In the breach between stories – #CrossGenre #Paranormal #Giveaway

Blurb

In these pages, you’ll find…

• A tender love story between a ghoul and a human

• A cosmetic possession

• An immortal teen finding a love lost for lifetimes

• The redemption of a trafficker

• The dangers of getting everything we want

• Blemishes that heal others

• An incubus and an assassin in the breach between stories

• The making of a siren

…and more.

For readers of the Limerent Series, you will learn more about some characters you already know and love. For new readers, these short stories are an entry point into the Limerent world.

Excerpt

From “Yule: The Year Alex Got Everything He Wanted for Christmas”

“So don’t you think that Santa would find it greedy of you to be asking for 156 things when you already have so much?”

Alex had pondered that for maybe a whole five seconds before he committed Mistake Number 3.

“Well, I can add a few more things to my list and then send the extra stuff I get to the kids who don’t have anything,” he said brightly. This had seemed reasonable to him, and it was a good start. He should have stopped there, but he didn’t.

“Besides, I’ve been really good this year. And Santa can make as many gifts as he wants, so why can’t I just send him the list of everything I want. I bet other kids send lists just as long or longer. A lot of the kids in my class already have a lot of the stuff on my list. And they get new stuff all the time. How come their parents always—”

At this his mother snapped. Maybe it was what he had said. Maybe it was his “tone.” But whatever it was, her next words had lost the sweet quality and were short, crisp, and direct.

“Because their parents aren’t your parents. And because having 156 things on your Christmas list is unreasonable and greedy,” she said. “Go to your room and pare that list down to the ten things you really want, or I will do it for you.”

“But Moooommm …”

“Now,” she said, with all the flexibility of concrete.

Review by Lisabet Sarai

Short stories demand razor-sharp skill from an author. In a relatively compressed space, they must communicate the premise, sketch the setting, and introduce the characters, before focusing in on the primary conflict. Then the events in the story must either resolve this conflict or else demonstrate that the fundamental issues were in fact quite different from what the reader had been led to expect.

The essentials of the story form are brevity and self-containment.

Most of the tales in Sabbatical, Part 1 by LS Delorme don’t really fit this (admittedly biased) definition. The author often jumps into the middle of a situation without any prelude or preparation for the reader. I found myself spending a good deal of time in a state of confusion. I couldn’t tell who the characters were or what motivated them. Flashbacks were common, heightening the experience of narrative chaos. In many cases the story events were surprising or intriguing, but often they did not lead to any sort of resolution. Vague references to external persons and powers sometimes introduced a sense of menace that never materialized. My general feeling was that I’d been picked up, carried along for a while, then dropped.

Some of the stories seem to be linked, occurring in a universe where paranormal abilities are not uncommon and both malevolent and benevolent organizations engage in an ongoing struggle. Most of these cross-story relationships are little more than hints, however. This just added to my bewilderment.

Finally, I found the author’s style to be rather muted, with emotions described as opposed to demonstrated by action. The intensity of the language rarely matched the sometimes dire experiences of the characters.

From the comments above, one might conclude that I did not enjoy reading Sabbatical. In fact, that’s not true. The stories (if one can call them that) are rich in surprising and original concepts. I was impressed by the author’s imagination, even as I lamented what I viewed as some limitations in craft. I gather that at least some of the tales are related to previously published novels by the author. I suspect I might like those longer works more than I did this volume.

There is one story in the collection that does fit my definition, however. “The Year Alex Got Everything He Wanted for Christmas” is perfectly structured, with a clear conflict, escalating action and a satisfying resolution. It’s sweet and funny, with a light touch. This story demonstrates what LS Delorme could do if she paid more attention to literary convention.

I get the sense that she is deliberately unconventional, though. That’s actually a perspective I agree with, though my own violations of expectations occur more in genre content than in narrative technique. Certainly Sabbatical is unlike anything else I’ve read recently. That could be taken as a recommendation.

About the Author

Lexy Shaw Delorme (writing as LS Delorme) is the award-winning author of The Limerent Series, a genre-defying collection of emotionally charged novels that which includes Caio, Bright Midnights, Fanning Fireflies, Ghosting Academy and Limerence.

Her book Caio won a finalist spot in the International Book Awards for cross genre fiction. Bright Midnights was named a Publishers Weekly (BookLife) “Editors’ Choice Pick” and was a finalist Golden Wizard Award Competition in 2024. Fanning Fireflies won first place for paranormal fiction in the Firebird awards.

