Swamp pulp was a thing in the late fifties/early Sixties. There were endless titles such as Swamp Girl, Swamp Babe, Backwoods Teaser, and more. All of them featured a buxom head-turning Swamp-wise woman who was immune to the humidity, the mosquitoes, the heat rashes. She was generally covered with mud, dressed in rags, hit on by every no-good man who took a look at them, and half-betrothed to whoever was the meanest slickest dirtiest backwoods redneck ever imagined. But of course, she’s the key to a suitcase full of money, the real killer, the crooked backwoods sheriff. Pick any version. There were lots of them.
Originally published as Backwoods Tramp, later re-released as A Moment to Prey, Whittington can write in this genre better than anyone. Don’t dismiss this as another cheap tawdry Swamp fetish even though it’s got all the elements of the genre. Jake, out erstwhile hero, is a former washed up ball player who kicked around for years and now is the patsy for a $100,000 robbery. They left him to take the blame and it cost him everything. He’s got nothing left to live for but red hot vengeance and he’s going to chase down whoever left him out to dry if it’s the last thing he ever does.
And where it takes him is deep in the Backwoods Florida Swamp where no one will give him the time of day. Not even the mud covered Swamp siren named Lily who won’t give him a smile, not after he fails to come to his defense when some drunken gent paws her. But there’s a bundle of money at stake and she wants out of the Swamp real bad.
This novel is red hot steamy pulp with the tension building and building as the players all square off against each other. This one packs a terrific punch right to the end.