SUSAN SLUTT, GIRL SHAMUSby Kate Emburg
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BLURB:
Book 2 in the Susan Slutt series
Who's the world-famous girl sleuth who solves all sorts of queer mysteries with the help of a butch tomboy, her feminine friend, and two boy detectives named Frank and Joe?
If you guessed "Nancy Drew," you're wrong! Meet Susan Slutt, the hottest schoolgirl shamus since the invention of jalapeno-flavored edible underwear. In this collection of cases, Susan gets down and dirty while investigating a messy "Fracas at the Fudge Factory." She travels to Switzerland to join "The Search for the World's Biggest Icehole," where she faces another puzzle: Is that a snake in Frank Baccardi's pants or is he happy to see her? But Susan's greatest challenge confronts her in Hawaii when she discovers "The Secret of the Golden Dildo." Among the baffling riddles: Is it possible to find an eighteen-year-old virgin in Hawaii? What is the life of one girl, even one with really great knockers, compared to all the riches of the universe? More important, if Susan dies, can Butch have her room and finally stop sleeping in the yard and eating from a dog dish?
The excitement builds to a volcanic climax as Susan's life is threatened, Butch's sanity is threatened, and Susan's bra straps are threatened by the weight of her massive mammaries. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll get turned on by these timeless tales of dazzling detectives, female friendship, and male bondage ... uh, bonding. Contains the stories:
- The Case of the Borrowed Bungalow
- The Unfinished Beer
- The Password to Delphinium Drive
- The Search for the World’s Biggest Icehole
- The Dreadful Revenge
- Secret of the Golden Dildo
- The Mystery at Honey Suckle’s Manor
- In the Shadow of the Hunchback
- The Crooked Boner
- The Floating Saucer Mystery
- Fracas at the Fudge Factory
- The Phantom of the Porkerville Public Library
- The Clue in the Cracking Wall
- The Secret of Red Gateless Farm
EXCERPT FROM "The Crooked Boner" by Kate Emburg
“What is this mystery about?” asked Beverly Francis Bold. He was a slender, feminine young man with tousled blond hair and a single gold earring.
“We’re looking for a Crooked Boner,” Susan explained.
“I knew a guy with a crooked boner once,” said Beverly eagerly. “He used to act in porn flicks. I think I still have his number somewhere.”
“Was it twisted like a corkscrew?” asked Ashleigh Nettleson, a blonde with a Southern accent whose intimate friends included males as well as females. “Because if it was, I think I know him, too.”
But when Susan described Rawley Boner, her chums decided their acquaintance was not the same man after all.
“When did you last see Raw Boner?” asked Dave Stevens. The young man had a rangy build, ranging from five-foot-one and one-hundred pounds to six-foot-five and two-hundred fifty pounds. Today he was in the average range: medium height, medium weight, and medium-length, medium brown hair.
Susan described how Raw, posing as his own twin, had served an inferior breakfast and then fled. “We must catch him and bring him to justice.”
In the back seat, Butch Hawkins and Rodd Turgood exchanged glances. Both wondered if the slim chance of scoring with Susan was really worth the hell she put them through.
“Why are we bringing Rawley to justice?” Butch queried. “As far as I know, selling an Indian Reservation isn’t illegal, if Raw was the legitimate owner. As for the bad breakfast --”
“Not only bad, but very bad,” Susan corrected her sister. “Rawley Boner is guilty of operating a bed and breakfast without a license, not to mention impersonating his twin, which is identity theft and fraud. Besides, he’s just plain weird. Anyone who lives in a house like Rawley’s deserves to be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.”
If her friends had any doubt as to the legality of arresting Boner, they vanished at first glimpse of his house. All agreed that only a criminal would build such a crooked structure.
As they walked up the driveway, Susan was astonished to see the normally-bold Butch hanging back. Inquiring as to the cause of her sister’s mysterious cowardice, Susan learned that the Boner house made Butch feel uncomfortable.
“Why, Butch, I didn’t know you were superstitious,” said Susan with a merry laugh. “I assure you, the house isn’t haunted.”
“It’s not a ghost I’m afraid of,” Butch muttered. Her eyes darted nervously from the various chimneys, towers, and fence posts to the many long, thick, tilted porch railing spindles. “All these phallic symbols give me the willies.”
Susan’s forehead wrinkled, though even with a wrinkled forehead she still looked prettier than Butch. “What are phallic symbols?”
“Crooked boners,” Butch explained. “Seeing all these crooked boners makes me nervous.”
“Then you needn’t worry,” Susan comforted her. “There’s only one crooked Boner, Rawley, and he’s disappeared.”
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