With a background as a lawyer, pop musician, and science writer, Lexy brings intellectual depth and lyrical prose to every story she tells. She is a wanderer and storyteller at heart. Raised as a “military brat” by a United States Navy Captain, she has lived on three continents, across four countries, nine states, and 21 cities. Now based in Paris, she lives with her charming French husband and two very cool sons. Lexy is an active member of the British Fantasy Society, the Science Fiction Writers Association, Romance Writers of America, the Horror Writers Association, IBPA, Society of Authors and ALLi.

She is currently working on the latest installment in the series.

Website: https://www.lsdelorme.com/

Instagram: https://instagram.com/ls_delorme

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/lexyshawdelorme

TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@lexyshawdelorme

LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/lexy-shaw-delorme-357830/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/lexy.delorme

Book Link

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Sabbatical-Part-One-Short-Stories/dp/B0GVZP85WM/ref=sr_1_1

LS Delorme will be awarding a $20 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner during the tour.

New Boxed Set Available for Pre-Order! - #KindleUnlimited #EroticRomance #99Cents

I am working on a brand new novella, but it’s going very slowly. In the meantime, I have collected three of my boldest and most arousing novels into a new boxed set called Brazen, available exclusively on Amazon.

The collection includes Incognito; Rajasthani Moon; and the most recently updated edition of my very first novel, Raw Silk – approximately 220 thousand luscious words in total.

As usual, it’s a bit difficult to decide whether these books should be viewed as erotica or as romance. Both, I guess. All three stories conclude with HEAs, and two of them involve weddings. At the same time, the heroines engage in wide range of sexual explorations, not infrequently with individuals other than their ultimate partners.

If you’re a stickler for monogamy, I suspect you’re not going to approve of this collection. If you’re more open-minded… well, prepare yourself for a sensual treat.

The collection will release on August 10^th and will be free on Kindle Unlimited. Meanwhile, it’s available for pre-order at the miniscule price of 99 cents.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0HBNC7M63

Here’s an exclusive, explicit excerpt from Rajasthani Moon.

 

Cecily strained against the ropes that held her fast. Loops of rough hemp bit into her flesh, preventing anything but the most miniscule movements. Her nude body had been draped over one of the red-leather-covered ottomans scattered around the opulent apartment. The low stool was broad enough to support her chest and belly but left her arse jutting out into space. Her legs had been spread wide. Then her wrists and ankles had been secured to iron loops embedded in the floor.

The ungainly arrangement exposed her most delicate parts to anyone who cared to look. A cool evening breeze filtered in through the latticed windows, raising the tiny hairs on her arms and tickling her moist quim like invisible fingers. I must not allow myself to become aroused, Cecily reminded herself. I must remain lucid, rational, alert to any information that might bring me advantage. Alas, the dampness painting her inner thighs suggested she was already losing that battle.

The indignity of her position enraged her—that they should treat Her Majesty’s envoy in such a way! Still, it couldn’t help but focus her own attention upon her sex. Her lower lips fluttered and her clit pulsed as she imagined, despite herself, the lewd picture she must present.

To add insult to injury, it had been Sarita who had bound her thus—at the Rajah’s instruction, presumably. The lady had not been gentle as she’d stripped away the finery she’d so recently bestowed, forced Cecily’s legs apart, and circled her limbs with the scratchy cord. Her roughness had made Cecily suspect that Sarita was anything but pleased by her assignment.

It had required every ounce of Cecily’s self-control to resist temptation and not fight back. A well-placed silat melayu punch or a ninjitsu kick would have rendered the haughty young woman helpless for long enough that Cecily might have slipped out of the room. Where could she go, though, naked and constrained as she was by the fiendish collar? Besides, Bhuni and an equally massive colleague stood guard outside the Rajah’s quarters.

Now Sarita lounged on a carved ebony settee across the room, reading and pointedly ignoring Cecily’s squirming and sighs. Apparently she’d been ordered to remain with the captive, at least until the Rajah arrived.

He seemed to be taking his time. Cecily’s nose itched. Her over-extended muscles were starting to cramp. Her arousal faded, vanquished by boredom and physical discomfort. Still, there was no sign of the elegant ruler.

At long last, the door rattled and then swung open. Sarita leapt from her seat, crossed the richly-patterned carpet, and sank to her knees in front of the entering Rajah.

“My Lord, I have done as you commanded. The spy awaits you.”

