Voodoo Mimosa (The Story of a Southern Bartender, #1) (eBook, ePUB)
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The New Saga Begins...Chapter 1: Blood Moon Over BourbonThe French Quarter was alive with its usual reckless abandon, but tonight, something felt different. The air was thick, not just with humidity but with something unseen, something dark curling in the alleyways. Cajun knew better than to ignore the warning signs. He had spent too many nights hearing the old folks at The Bayou mutter about omens, and tonight, the blood-red moon above Bourbon Street felt like one of them.And then, she walked in. Her heels clicked against the floor like the echoes of a thousand secrets. Her dress, dark and sl...
The New Saga Begins...
Chapter 1: Blood Moon Over Bourbon
The French Quarter was alive with its usual reckless abandon, but tonight, something felt different. The air was thick, not just with humidity but with something unseen, something dark curling in the alleyways. Cajun knew better than to ignore the warning signs. He had spent too many nights hearing the old folks at The Bayou mutter about omens, and tonight, the blood-red moon above Bourbon Street felt like one of them.
And then, she walked in. Her heels clicked against the floor like the echoes of a thousand secrets. Her dress, dark and sleek, moved with a quiet menace. The scent of cigars and expensive sin wafted in with her, masking the sour tang of sweat and whiskey. She looked like trouble. And Cajun was all too familiar with that kind of trouble.
She leaned against the bar, her gaze sharp enough to cut through the thick air. "You Cajun LeBlanc?"
"That depends," he replied, his voice smooth, his hands stilling for a moment on the polished glass. "Who's askin'?"
"Someone with an offer."
Her name was Delphine Mercier, and she wasn't just another lost soul in New Orleans. She was a hunter-of spirits, of secrets, and of those who thought they could cheat death. She didn't need to say more. The way her lips curled into a smile told Cajun all he needed to know. And in that moment, he knew things were about to get a lot worse.
Chapter 2: A New Face at The Bayou
While Cajun handled Delphine's cryptic warnings, another stranger had begun to settle into the corner booth, nursing a drink and scribbling in a notebook. He looked like a boy lost in a world of grown men. His name was Beau St. Clair, and he had a dangerous curiosity about the West Bank Special.
Vivienne wasn't having it.
"Look, sweetheart," she snapped, her sharp eyes narrowing as she fixed Beau with a glare. "If you want a story, find another bar. This one's got too many already."
But Beau wasn't the type to be easily discouraged. The boy had persistence, if nothing else. With a glint of mischief in his eyes, he pulled out an old, weathered newspaper clipping from his coat pocket. Cajun's grandfather, in full sepia glory, staring back at him. And the resemblance? Unmistakable.
Things got a whole lot more complicated after that.
Chapter 3: Shadows in the Quarter
Bodies were turning up drained of blood, their hands clutching amulets etched with Marie Laveau's symbol. Rumors spread like wildfire through the Quarter. This wasn't just some ghost story. Marie Laveau wasn't just some legend. She was back. And Cajun's name had been written in blood.
"Seems like you're more than just a bartender," Delphine mused, eyeing Cajun from across the table. She didn't smile. She didn't need to. The tension between them was thicker than the fog rolling off the Mississippi River.
Chapter 1: Blood Moon Over Bourbon
The French Quarter was alive with its usual reckless abandon, but tonight, something felt different. The air was thick, not just with humidity but with something unseen, something dark curling in the alleyways. Cajun knew better than to ignore the warning signs. He had spent too many nights hearing the old folks at The Bayou mutter about omens, and tonight, the blood-red moon above Bourbon Street felt like one of them.
And then, she walked in. Her heels clicked against the floor like the echoes of a thousand secrets. Her dress, dark and sleek, moved with a quiet menace. The scent of cigars and expensive sin wafted in with her, masking the sour tang of sweat and whiskey. She looked like trouble. And Cajun was all too familiar with that kind of trouble.
She leaned against the bar, her gaze sharp enough to cut through the thick air. "You Cajun LeBlanc?"
"That depends," he replied, his voice smooth, his hands stilling for a moment on the polished glass. "Who's askin'?"
"Someone with an offer."
Her name was Delphine Mercier, and she wasn't just another lost soul in New Orleans. She was a hunter-of spirits, of secrets, and of those who thought they could cheat death. She didn't need to say more. The way her lips curled into a smile told Cajun all he needed to know. And in that moment, he knew things were about to get a lot worse.
Chapter 2: A New Face at The Bayou
While Cajun handled Delphine's cryptic warnings, another stranger had begun to settle into the corner booth, nursing a drink and scribbling in a notebook. He looked like a boy lost in a world of grown men. His name was Beau St. Clair, and he had a dangerous curiosity about the West Bank Special.
Vivienne wasn't having it.
"Look, sweetheart," she snapped, her sharp eyes narrowing as she fixed Beau with a glare. "If you want a story, find another bar. This one's got too many already."
But Beau wasn't the type to be easily discouraged. The boy had persistence, if nothing else. With a glint of mischief in his eyes, he pulled out an old, weathered newspaper clipping from his coat pocket. Cajun's grandfather, in full sepia glory, staring back at him. And the resemblance? Unmistakable.
Things got a whole lot more complicated after that.
Chapter 3: Shadows in the Quarter
Bodies were turning up drained of blood, their hands clutching amulets etched with Marie Laveau's symbol. Rumors spread like wildfire through the Quarter. This wasn't just some ghost story. Marie Laveau wasn't just some legend. She was back. And Cajun's name had been written in blood.
"Seems like you're more than just a bartender," Delphine mused, eyeing Cajun from across the table. She didn't smile. She didn't need to. The tension between them was thicker than the fog rolling off the Mississippi River.
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