Book Trailer Way Out of Line by Trish Jackson
Sunday, August 26, 2012
About the Author:
Book Trailer Way Out of Line by Trish Jackson
I grew up on a farm in Zimbabwe, Africa, and lived through many adventures that sparked my imagination, including having to keep a loaded UZI by my side every night in case of an attack by armed terrorists. I love animals and my grandchildren, and am happiest in my country home in Florida tapping out a new novel on my computer keyboard.
1. What inspired you to become a writer?
My Mom is a published writer—she writes short stories--and my Dad always encouraged me to write.
2. When did you first realize you wanted to be a writer?
I used to win "essay competitions" during my school years, and often wrote articles plus a children's book after that, but it was in 1990 that I decided I wanted to write a novel—and was amazed and ecstatic when the story was all there in my head and the characters came to life and told me what to write.
3. What genre(s) do you write? Why do you write the stories that you write?
I write romantic suspense. I think because I've always loved romance and I lived in a suspenseful environment in Africa. As a child I wished I could have a real adventure, and shooting cobras and deadly black mambas, driving on roads that could have land mines in them, or spending a night in a military camp when they were expecting to be mortared could all be termed adventures, I guess.
4. Where did the inspiration for your book come from?
The writer who inspired me the most is Wilbur Smith, a best-selling author who writes extreme romantic suspense—with vivid sex scenes and terrifying adventures.
5. How long does it take you to put a story together?
My first novel took about a year. I wrote several others after that before I actually tried to write for publication. I write the first draft in a few months to get the basic story down, then I spend as long as is necessary to get it as good as I can make it.
6. Can you share a little about your novels with us?
My most recently published novel is WAY OUT OF LINE, which is about two kids from Texas, and the far reaching consequences of a little white lie. Trent's lover, Hal, who doesn't know her real age, is thrown into prison for statutory rape. They truly love each other, though, and their love strong enough to survive years of physical torment for him and mental torment for her. They are finally reunited in Mozambique, Africa and have to find their way home from the African wilderness.
Hal poured the lotion into the palm of his hand, hoping she wouldn’t notice it was shaking. He started rubbing it slowly onto her back. Her skin was soft and warm. He had to summon all his control to keep his hands confined to her back.
"Now my legs, please." Amber eyes studied him coolly from under thick brown lashes. She flinched and squirmed at the first touch of his hands on her thighs.
This is crazy. I must be crazy. He couldn’t stop. He never wanted to stop touching her. Slowly, he felt the tense muscles soften under his caress. She moaned.
"Your hands are so warm," she whispered.
She’s a little wasted. Just enough that I could do anything I want to her. His hands moved to the inside of her thighs, and he pictured himself slipping his fingers under the skimpy scrap of fabric.
His heart raced and he turned his gaze to her face, trying to gauge her mood. Her eyes were half closed, her breathing slow and relaxed. This is way out of line. She’s so fucking innocent. I can’t take advantage of her like this. It just wouldn’t be right.
As he watched her face, her mouth opened slightly and her eyes closed. Her breathing became slow and deep, and she whimpered and twitched a little. He jerked his hand away and shook his head. I can’t believe it. She’s asleep.
Hal didn’t want to stop. Not now. Not when he was so close. His body ached all over with desire. So trusting, like a puppy. He stared down at her, breathing heavily.
In REDNECK P.I., Twila Taunton is working in Yankee territory when she falls for Harland O'Connor and works with him in his private investigation business. Her methods are a little off, but she brings down a dangerous maniac—with the help of her weed-smoking, hard drinking great aunt Essie and hacker of note, Gasser Cunha. Oh… and Harland has a twin who is a cop, and Twila's hormones can't tell the difference between the two of them, even though she's allergic to cops.
“Twila. I know your name now,” he said from close behind me. “You are the only woman in this room who interests me. You gonna tell me why you’re so unfriendly?”
“It’s none of your business,” I said through clenched teeth. “Why don’t you just leave me alone?”
“I will. But I’m gonna get your phone number from Jane and I will call you. You will find out that when I want something, I never give up. You’re the only real woman here, and I want you. You want me too, but you just won’t admit it.”
Later, when we all went out onto the balcony to watch the fireworks, he stood close behind me. So close that I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. I don’t know how many people were out there, but it was a tight squeeze, and it seemed that every time someone moved, his body made contact with mine. Despite my distrust of men, it made me feel hot all over.
The most annoying thing about him was that afterwards, when Jane and I discussed him, she told me that it was a proven fact that people whose eyes meet despite their best efforts to avoid it, always ended up having sex.
7. Who is your favorite character in your novel and why?
Twila is my favorite because she can do or say anything she wants without caring what others think of her. And she does.
8. What has surprised you the most about the whole processes of getting your books on the market?
I was just so excited when Uncial Press accepted Redneck P.I. for publication—and they led me through the whole process.
9. Would you like to share what the reviewers are saying about your books?
WAY OUT OF LINE -- Jackson ratchets up the suspense with each chapter, weaving a tapestry of intrigue and emotion until she draws all the threads together. This book is a well written, exciting novel that could cost the reader some sleep because it is difficult to leave it even for a little while. Ruth Ann Hixson, Author
REDNECK P.I. -- The characters in this tale are unique to say the least. Dialogue and Twila's introspection into her life and situations is unequaled by other more mundane tales. This is one of those rare books I'll read again just because it makes me smile so much. If you read for enjoyment like I do this is one of the best of the year. Romance, suspense, and fun fill the pages making it harder to put down than most. Dee Dailey, The Romance Studio.