Amir took in Cecily’s shameful state in one astute glance. Amusement was evident in both his voice and his expression. “Excellent work, Sarita. I could hardly have done better myself.” He raised his favourite to her feet and bestowed a kiss upon her lips. She pressed her lithe body against his in an attempt to prolong the embrace, but he gently put her aside and strolled over to confront Cecily.

“She looks extremely fetching in bondage, just as I’d expected.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Cecily glimpsed the other woman’s deepening scowl.

“How are you feeling, Miss Harrowsmith?”

The mockery in his tone was not enough to prevent a surge of renewed lust, which she struggled to suppress. “I presume that’s a rhetorical question, Your Highness,” she replied after a moment. God, but his eyes are hypnotic! “Given that I’m stark naked and trussed up like a goose about to be roasted.”

“Not entirely rhetorical.” The handsome Rajah circled around to inspect her from the rear. “It seems to me that you’re distinctly damp.” With a chuckle, he swept a finger down the length of her cleft, gathering her moisture. Her inner muscles clenched as sparks struck her clit. When he smeared her juices across her bum, she wanted to sink through the floor. “Based on the available evidence, I’d say that being bound excites you.”

“Nonsense—” she began. Her attempts at a cool, sarcastic response were interrupted by the ferocious slap he landed on her arse. “Ow! Oh…” The sting from his spank vanished, overwhelmed by the delicious sensation of his fingers playing in her cunny. “Oh…ah…”

“And it’s clear that, like many of your compatriots, you find corporal punishment arousing.”

“No—ow! That’s ridiculous…Ow! Ah! Ow!”

He alternated sharp blows to her buttocks with exquisite explorations of her cunt.

“Fondness for punishment is one of the many intriguing cultural phenomena I encountered during my sojourn in your dank country.” He circled her back hole with a slick finger, then probed gently. “I suppose that being exposed to those notions at a tender age might have shaped my own predilections in that regard.”

She tightened her sphincter, trying to keep him out, without success. Guilty pleasure rushed through her as he wiggled his digit just inside the entrance. “Oh—you…uh—you spent time in England? Ah…” Though he pulled out, the effects of his lewd touch continued to ripple through her body. Her sex gaped, hungry, dripping with excitement she couldn’t hide. If only he’d stop chattering and simply take her…

“I was schooled there. Pratan as well. My father believed in the value of knowing one’s enemy.”

“I’m not— We’re not—oh!—your enemy, Your Highness. Ow!”

The Rajah had pinched one of the welts raised by his brother’s whipping. “Hmm. We’ll see. Speaking of Pratan, it looks as though he did quite a job on you yesterday. Perhaps I should refrain from inflicting any further damage on your delectable bottom at present.”

Cecily bit back a moan of disappointment. She hung her head, appalled by her reaction. Her hair tumbled around her face, hiding her shame.

“Fear not, sweet Cecily. I have other ideas about what to do with you—equally nasty and painful, I guarantee.” He gave both her butt cheeks a solid squeeze, waking echoes of her previous beatings, then moved away.

She heard a lock click on some chest or cabinet behind her. He must be seeking some new instrument of punishment or humiliation. She shuddered, from fear or anticipation, or perhaps both at once.

“Where is Pratan?” she ventured as the noise of his rummaging continued. At the moment, she would have felt safer in the company of the bandit.

“He’s—um—indisposed at the moment. That is why I was delayed. Ah, here we are! Don’t worry. I fully intend to share you with my brother.”

Share? Each man was fearsome in his own right. But together…

She pushed the thought away. Focus. Be strong.

“My Lord, may I leave?”

Heavens! Cecily had completely forgotten that Sarita was present, watching the entire scene. Her cheeks burnt anew.

“Oh, I don’t know. I thought that perhaps you’d like to participate in our little games.”

“No, sir—truly…”

Let her go, Cecily begged silently. Please just let her go.

“You don’t want to put these clamps on her labia? Or work this wooden phallus into her rear hole?”

This was almost too much for Cecily’s all-too-vivid imagination. Her swollen clit throbbed. Her sex muscles clenched around hungry emptiness. If either of them touches me, she thought, I’ll explode.

“My Lord, please…” Sarita sounded desperate.

“I thought I might make Miss Harrowsmith lick your cunny. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Oh my God, no! And yet a sidelong glance at the lovely courtesan almost sent Cecily over the edge.

“I am your obedient servant, sir…” the girl began.

Amir laughed and swept Sarita into his arms once more, mollifying her with an energetic kiss. “Never mind. I won’t force you do something that so clearly displeases you. Not tonight, at least!”

