Now And Then

I've updated most of my book covers, and added an excerpt of Bad Mojo: The Complete Series (or something else) to the end of every story.

Changed the titles of two short stories: Bonnie Parker Smile is now Bonnie and Claude. Stay With Me will be Madden Manor (haven't uploaded this one yet). Gar has a new look, too (not uploaded yet). The covers will remain the same for The Plot and Night of the Dark.

I'm sending Captivity to promotional sites.

Afterward, I'm doing something new. With my life.

Free For A Limited Time

Last month I was really happy with the new look for my 'moon' series.

Two weeks in, and I started disliking the covers. Intensely.



Introducing Bad Mojo: The Complete Series.

Synopsis:
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.

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.

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