Redneck P.I. Twila Taunton juggles her love life while seeking her mother's murderers.
Remember Twila Taunton, the Redneck P.I.? Sassy, irreverent, insouciantand no-nonsense, she's a real 21st Century woman. She's back in KICK ASSITUDE. Once again, she finds herself in the middle of murder and mayhem, with a little blackmail and bank robbery tossed in for good measure.
Oh, yes, and there is a handsome cowboy who'd verymuch like to get her naked, but she's not sure she's ready to give up hope on Harland, who's far away, in Nebraska.
And you'll love her sidekicks -- canine Scratch, who rides on the back of her Harley, and hard-drinking, weed-smoking Great Aunt Essie, who has her own bike.
Follow author TrishJackson to Quisby, Alabama, and hold onto your hats!
Excerpt
I had to pay a fifty buck cover charge at the entrance to the club and the bouncers checked me for weapons. I had anticipated that and had left my gun in the truck, under the seat. This was the kind of place I would have really liked to have it on me, but rules are rules and there was nothing I could do to change them. I even remembered to lock the truck.
Mirrors lined the walls of the interior of the club, which was dark inside, with black ceilings. Ultra violet lights lit the stages with a purple glow. I slid my ass onto a black Naugahyde barstool and ordered a beer and a shot of bourbon. I hadn't even drunk half of the beer when a short, dumpy guy wearing a red velvet-covered cowboy hat sidled up and rubbed shoulders with me.
"Hey, gorgeous," he drawled. "What's a nice girl like you doing all alone in a dump like this?" He turned to the bartender. "Another drink here, Lenny. Make it a double."
I considered punching him in the face, but I had to find Rowena and couldn't risk being thrown out. He was still leaning on me while I considered my options, at a loss for words for once in my life.
The bartender set a fancy looking green cocktail with an olive inside it on the counter in front of me. "Anything else, boss?" he said.
I caught the boss bit. "You the owner or the manager?" I finally said.
Red-velvet Stetson rubbed his shoulder up and down mine and tried to look down my blouse. "Pimm Brookshire." He held out his hand. "Owner, manager and chief bottle washer at your service." He had switched from his Texas drawl to a bad impression of a Limey accent.
I stared at the hand for a while, gave a what the hell shrug and put my hand out to shake his. Big mistake. He pulled it to his mouth and planted a number of wet sloppy kisses on the back of it. I pulled it away and wiped it on my skirt.
"Cut that out," I said. At the same time I jumped off the stool. Quick as a flash he was at my side. He put his arms across me, pinning me against the bar. His arms were not that long, and his body was real close to mine. Much too close for comfort.
I sighed and reminded myself why I was there. It took all my self-control not to knee him in the nuts. He put his hand up to my face and pushed a stray strand of hair off my forehead.
"What are you doing in my club? You a cop?" His face was about three inches from mine, and all the niceness was gone from his voice.
I snorted and almost gave in to the urge to head-butt him. "Course I'm not a cop. Do I look like a cop? I'm a journalist if you must know. I'm working on a story about night clubs in Houston. You got a problem with that?"
He cut me a look that said he didn't buy it. I knew it sounded pretty lame. He still had me pinned to the bar and I was getting restless leg syndrome.
"Look, I just want to have a drink and see what goes on in a club like this. You have a problem with that? I don't live in the city and I've never been to a place like this."
His gaze had turned to the pole dancer closest to us. She was young--I guessed her to be no more than sixteen. Her body was perfect, and she had a gorgeous face to go with it. I wondered if it was legal for kids so young to be working in a place like this. A whole bunch of guys had left their posts at other stages and came over to get a closer look.
They shouted lewd comments at her and threw money at her, and were obviously getting pretty worked up. He saw I was looking at her.
"Derrica. My star attraction. You ever think about doing this kind of work? A lot of men like your type of body." He looked me up and down, his gaze lingering on my breasts. "You're my type of girl. I like a woman with curves." He moved one of his hands off the bar and clasped it around my thigh. "Sizzling hot."
That was it. I charged him, knocked him sprawling on the floor and ran down the dark passageway to the ladies room, where I locked myself into a stall, waiting for the bouncers to come in and drag me out. I wasn't afraid, but I was breathing fast and my hands were sweating.
Nothing happened. I must have been in there for over twenty minutes before I unlatched the door as quietly as possible and crept out. A dark woman applying lipstick in the mirror gave me the look, but nobody else was in there. I smoothed my hair, tucked my blouse back in and re-touched my lipstick before I walked out, waiting for them to grab me and haul me out.
I stood in the passage way for what seemed an age but was probably only a couple of minutes before I made my way quietly back into the room. He was gone. I slid onto a bar stool.
The bartender, Lenny set a drink in front of me. "That was pretty ballsy of you. Bourbon. On the house."
"Why didn't he have me thrown out?" I lifted the glass and downed half of it in one gulp before I remembered I had to pace myself. I couldn't risk getting a DUI on my way back to my hotel.
"Who knows what goes on in his head. After you left he just stood up, dusted himself off, and simply said you were the hottest woman in the room. Then he headed for his private office and I haven't seen him since."
I didn't want to think about what he might be doing in his private office, but I know I was tense for a while after that. Eventually I relaxed a little, and managed not to draw the attention of anyone else.
It was after eleven when Rowena finally showed up on a stage. I watched her from the shadows as she took off more and more clothing until she was totally naked.
It was about that time when I sauntered up to the stage and waved at her. I tell you, she almost jumped out of her skin. The guys whistled and went crazy when she jumped up and down and everything jiggled.
I paid a bouncer to let me go back stage, and he even showed me her dressing room. Four or five other girls in various stages of undress were hanging out in there, fussing with their makeup and doing stuff with their miniscule costumes.
"Twila, what the fuck are you doing here?" Rowena spat, while she grabbed a shirt and pulled it on over her bra, followed by a thong and jeans. She dug around in a bag and fished out some very high red stiletto heels before I answered.
"I came to see you, but you don't look too pleased."
"Come on, let's get out of here." She picked up her bag and threw it over her shoulder and pulled me by my arm towards a rear exit. It was dark outside. Two dumpsters squatted beside the door. A couple of working women with wild hairstyles and next to nothing covering their bodies stood on the corner.
"I'm parked around there." I pointed, as she unlocked a blue Toyota Corolla.
"You'll have to follow me then." She looked around anxiously, "Hurry."
I wrote this novel several years ago, I self published and never had it to sell. I have decided to rewrite it and hope to get it published within a few months for people to be able to buy. I had a few copies and gave them to a few family members and
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