“Thank you, my Lord.” Sarita pressed her lips to the back of his hand in obvious relief. “I am very grateful.”

“Go then! Off to the women’s quarters with you!” He swatted her diminutive rear on her way out. “I’ll call if I want you.”

She turned upon the threshold to give him a deep bow. “As you command, my Lord. Thank you again.” The door closed behind her.

“Thank you,” murmured Cecily, her raging heartbeat starting to slow down.

“You don’t find my Sarita desirable?”Amir faced her, drawing back the curtain of her hair and fixing her with his compelling gaze.

“She’s lovely but…” Cecily was uncertain how to continue. She didn’t want to offend him unnecessarily. Her future depended on his goodwill.

“But she doesn’t seem very fond of you, does she? Well, who could blame her? All she wants is to give herself to me, body and soul, but I’ve chosen you as my companion for tonight instead.”

He lifted Cecily’s tangled locks to drape them over her shoulders. When his fingers grazed her back, tiny shivers of delight raced along her skin. His half-smile told her that he’d noticed.

“Shall we continue, then?” That question, at least, seemed rhetorical, since he disappeared without waiting for an answer.

Aren’t you curious? #SummerRomance #BDSM #FridaySmooch

Happy Friday! I have a kiss snippet for you today from The Understudy, a BDSM erotic romance that’s the perfect vacation read. Set in a summer theater company in Massachusetts’ picturesque Berkshire Hills, it’s a classic tale of an innocent woman’s initiation into the joys of loving surrender.

And just to spice things up, I’ll give away a free copy of the book to a randomly selected commenter. Be sure to include your email so I can find you.

Enjoy!

Blurb

One look from him and I melt. One word, and I’m on my knees.

When the Berks Hills Summer Playhouse offered me my first real acting job, I never expected to share a stage with theater legend Geoffrey Hart - let alone his bed. Nothing in my education or experience prepared me for the paradoxical pleasures of submission.

Now I’m devoted to my master, for better or worse. According to the rumors, though, Geoff’s heart is taken. Dumped by his long-time sub, he has escaped to the Berkshires to lick his emotional wounds. Geoffrey’s dark games arouse me beyond belief, but I fear I’m just a substitute for the real object of his affections. Am I willing to settle for the role of understudy in this perverse passion play?

The Smooch (Rated R)

“May I leave?” I asked, my voice a weak quaver that disgusted me. Why was I asking, anyway? Who was he to tell me what to do?

“Not yet. I need your help unpacking. Go open the bag you carried up. It’s not locked.”

No, I wanted to scream. But I obeyed him anyway, pressing the chrome-plated catch on the sleek grey Samsonite case and flipping up the lid.

I gasped when I saw the contents. “It’s true!” I blurted out.

Hart came up behind me and looked over my shoulder. He didn’t touch me, but his mere presence was overpowering. “What’s true?”

I heard laughter in his voice. I pointed at the leather restraints and the rubber paddles, my hand shaking. “That—that you’re kinky. Into S and M, just like Adele said.”

“I prefer the term ‘D and S.’ Dominance and submission. My focus is on the exchange of power, not the administration of pain. Though I’m not averse to using pain if that’s the right thing to do.”

“The right thing to do?” I turned to face him, hiding behind my indignation. “Are you joking?”

He was close, too close for comfort, deliberately invading my personal space. I tried to step backward. I succeeded only in banging my shin against the luggage rack.

“Ow!”

His eyes drilled into me. “I’m completely serious. D and S is not a game, despite the way it’s portrayed in popular culture. It’s not a fashion statement. It’s much, much more, a new way of being in the world. A doorway into a new kind of relationship, deeper and more intimate than anything you can imagine.”

“Right,” I muttered. I couldn’t bear to look at him. I stared down at my sandals, feeling the blush crawling up my cheeks and across my chest. “I’m sure that’s what all the perverts say.”

He caught my chin under his forefinger and raised my eyes to his. I trembled when his skin met mine.

“I can’t pretend it’s not exciting, of course—trying new implements, pushing the sub’s limits, testing her devotion. But that’s not the main point.”

I burned in the heat of his stare. I felt myself begin to melt, the crotch of my jeans growing damper with every beat of my pulse. I didn’t want to listen but I couldn’t hide my fascination.

He stroked his thumb across my cheek. I held my breath, wanting him to stop, dying for him to go further.

“Aren’t you curious, Sarah? Wouldn’t you like to drop your diligent, high-achieving, good little girl persona and find out what’s underneath?”

