(pb; 1967: tenth novel in the Mickey Spillane series)
From the inside flap:
"The teasing transparent nighties were so shredded they barely covered the bodies of the murdered beauties. The blonde wore black. The redhead, green. And now some one was combing the city for the same number in white.
"Two strange slayings and a frightened model set Mike Hammer on a chase through the world of high fashion and UN cocktail parties to Village bars and sleazy hotels. Snarling Hammer digs pay-dirt when he dives underground to a secret sex-cult, and busts open a group of degenerate, but highly eminent kick-killers."
Explosive, slick, and chock full of sex and violence like most of Spillane's other works, Body Lovers highlights Spillane's familiar ultra-nationalistic bent, as well as his take-few-prisoners attitude.
If you can get past Spillane's hatred of foreign influences (this time embodied by U.N. ambassadors), this is a welcome blast of a read, all thriller and no filler, an approach more modern authors should take to heart.
Worth owning, this.