Trish Jackson is the real deal. This multi-talented author not only writes romantic suspense, but also created a memoir based on her grandfather’s life story and an informative booklet for teen drivers. Welcome to Book Blather, Trish.
You grew up in Africa and now reside in Florida. Please share a bit of your journey with Book Blather followers.
***First, I want to thank Marilee for the invitation to be featured on Book Blather.
I've always lived in the country. I grew up on my parent's farm in what is now Zimbabwe; rode horses, learned to shoot, and swam in rivers and dams. When I married, my husband and I lived on a large lot, where I kept horses and taught horse riding. Emigrating from my home country and coming to the U.S. was both scary and exciting, but I love it here. I've lived in California, Arizona and now Florida, and my husband and I have always followed our country roots. I think country folks are the most well-grounded people, who always stick to their core values.
Your novel, Redneck P.I. sounds hilarious. Tell us about it.
***Twila Taunton is a redneck and proud of it. After the betrayal of her childhood sweetheart, she vows never to let another man into her life. Until she meets sexy hunk Harland O'Connor. She steps in and takes over his private investigation business when he is shot and wounded. This leads her into several "situations", which she handles redneck style, with total disregard for political correctness, ably assisted by her Harley-riding great aunt Essie and her weed-smoking companion, Gasser Cunha, who is also a first-class computer hacker.
The book is an eclectic mixture of fun, suspense, and sizzling romance.
Will there be another book in the series?
***I am currently working on the first sequel, "Kick-Assitude." Twila sets out to unravel the mystery around several unsolved murders in her home town, Quisby, Alabama, assisted by her sidekick, "Scratch," a dog, who rides with her on the back of her Harley.
The second edition of my first novel, "Way Out of Line" is also due for release in May, 2012. This is a story of undying young love that survives years of separation under extreme circumstances. It moves from a prison to a cult, to the wild country of Mozambique in Africa, where the lovers have to escape from a militant group and swim a flooded, crocodile infested river.
You also write non-fiction. What’s up next in that genre?
***My first love is writing romantic suspense, but I have enjoyed putting together a compilation of my grandfather's memoirs. He was an African pioneer, policeman and soldier.
My most recent non-fiction work, just released in December, is a booklet called "Don't Text and Drive—22 Safe Driving Tips for Teenagers." I wrote and illustrated it myself. My hope is that it will help save some young lives.
Where can readers buy your books?
***Redneck P.I. and my other romantic suspense novels are available in electronic format from my publisher, Uncial Press. The print and Kindle versions are available at Amazon.com – there's a link to both on my website www.trishjackson.com
Please share an excerpt from Redneck P.I.
*** The next day at work, the boss called me into his office. Like
everyone else, I don't like being asked to go into the boss's office.
It usually doesn't mean good news, and reminds me of standing
before the head at school, which was an event that had occurred
more often than I would have liked.
He indicated the chair. "Please sit."
I slumped into it and wound the gum I was chewing around
my finger, before I corrected myself and sat upright as was
expected of employees in this establishment.
"I... um… I... um… I heard that you have..." He coughed,
"...been a little um indiscreet with Anthony."
I sat bolt upright. "That little pervert has been telling
everyone, hasn't he? I'll kill him. I'll…"
He held his hand up. "Judging by your reaction, I can only
assume that Anthony was apparently being honest when he said
that you er… You showed him your er… Your breasts, and you
have a ladybug tattoo." He couldn't resist looking at them, then
raised his eyes guiltily to focus on my face again.
This is where a lesser woman would have squirmed and
apologized or made up some lame excuse. "The dirty rat bastard. I
should have known he wouldn't be able to keep it to himself. I'll
kill him. I'll wring his scrawny little neck, I'll—"