I couldn’t answer. How did he know these things about me, this man I’d met less than a half hour ago? Did he really understand the way I’d pushed myself in college and grad school, working for the top grades, following the rules, determined to succeed in my chosen path despite the odds? Did he know that I hadn’t had a lover for nearly four years? I hadn’t had time. Anyway, I’d been all too aware of the fact that everyone around me was both a colleague and a competitor.

I read compassion in his chiseled features, mingled with lust.

“I know you, little one. I know what you really crave. What you really need. Open yourself to me and I will fulfill the desires you don’t yet dare to admit, even to yourself.”

He didn’t wait for permission. He simply claimed my mouth as though it was his by right. I struggled for a moment, as his strong arm snaked around my waist and pulled me to his chest. Then I let go, let his tongue slide between my lips and his fingers slip under my shirt.

His mouth was muscular and insistent. I tasted his expensive liquor and his foreign cigarettes. I was in some kind of trance, swooning as he devoured my mouth and stroked my bare back. I felt him fumble briefly with the hooks on my bra, then blissful relief as my breasts were set free.

My nipples throbbed, aching for his touch. He released my mouth and held me at arm’s length.

“From now on, you will not wear a bra.”

Raising my shirt, he palmed my breasts, flicking his thumbs over the rigid tips. Each flick sent electric currents sizzling down to my engorged clit. New moisture flooded my pussy. I could smell myself, like tidal flats baking under the summer sun. His flaring nostrils told me that he caught the same scent.

“Is that understood?” He pinched a nipple and pain arced through me like lightning. Then like thunder, pleasure rolled in.

 

Find the buy links at https://www.lisabetsarai.com/theunderstudybook.html

Or leave me a comment to win a copy!

A new girl in town – #LGBTQ #ParanormalRomance #MFRWHooks #99cents

Greetings, and welcome to this week’s edition of Marketing For Romance Writers Book Hooks! I hope you’ll visit all the authors participating in today’s blog hop. You’ll find their links at the end.

Today I’m returning to my lesbian paranormal erotic romance The Witches of Gloucester. Yes, I know I featured this title quite recently (https://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2026/06/a-visit-from-ladies-welcome-brigade.html) but: 1) it’s the perfect summer read, set by the sea with a climax on Midsummer’s Eve and 2) it’s currently on sale for only 99 cents (reduced from $2.99). So if you enjoy lesbian romance—or New England atmosphere—you should definitely grab a copy before this Saturday.

The Hook (rated R)

“There’s a new girl in town.”

“I know.” Beryl stretched her white arms over her head, to their maximum extent, then pulled herself up into a sit, legs crossed Indian style. A rich fragrance of pussy rose from between her parted thighs. “She stopped at the store yesterday, looking for titles about colonial-period Salem.”

“I’m sure you were very helpful.” Rolling onto her side and propping her chin up on her palm, Marguerite grinned at her redheaded partner.

“I didn’t dare get close. She was broadcasting sexual energy in every direction – pulsing like some hunk of radioactive matter. I swear, I nearly came, standing twenty feet away. Amazing!”

“Yes – I’ve been aware of her aura for the last few days. But I haven’t actually seen her.”

Beryl leaned forward for a quick kiss. Marguerite fought the urge to pull that pale, compact body down on top of her own. Not that Beryl would mind, of course. In fact, the little ginger cat took advantage of their closeness to tweak one of Marguerite’s still throbbing nipples, before pulling back.

“You’ll appreciate her,” Beryl added. “She’s just your type.”

“You mean, loud and bratty, like you?” Marguerite dodged Beryl’s flying fist. “No, seriously – what’s she like?”

“Young. Ethereal. Full of light. Wait, I’ll show you.” The witch padded on bare feet over to the wooden sea chest across the room to pull out a length of navy blue cloth printed with yellow-gold stars. She spread it over the braided rug that took up most of the floor. “Come. Sit with me.”

While Marguerite settled herself cross-legged upon the starry throw, Beryl retrieved a half-melted sapphire-blue candle from a shelf above the bed. She arranged it upon the cloth between them, then passed her cupped palm over the charred wick. “Illumine,” she declaimed.

The candle spontaneously ignited. At the same time, the afternoon dimmed. Sudden dusk descended. The blue-edged flame glowed, but did not dispel the gathered shadows.

“Look into the fire,” Beryl instructed.

