Pinkorama #4: “Valley Peep Celebration”
Last but never least, for our final Pinkorama of 2026, returning champions Candace and Cassandra and new team member Cara bring us the Valley Peep Celebration from the Epilogue of the most recent Team W book, The Peeps’ Guide to Murder!
And now I’ll turn you over to Candace and Cassandra to set the scene….
For this year, our entry is Valley Peep Celebration!
We present to you the Epilogue from The Author’s Guide to Murder. In this scene, our intrepid trio of authors (Cassie, Emma, and Kat) are celebrating the launch of their new collaborative novel, “Fifty Shades of Plaid”, at the Valley Peep in Peepsdale, Arizona.
While in the book Kat and Cassie are near the monitor while setting up FaceTime and Emma is sitting with her shoes dangling from her toes, for our depiction, we have Kat and Cassie on the bar and Emma is joining while being supported by two stools while they FaceTime their loved ones in Scotland.
Isn’t that outfit so Emma?
Can anyone say plaid pantaboots?!?!
Also, in this scene are Barbara Peters and a flummoxed bartender.
There is an additional picture of a close-up of Kat’s stiletto boots (unfortunately, not as long as in the book.
It’s impossible to put into words just how much Barbara Peters, the owner of the Poisoned Pen, has meant to me over the years, so seeing her rendered in Peep– and so accurately!– just made my year.
As always, Candace and Cassandra are masters of turning everyday comestibles into art– not just Peeps but all kinds of candy!– and every time I look at the scene, I find new details I’d missed. (Is that a gummy bear turned into an amazingly convincing alcoholic beverage?) Candace and Cassandra, I don’t know how you two do what you do, but I’m so impressed and delighted that you do it! And I cannot express my love for those plaid pantaboots, stilettos and all. Also kudos to new member of the team Cara, who created Kat’s stilettos and made them functional!
Take a bow, Candace, Cassandra, and Cara!
Given the Memorial Day weekend and all that, I’m going to post the Pinkorama Round-Up on Tuesday and open it up to voting– although I have no idea how anyone will manage to pick a favorite out of these four masterpeeps. I certainly can’t!
Happy weekend and thank you so much to all of our brilliant Peepcrafters!
Below is the relevant scene from The Author’s Guide to Murder….
Two Years Later
Scottsdale, Arizona
Nobody had warned the bartender about all the writers. He was having trouble keeping up with demand. A book launch party, the manager said. Some book called Fifty Shades of Plaid, written by three madwomen. Madwomen, I tell you, the manager repeated to the bartender, shaking her head. Like, demented. Real comedians, too, at least in their own minds. And they want a theme drink. A Scotch 75. Can you come up with something?
The bartender had come up with something. Scotch, prosecco, lots of lemon to cover up the peculiar combination of flavor. Nobody seemed to care. “Oooh, these are delish,” said the one in the knee-length plaid shirtdress that looked as if it came from Brooks Brothers. She sent the third glass down the hatch and held the empty in the air, like it was a bachelorette party or something. “So fun to get away from the babies, amiright?”
The one wearing the skintight catsuit of plaid vegan leather and the matching plaid stiletto boots . . . hold on a second, the boots were the pants. Or the other way around. One continuous pair of boots that climbed all the way to her crotch, merged into a leotard, and finished the journey as a kind of bustier-cum-swimsuit reminiscent of . . . of . . . well, anyway. That one. She picked up a copy of a thick hardcover book, whirled it above her head, and climbed with the agility of a mountain goat onto the barstool and then the bar itself.
“Everyone! Everyone!” she yelled, to no effect. She sighed, put two fingers lacquered with nail polish the color of dried blood to her scarlet lips, and let loose a whistle that probably punctured eardrums in Sedona.
The crowd fell silent and turned to Catsuit.
“Dearly beloveds,” she said, “we are gathered here tonight to celebrate the final stop on the Best Book Tour of All Time—”
“Hear, hear!” squealed Brooks Brothers, grabbing a drink from the tray.
“The best book tour ever!” shrieked a frizzy-haired woman in a long-sleeved plaid Nap Dress that somehow became her. The bartender only remembered serving Nap Dress one drink, but it had clearly hit her hard. “In the history of the world!” she added, for good measure.
“So we invited all you readers over to the fabulous retro vibes of the Valley Ho—my personal favorite book tour hotel, hands down—from our sold-out event at the Poisoned Pen down the street—the legendary Poisoned Pen, I should say—”
The silver fox sitting on the stool to the bartender’s right leaned forward and tapped his arm. “That’s my bookstore,” she said.
The bartender looked at her. The woman’s short grond hair gleamed under the Valley Ho’s stylish lighting. Her eyes gleamed, too. In front of her, on the counter, sat a copy of the same book Catsuit had waved above her head. Something clicked into place inside the bartender’s frazzled brain. “Wait, you’re Barbara Peters?” he said. “The Barbara Peters?”
She shrugged, smiling.
Right on cue, Catsuit boomed out, “—like to thank, like, a million billion times, the amazing Barbara Peters, owner of the legendary Poisoned Pen, who could not have been more supportive of our little book—everyone, big hip hip hooray for Barbara!”
Some drunken, uncoordinated whoops ricocheted around the crowd. Barbara waved them off.
The bartender leaned back to her. “So are these women really as crazy as they seem?”
“Oh, they’re harmless,” said Barbara. “And the book is really quite good, if you take out all the gratuitous sheep humor. Which, frankly . . .” She shook her head, as if the rest of the sentence were somehow too obvious for words.
“Everyone loves a little sheep humor,” said the bartender.