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Tommy Valentine’s “Beach Body”
I gotta tell you, I’m excited about these new Tommy Valentine, PI, adventures–“Beach Body,” “Waimea Wiseguys,” “Monkey Punch” and Portland Weird.” There’s something about the Tommy and Babs characters that sets the muse moving. In this third story, the Penns Grove Private Investigators head back to Long Beach Island to investigate the curious death of a Barnegat Light man, washed up on the sand at Beach Haven. Our latest Kindle-only tale includes the usual on-location dining hints, a mad swipe at the Philly Mafia, and a humorous and fun description of liquor and life in West Jersey. “Waimea Wiseguys” is up next, and is expected to be available after our visit to Kauai in January. The remaining two will round out the first season of episodes in the Tommy Valentine series, and will be included in the first season’s anthology, tentatively entitled Monkey Business. You should see the book cover! The anthology will be available in paperback and Kindle versions sometime next spring. Here’s an excerpt of “Beach Body.” “She’s the computer of the house, and the brains between the two of us, because most of the time I’m simply the brawn, the fist in the gym bag so to speak, the mallet in the croquet kit, not that I play but you get the point…” The second in the series, “Jersey Tomato,” is available September 5. Read more…
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“Jersey Tomato” to publish in September
The whole point of a first draft, someone recently posted on my Facebook page, is to see where the story is going. Subsequent drafts decide how to best tell the story. I’m a “pantser,” not a planner, when it comes to most of my writing. So I like that thought. Here’s a peek at my writing desk, where I’m approving galleys for Home Means Nevada, writing the next W. W. Ronin Western, Bathhouse Row, and finishing up the second of the Tommy Valentine, PI short stories, “Jersey Tomato.” This is the draft of the first of three chapters I’ve completed for the latter, set on Long Beach Island, New Jersey. 1 PENNS GROVE I’ve been asked if I’m Tommy Valentine, the golfer. Tommy was—emphasis on the word was—a Gainesville, Georgia man who spent maybe a dozen years on the pro golf circuit, before heading to Gross Pointe Woods, Michigan to coach rich guys how to play a game that’s wrecked a million marriages, and maybe saved a few, not that anyone’s saying. I wouldn’t know anything about the fellow if it wasn’t for my wife, who used to make it a point to keep up with the top-40 pro golf money makers in the late seventies and eighties. Gross Pointe Woods was the only one of the five Gross Pointe communities not to have a spot on Lake Saint Claire’s shoreline, though it has a park I’m told, which is not the same thing. Living in Gross Point Woods means you’re nowhere near the powerboat, sailing and yacht clubs that real Michigan money-makers enjoy, though I’m sure he did alright. Tommy was the Head Pro at the Lochmoor Club on Sunningdale Drive, prior to retiring in December of 2009. He died of cancer five years later, which argues that you should live your life now, goddamnit. Because before you know it you could end up a GOMER—an aged and practically lifeless guy or gal, sucking up someone else’s resources in a big city emergency room. The word is a cruelty, to be sure—healthcare is like that—but when an ER doc pastes the acronym to your personality, she means just that. Read more…
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