Marguerite tended to use crystals or mirrors for divination. It took a few moments for her to discern the forms moving in the flickering brightness. As she focused her attention, the image grew more distinct.

A diminutive young woman even paler than Beryl sat reading at an old dinette table. Straight silver-blond hair cascaded down her back, almost to her waist. Her black tank top showed off a surprisingly deep cleavage for someone with such a petite frame, while her brief shorts clung to what looked like a heart-shaped ass.

Concentration knotted her eyebrows. Her rosy lips were pursed into a moue of dissatisfaction. She appeared to be struggling to comprehend the material. Or perhaps she was just restless. After a few moments, she snapped her book closed, rose from her chair and wandered over to peer out at the forest of masts visible through the open door. Her movements were like willow branches in the wind. Her hair shimmered in the sun, a platinum river. Marguerite’s theory about the woman’s ass was confirmed.

“She’s amazing! Do you think...?”

“It’s possible,” Beryl replied to the unspoken question. “But how can we draw her to us? You know the rules. We can’t use magic to bind her. She must come to us of her own free will.”

“We’ll just go introduce ourselves. Like good neighbors.”

“Ask to borrow a cup of sugar?” Beryl chuckled as she leant over the candle to brush an ebony curl out of her lover’s eyes.

“Something like that.” Marguerite stared once more into the heart of the fire, at the slender form leaning against the door frame, gazing into the distance. “She looks lonely.”

“Based on the vibes I picked up in the book shop, I’d say she’s horny.”

Marguerite released an uncharacteristically girlish giggle. “We may be able to help her with that problem.”

You can find all the buy links at https://www.lisabetsarai.com/witchesofgloucesterbook.html

Be sure to visit the other authors participating in today’s Book Hooks!

Activating his abilities might be fatal – #LitRPG #Fantasy #ReviewTuesday

Blurb

Leon Lewis is essentially the reincarnation of Anubis, but the idiot street thugs don’t know what a jackal is, so they call him “Doberman” instead…

Which works out, because in this new age of superheroes, most names are copyrighted.

It all started thirty-one years ago…

Humans began being born with a new organ called the “facet gland,” which mutated their bodies and granted them superhuman abilities. Each person’s power is unique, but one fact quickly emerged: these abilities were subject to progression and advancement, much like building muscles through exercise.

Complex powers even follow a tier system with multiple improvement paths. And while some use their gifts to benefit humanity, others embrace unprecedented villainy.

Leon grew up idolizing heroes like Nova, Glitter Ninja, and Japan’s fan-favorite Shine Shine Hero. But his own abilities are dangerous, and could harm random people, so he lives in isolation in a cramped apartment.

That is, until his neighbor, Rachel Anderson, is targeted by the Kings in Yellow—a mysterious street gang infamous for making people vanish.

Leon can’t stand by and do nothing, but activating his abilities might prove fatal…

Because Anubis is death to friends and foes alike.

Excerpt

Two thugs waited in a dark alley behind a strip club and that was never a good sign.

Leon Lewis stood across the street, staring down the alleyway from a good fifty feet away, watching the two suspicious men. He waited, unblinking, in the safety of a moonlight shadow.

The Eclipse Lounge, one of the few high-quality strip clubs in Sacramento, only operated from 8 p.m. to 3 a.m. because only the saddest of sacks went to an adult entertainment lounge in the middle of the day. That meant it was always dark when Leon came to visit, and he was extra familiar with the dank surroundings, neon flashing lights, and overstuffed dumpsters.

He also knew who usually came and went. These gangbangers weren’t on the regulars list.

Don’t get the wrong impression, though. Leon never, not even once, went inside the strip club. He had no idea what the interior looked like, and he didn’t care.

He only came to the Eclipse Lounge to make sure one of the girls made it home safely.

Rachel Anderson, who went by the stripper name of Stella Velvet, was Leon’s next-door neighbor. Months ago, she had returned to her apartment with bruises after a long night of work. Since then, Leon had gone out of his way to make sure she got home safely whenever her shift was over.

This would be the third time strange men came to bother Rachel since Leon took up his bodyguard duties. Something was clearly going on.

Review by Lisabet Sarai

Leon Lewis has superpowers – just like every person born within the past thirty-one years. A weird evolutionary glitch has given everyone a so-called facet gland that bestows highly specific, and sometimes quite odd, capabilities upon its owner. Society has developed a multi-level system of officially regulated and publicly compensated super-heroes, because of course some people have used their facet-derived talents to become villains.