10. How many books have you written?
WAY OUT OF LINE and REDNECK P.I. are the two that have been published. KICKASSITUDE, The sequel to Redneck P.I., is due to be released in March 2013. In this book Twila is adopted by a dog, who wears a studded leather collar and rides around Quisby, Alabama on the back of her Harley with her.
11. What are you working on next?
IMPASSIONED is a novel about a two sexy hunks and a Colorado small-town veterinarian who has to face her greatest fear when her dark past finally catches up with her.
12. What do you like to do for fun when you’re not writing?
I love horse riding and hiking, and spending time with my grandchildren.
13. How can readers contact you?
Book Trailer Way Out of Line by Trish Jackson
Book Trailer Redneck P.I. By Trish Jackson
15. When does your book go on sale and where can we buy it?
16. Last but not least is there anything that you would like to add?
Thank you very much, Leigh, for including me in your list of guests, it's been such a pleasure.
I'd love to answer questions if anyone has them. Post them here or email me direct at trish @ trishjackson dot com.
I'm giving away two free copies of Way Out of Line in a drawing at Goodreads.com – there's link on my website http://www.trishjackson.com/
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
About the Author:
T. C. Archer is comprised of award winning authors Evan Trevane and Shawn M. Casey. They live in the Northeast.
Evan puts his Ph.D. to good use by writing about alternate realities, and Shawn channels the mythology and philosophy she studied during her wasted youth into writing about exotic places and times.
Find the Author:
Title: Trouble at the Hotel Baba Ghanoush
Author: T. C. Archer
Genre: Science fiction, Erotica
Publisher: Loose Id
ARe | Amazon | Fictionwise | B&N (Nook)
"Enforcer Fontana Marks is on vacation undercover until she has to testify against the Track Cartel for crimes against the Galactic Coalition. But the cartel is hiding something, and Fontana intends to find out what--then make them pay for murdering Jenny, the young scientist Fontana failed to protect on a previous assignment.
The last thing Fontana intends to do while vacationing incognito on the fantasy resort Sagitariun is follow the advice of her superior. "Rest, recuperate, and find a man."
But how can a woman resist a blond, blue-eyed, chisel-jawed, great-assed man streaking naked in public when he's obviously running from someone? And why can't she to get rid of the damned trench coat she stole to rescue him?"
Adult 18+ excerpt
Fontana spotted trouble when the man first burst into Spacer Jack’s Bar and Grill. It wasn’t his chiseled jaw and blond hair or the way he scanned the joint with his intense blue eyes. No, the trouble was—he was naked. The towel wrapped around his slim hips had snagged on the swinging bar door when he entered, and he didn’t look back in his sprint toward the kitchen. He shot past where Fontana sat at the bar, his muscular ass bunching with the effort of his long strides.
Her pulse jumped. If that's trouble, I want some.
The naked man disappeared through the kitchen doors. A collision of bodies sounded.
Fontana straightened. How was a woman to mind her own business when a nude man was in trouble? She shoved off the corner stool and dashed after the naked man, swiping a man’s trench coat off the coatrack standing beside the kitchen door. She pushed through the swinging door and halted centimeters from where the naked man lay sprawled on top of a waiter. A tray of pasta entrées hovered on its anti-grav suspension, where the waiter would have been holding it in his upturned hand before the man rammed into him.
In all her years of undercover work, she had never come across a situation quite like this. And probably wouldn’t again.
Fontana seized the naked man’s arm, hauled him to his feet, and threw the coat over his shoulders as she bolted with him toward the rear exit. She dragged him through the back door, and they practically fell into the back alley by the dumpsters. A furry rodent skittered from nearby tin cans and disappeared behind a stack of pallets. She couldn’t help a smile. The alley was a replica of mid-twentieth-century Earth, complete with robo-rats and all.
She grasped the man’s shoulders and shoved him against the restaurant wall. Her pulse sped up when the steely muscles beneath her fingers tensed. How was it possible for his hard body to get any harder? She’d seen Aslothian gladiators with less muscle. His blue-eyed gaze locked on to hers.
Fontana ignored the tremor that rippled through her, pressed her body against his solid two meter frame, and demanded, “What the hell is going on?”
His cock pulsed against her abdomen and began to thicken. This diversion was exactly what her superior, Colonel Stephaney Lyons, had ordered. “Find a man and reaffirm life. Let him fuck your brains out.” The colonel wasn’t usually one for getting quite so personal or so crude, but she knew how angry Fontana was about Jenny’s death and the failure of the mission on Rigil IV.
The naked man grasped her shoulders and drew her closer. “Who are you?” His drawl belied the intensity of his stare.
Well, well, a man who knew how to pace himself. Fontana slipped a hand between them and wrapped her fingers around his erection. Her mouth went dry. He was hard as a rock. She squeezed the thick rod. He hardened even more beneath her fingers.
“I’m asking the questions.” Damn if she didn’t sound like Detective Friday from the twentieth-century series Dragnet. Dragnet’s brand of law was before the Criminal Rights Act of 2141.
The naked man gave a low laugh. “Oh, tough girl.”
“Who are you running from?”
“Maybe I should be running from you.”
“Not while I have hold of this.” She yanked his cock with just enough force to keep his attention.
He sucked in a breath.
Now she had him. “I can play yanky-panky all night.”
His shaft throbbed, and his warm hands slid down her arms, stopping to rest on her hips. Long fingers flexed against her carbon-fiber parachute pants. That and the halter she wore were a woman’s standard garb in Spacers. She released him when he rolled her mound against his rod. Fontana grasped his arms and angled her hips so that the steely length slid along her clit. He groaned, and the sound sent butterflies skittering across the inside of her stomach.
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