Welcome to the blog tour for THE UNLIKEABLE DEMON HUNTER, the first book in the adult urban fantasy romance series, Nava Katz, by Deborah Wilde. See below for information the book, buy links, an exclusive excerpt, and details on her giveaway.
About the Book
Title: THE UNLIKEABLE DEMON HUNTER
Series: Neva Katz #1
Author: Deborah Wilde
Publisher: Te Da Media
Release Date: April 18, 2017
Genre: Adult Urban Fantasy Romance/Comedy
Links: Goodreads | Amazon | Amazon UK | Amazon CA | Amazon AU
Bridesmaids meets Buffy with a dash of the seven deadly sins.
The age-old story of what happens when a foul-mouthed, romance impaired heroine with no edit button and a predilection for hot sex is faced with her worst nightmare–a purpose.
Ari Katz is intelligent, driven, and will make an excellent demon hunter once initiated into the Brotherhood of David. However, this book is about his twin Nava: a smart-ass, self-cultivated hot mess, who is thrilled her brother is stuck with all the chosen one crap.
When Nava half-drunkenly interrupts Ari’s induction ceremony, she expects to be chastised. What she doesn’t expect is to take her brother’s place among the–until now–all-male demon hunters. Even worse? Her infuriating leader is former rock star Rohan Mitra.
Too bad Rohan’s exactly what Nava’s always wanted: the perfect bad boy fling with no strings attached, because he may also be the one to bring down her carefully erected emotional shields. That’s as dangerous as all the evil fiends vying for the bragging rights of killing the only female ever chosen for Demon Club.
Odds of survival: eh.
Odds of having a very good time with Rohan before she bites it: much better.
“Show me your power.” His hand snaked out and caught my wrist, pressing his palm against mine. Holding me in a barely contained show of strength.
“Death wish, much? I showed you in the backyard.”
“Barely even a tease.” He drawled the words.
I meant to pull away but I got my directions mixed up and pushed back against the warmth of his skin. “I will fire up. I’m warning you.”
Rohan leaned in. “Do it.” His eyes flared and I caught my bottom lip between my teeth.
Then some last iota of common sense–and self-preservation–raised its hand. I jerked away from him. If he was a demon, I should have killed him six times over by now. What the hell was I doing? “You still haven’t convinced me that you’re not a demon,” I said, giving the evil spawn another chance for reasons I didn’t want to examine too closely. “Fame doesn’t preclude that. Nor does having a super cool mom.”
“That doesn’t, but this does.” He held up his pinky finger, showing me the same gold ring as mine, with the same engraved hamsa and blue sapphire iris, which it turns out, was standard issue. And here I’d been hoping for a succession of property-stamping jewelry as I rose through the hunter ranks.
I fell back against my headboard. “You’re part of Demon Club. Fuck. Me.”
Rohan oogled me. “I won’t take that off the table yet.” He propped his chin on his hands on the top of the chair.
I cocked an eyebrow at him. “Did you just put me on a table?”
“More invoked a proverbial table and a conditional ‘yet.’ The ‘yet’ is an important component of this potential event,” he said.
You know what else was an important component? The presumptuous jerk still having attached balls for our proverbial fuck.
“I used to write fanfic about Fugue State Five,” I said in a conversational tone.
Lookie lookie. Return of the amused smirk. “How was I?” he asked.
I shrugged, examining my chipped nail polish. “No clue. I wrote self-insert fanfic about the rest of your band. Zack, your keyboardist was astounding.” I drawled that last word so he’d get the full implication.
“My keyboardist?” Rohan’s smugness was R.I.P. “But he’s gay.”
“I assure you that didn’t matter.” I gave a self-satisfied sigh. “He succumbed to my fifteen-year-old self’s wiles.”
Rohan straightened. “Which of my much older bandmates also succumbed, Lolita?”
“Please. You guys were only three years older.” I twisted a dark curl around my finger. “But pretty much of all of them.” I raked a pointed look over him. “The ones worth writing about.” He didn’t react. “Though succumbing is far more innocent than you’re imagining,” I admitted.
“I doubt you were ever innocent.”
That was highly insulting. Did he think I’d been born this way? Please. I’d worked hard to cultivate this level of sexual awesomeness.
About the Author
A global wanderer, hopeless romantic, and total cynic with a broken edit button, Deborah writes adult urban fantasy to satisfy her love of smexy romances and tales of chicks who kick ass. She is all about the happily-ever-after, with a huge dose of hilarity along the way. “It takes a bad girl to fight evil. Go Wilde.”
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