Leon’s powers involve enhanced vision as well as the ability to sense the nature of other people’s super-endowments. In addition to these useful but not very exciting endowments, though, he also can transform himself into Anubis, the jackal-headed Egyptian god of death. In his Anubis aspect, he can summon a much broader range of capabilities including super-speed, super-strength and super-endurance. Unfortunately, this hidden identity has a serious down side. Apparently, he is cursed. Any person who spends time in his presence dies.

Trying to use his powers for good while avoiding emotional entanglements, Leon lives a depressing and lonely life. Though he works to protect his beautiful neighbor Rachel from the criminal gang targeting her, he can’t allow them to become friends. His curse has already doomed his parents and several others who were dear to him. He desperately wants to avoid having Rachel become the next victim.

Leon is not an official hero, so he has to be careful to avoid being arrested as an illegal vigilante. When a genuine super-hero offers to train him and to guide him in applying for legal status, Leon dares to hope that his luck might be changing. Then his heroic mentor and friend is killed during a joint operation, leaving Leon vulnerable, alone and desperately guilty, sure that his Anubis-derived destiny is responsible.

I signed up to review A Super Hero Named Doberman at least partly because I previously enjoyed Shami Stovall’s Chronos Chronicles. This book has some of the same positive characteristics: original concepts and creative world building; distinctive and off-beat characters; clever dialogue; and a setting in a run-down, economically-depressed corner of California you’d never expect to see in a novel.

Overall, I enjoyed the novel, appreciating the factors above. I particularly enjoyed the elements of Egyptian mythology woven into the plot. However, I felt that the book spent far too much time describing elaborate fight scenes. The influence of computer gaming on the book is all too obvious. In fact the authors label the book at the end as “Lit-RPG” which I gather is a game-focused subgenre, though this was not how the tour company described it.

I am not a gamer, but I know enough to recognize the elements. Leon progresses through various levels of capability, earning upgrades to his various powers that allow him to fight ever more formidable opponents who are also “leveling up”. He constantly skirts the edge of survival. However, since he’s the main character, there’s never any real chance that he’ll be killed. As a result, I found all the battles a bit boring and repetitive, especially as I got closer to the end of the story.

In fact the final conclusion was abrupt enough to surprise me (though I suppose it should not have done so). Leon rather suddenly achieves his goal of becoming an official super-hero as opposed to someone who must lurk in the shadows. The villains aren’t really foiled, though. They live on, plotting ever more dastardly deeds which apparently are explored in the next book of this series.

About the Author

Shami Stovall was born in Utah, lived in California, and now resides in the wonderful state of Kansas. After graduating high school, she went on to earn her BA in History from Stanislaus State, and then her Juris Doctorate from the Laurence Drivon School of Law.

Stovall’s favorite novel as a child was Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O’Dell. It opened her imagination to possibilities she had never considered, and to this day she can still remember the impact it had on her.

As an adult (albeit still a kid at heart), her favorite novel is Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert A. Heinlein. Heinlein’s take on a perfect world again opened her mind to possibilities she had never considered, and Jubal Harshaw is the fictional character she most aspires to be.

Stovall loves telling stories, playing video games, John 3, John 4, and writing about herself in the third person.

If you want to contact her, you can do so at the following locations:

Website: https://sastovallauthor.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/GameOverStation/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SAStovall/

Email: s.adelle.s [at] gmail [dot] com

John and Shami Stovall will be awarding a $25 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner.

Charity Sunday: Endangered at the top of the food chain – #CharitySunday #GlobalTigerDay #WWF

Welcome to the Charity Sunday blog hop for July 2026. In an attempt to keep readers interested, I usually try to vary my selected causes from one month to the next. Today, though, I’m reprising a charity that I featured only six months ago, namely the World Wildlife Fund. I’ve chosen WWF because next week they are celebrating Global Tiger Day, an internationally observed event focusing on tiger conservation. 

 

Tigers are apex predators, at the top of the food chain in the environments where they live. In that role, they serve a critical function in maintaining ecosystem balance. No other creature challenges their ascendancy—except, of course, humans. Around the world, tigers are endangered due to hunting (Asian cultures, especially, treat tiger body parts as powerful medicine) as well as through the less direct but possibly more pernicious effects of habitat destruction and climate change.

The World Wildlife Fund works to sustain the global tiger population, though direct projects as well as public education. 

 

Many other species are threatened, of course. As “charismatic megafauna”, tigers provide a hook to get people to consider the global ecosystem as something precious, something irreplaceable. Whatever work we do for tigers will have far-reaching implications for other aspects of the natural world.

