frank here.
The cover was painted by Jason Smith.
The following is a sample:
The buxom brunette shed her top and flung it at me playfully. It didn’t stop there.
“Let me get more comfortable,” she said, wriggling out of the bottom half of her little leopard-print number. It was just as well; trying to contain her ample pulchritude was a losing battle. So was trying to keep my cool. She busted me mid-stare and winked. I fumbled with my camera and almost dropped it. She let out a little laugh. She’d no doubt seen men come unglued before. I was no different despite my name; it’s Valentine, Frankie Valentine. I take pictures of beautiful girls.
You’d think after all the undressed pretty things I’d photographed over the years I’d be able to keep a cool head. But Vickie Hayes was something else and a half, a solid sender, a primo bombshell with a body that defied gravity. Her hair was shiny and jet black; her smile shone pearly white as it competed for attention with her dimples. At barely five feet tall, she was an abbreviated little firecracker, firmly packed and stacked into a 36-24-36 package.
I tried my best to un-blush and collect myself. I popped in a fresh roll of film and got back to it. Vickie vamped, posed and flirted with the camera as I fired away. I bounced one hot light off an umbrella to counter the mysterious shadows of the diffused key light positioned directly at her side. It gave her an eerie luster and seductive appeal. With every click of the shutter she effortlessly assumed a new pose. She needed no direction. I didn’t have to say a thing, she read my mind. If I could just manage to keep it together and hold down the technical end, these were going to be some amazing photographs; hell, they were practically taking themselves. You just couldn’t go wrong with a model like this. I was already planning our next session—and perhaps my next move. It was worth a shot; she seemed to like me. I couldn’t wait to see her again.
But this was the last time I’d ever see Vickie Hayes…alive.
Available as a Trade Paperback and eBook.