Beach House Tramp


“You must be in a pretty big hurry,” McCord called to the girl. “You’ve forgotten to dress…”

A tantalizing, honey-lush blonde hellion, she fled from her motel shower into the arms of Wes McCord, bringing promises of passion and of a fortune in stolen loot. Then, with one flick of her petal-soft hips, she dragged him through a nightmare maze of speedboats, fists and kill-crazy hoods in a corpse-studded manhunt and treasure search that seared Florida’s Gulf Coast far worse than any tropic sun…


Surf Pack Assassins


They Lived for Sin, Sun, and Sudden Death

They were a wild groups of young Americans on a surfing and sex binge that had taken them halfway across the world — and lurking among them was a Red killmaster out to trigger a three-continent orgy of subversion and murder. Then a Yank undercover man infiltrated their treacherous ranks, moving up a girl by girl, thrill by thrill ladder in search of his deadly quarry, aware that a single false move would throw him into the path of a tidal wave of violent revenge…

And just in case that doesn’t sound awesome enough for you, that guy has a .30 caliber medium machine gun mounted on his surfboard. Top that!