So, in honor of Global Tiger Day, I will donate two dollars to the World Wildlife Fund for every comment I receive on this post.

Don’t be shy!

For my excerpt, I’ve got a snippet from my paranormal erotic romance Hot Spell. No tigers – the story is set in northern California – but Sylvie, the heroine, has a very special relationship with nature.

Blurb

The flames of passion are more than metaphor.

Comfortable and at home in nature, Sylvie doesn't mind being alone in the wilderness. But she's not the only being haunting the glades and the trails. The stranger she encounters bathing in the stream near her camp obviously wants her, but refuses to act on his desire. Aidan is cursed with a power he fears will destroy her if they surrender to their passion. Can Sylvie refrain from tempting him?

Excerpt

The miles evaporated as Sylvie raced along the highway. Hot wind from the open window whipped her long hair back behind her. As the road climbed under her wheels, her spirits rose as well. She sang along with the oldies station as she drove—Satisfaction, Thunder Road, Born to Be Wild. The DJ’s playlist matched her mood. For the first time in weeks, she felt free, the burdens and worries of city life left behind her. Even the continuing heat failed to oppress her, spiked as it was with the scents of pine and wildflowers.

She reached the trailhead about five. Sunlight slanted between the towering trees like gold bars. She locked her car, then shouldered her pack and set out at a brisk pace for the campsite, about three miles up the path. She’d camped in these woods before, when she’d been in college. It seemed like a hundred years ago.

Alice and Jill had been appalled when she’d told them her plans. “Alone? In the middle of the wilderness?” Jill’s perfectly shaped eyebrows had knit in a frown. “What if something happens?”

“What could happen?” she’d laughed, guessing that neither of her friends had ever taken a hike or slept under the stars—or would ever consider doing so.

“Wild animals! Bears. Mountain lions. Or you might fall, break a leg and be stranded. You could starve to death.”

“And what about murderers or rapists?” Alice had rapped her fingernails against her desk. Her turquoise enamel matched her outfit. “You never know who you’ll meet out there in the woods.”

“I’ll have my phone,” she’d reassured them, although she’d known there’d likely be no signal. “Animals are shy. They won’t bother me if I don’t bother them. And I took a self-defense course last year. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Anyway, you’ll know where I am. If I’m not back on Tuesday, send out the National Guard.”

She strode along the trail, swinging her arms and filling her lungs with the fragrant mountain air. Sweat pooled in her armpits and under her breasts. The weather was still unseasonably warm, but a fresh breeze played amongst the trees, hinting at the coolness to come wherever it touched her damp skin. As dusk shrouded the forest, her senses grew keener. An owl perched on an overhanging branch—she caught the yellow glint of its eyes. Some furred creature skittered through the underbrush and the mournful call of a loon reached her from the direction of Crystal Lake, miles away. A spicy hint of crushed fennel tickled her nose, triggering a pang of hunger. Sylvie smiled, remembering the chunks of salmon marinating in a Ziplock bag in her backpack. She’d brought a half bottle of wine, too, for her first dinner in the wild. Somehow, she’d felt like celebrating.

Full night had fallen by the time she reached the campsite, perched on a ridge above the steep banks of Sandman Creek. As she piled fallen branches inside the ring of blackened stones and kindled them into a merry blaze, she could hear the stream singing to itself…or maybe welcoming her back where she belonged.

Her meal was every bit as tasty and satisfying as she’d anticipated. Afterwards, she sat for what seemed like hours, her back against the rough bark of a huge spruce, tasting the residual sweetness of her wine, watching the fire burn down to a clutch of glowing embers. The cinders shone from within like some dragon’s precious cache—ruby, gold, an occasional flash of emerald. The play of light fascinated her.

Her muscles ached from the strenuous hike. Her hair was in knots and a sticky film of perspiration coated her skin. None of that mattered. Peace enfolded her, along with a profound sense of well-being. The breeze whispered to her. The creek babbled and laughed.

Water. A bath. Relaxed, lazy and sated though she was, the notion still held an irresistible appeal. Sylvie checked the remains of the fire to assure herself that there was no chance it would escape the rocks encircling it. Then she dug a towel out of her pack and headed down the forested slope to the creek.

 

If you’re interested, you’ll find the buy links for this short romance at https://www.lisabetsarai.com/hotspellbook.html

Meanwhile please be sure to leave me a comment! It only takes a couple of minutes.