Two weeks in, and I started disliking the covers. Intensely.
I found out that I had miscategorized the series. The tags were all wrong. The covers didn't say "dark fantasies on a moonlit night".
Previewing books in the dark fantasy category on Amazon everything fell into place.
Bad Mojo: The Complete Series.
New categories: dark fantasy, crime
I am releasing the series in it's entirety first, not last. If all goes well I plan to release the books individually sometime in the near future.
New (shorter) blurb:
A crime writer embarks on a killing spree by means of voodoo magic. Traveling across the country under the guise of a promotional tour for her successful debut novel, she uses details of the murders to maintain her best-seller status with an upcoming episodic thriller series.
Long Night Moon is now Magic Moon
Wolf Moon is Metamorphosis Moon
Hunger Moon is Mournful Moon
Worm Moon is Masterminds Moon
Fish Moon is Mesmerizing Moon
Flower Moon is Malevolence Moon
Strawberry Moon is Mayhem Moon
Thunder Moon is Messenger Moon
Red Moon is Meanness Moon
Harvest Moon is Make-Believe Moon
Hunter's Moon is Masquerade Moon
Beaver Moon is Monster Moon
Cold Moon is Melancholy Moon
Excerpt from Chapter One of Book One:
Virgil awoke late at night to find his wife gone. He kicked off cold and clammy bedcovers, box springs screeched when he got up. A steady breeze, weighed down with humidity, carried the vanilla-like fragrance of Joe-Pye weed and the barely audible sound of laughter through an open window.
He stood behind fluttering white sheers and watched Marie trot across the back yard, her long black curls bouncing with each footfall. The opaque security light above the barn doors cast an eerie pallor through the limbs of an old elm draped with Spanish moss. He noticed her belly, in the narrow space between her shirt and shorts, seemed rounder than normal. He lazily scratched his ass, wondered what the hell she’s doing.
A man stepped out of the shadows, and drew her into an embrace. They kissed for a moment, then entered the barn.
Marie came back out. She turned her head side to side, looked up. Virgil leaned back without thinking.
The man clasped her hand. “C’mere, baby.” He brought a shiny metal flask to his lips and took a long swig.
She giggled again. “Gimme some.”
“Sh! Not now.” He pulled her into the barn, loosely swung one door shut, the other already latched at the top.
* * *
Virgil slipped through the half closed door. Stood beneath the loft and listened to the rough’n ready sounds of raw lust. Glossy photos in his dog-eared girlie magazines flashed through his mind. He hiked the leather rifle strap onto his shoulder, gripped the sides of the wooden ladder. Slowly mounted the rungs; aware one always squeaks.