Sharon: Hello! Welcome to I Smell Sheep. You and your main character Nava Katz fit right in around here. Most of the flock are bad ass, snarky, sexy-man appreciating women. So we should probably start with the most important question…Who would you climb like a freaking tree if he showed up at your door?
Sharon: Oh snap! I know who Arjun is…not only climb that, build a treehouse and swing… I gotta agree with Barrons too. He is my gold standard for alpha males.
Deborah: I knew I liked you.
Deborah: I knew I liked you.
Sharon: For those who don’t know about your debut book The Unlikeable Demon Hunter (great title by the way) tell us a little about it. Do you know how many books the series will be? Or how it all ends?
Deborah: Thanks! It’s 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. I describe it as Bridesmaids meets Buffy with a dash of the seven deadly sins.
At the moment it’s a six-book series and I have more or less of an idea of how it ends. That said, if I’m still loving writing these books, I could continue with a new arc. I’ve left the door open for more than the six.
Sharon: Which of the deadly sins have you committed this week?
Deborah: Let’s be real. Probably all of them.
Sharon: I knew I liked you <G>
Sharon: What kind of bad habits does Nava Katz have? And how much of your personality did you sneak into her.
Deborah: She’s snarky, self-defensive, and has carefully cultivated her hot mess status. This is a girl seriously in denial about the emotional baggage she’s carrying around from a couple of major life upsets. Nava is me when I turn off my edit button. We share a love of tap dancing, smexy men, and craving our own happily-ever-after, which I have. Yay! (Buried under layers and layers of sarcasm.)
When I created Nava, I really wanted to play with what being an “unlikeable” female meant because I believe that even fictional women are held to a different standard than fictional men, especially around sexuality. And I also brought a lot of my issues around the sexism inherent in the Jewish religion (mine) to it. So yeah, Nava and her story are very personal to me in different ways.
When I created Nava, I really wanted to play with what being an “unlikeable” female meant because I believe that even fictional women are held to a different standard than fictional men, especially around sexuality. And I also brought a lot of my issues around the sexism inherent in the Jewish religion (mine) to it. So yeah, Nava and her story are very personal to me in different ways.
Sharon: If you have kids, did you pass on that broken edit button? If you don’t have kids, would want to pass it on…like a mini me <G>?
Deborah: I have a total mini me. She’s both smart and a smart-ass. I’m hoping she uses her powers for good – i.e. for my benefit.
Deborah: I have a total mini me. She’s both smart and a smart-ass. I’m hoping she uses her powers for good – i.e. for my benefit.
Sharon: Tell us about Rohan Mitra! Are there any single Demon Hunters? Names? Numbers?
Deborah: I’m so in love with Rohan, it’s kind of embarrassing. I’m an unabashed fan of the alpha male trope, but not with it defined as the guy being a douchebag. What I love most about Rohan is that while he fights Nava for control in every aspect of their relationship, he only does so because he knows she can stand toe-to-toe with him. He also has her back so completely and, because of his belief in her, he pushes her to grow as a person in a way that no one else does. He’s a California boy of East Indian/Jewish heritage who was a former mega rock star, and he loves his mother.
All the main demon hunters in my series–Drio, Kane, Ari, Baruch, and Rohan–would define themselves as single. Technically, sure. But they’re either all also massively deluded about their feelings for other people or super broken and unable to be in any kind of relationship. Wait, let me rephrase. Deluded and super broken. Not really an either/or situation.
All the main demon hunters in my series–Drio, Kane, Ari, Baruch, and Rohan–would define themselves as single. Technically, sure. But they’re either all also massively deluded about their feelings for other people or super broken and unable to be in any kind of relationship. Wait, let me rephrase. Deluded and super broken. Not really an either/or situation.
Sharon: We appreciate alpha males around here…even got a feature called Alpha Male Diner. Do you like alpha males who purr or growl in your ear?
Deborah: Yup.
Sharon: What time are you most productive? Where are you most productive?
Deborah: It varies. When I get deep into writing or revising, I’ll start before breakfast and still be writing at 10PM. With breaks to grudgingly do things like feed my family, teach, or listen when people speak to me. There’s no one place I’m most productive. I can (and will) write anywhere.
Sharon: You also wrote a YA romcom The Blooming Goddess Trilogy under the name Tellulah Darling. Where in the world did you come up with that pen name?! (if it’s your real name…sorry <G>)
Deborah: Try me - Alice in Wonderland, Jungle Book, Snow White, Little Mermaid, Mary Poppins- what do you want? These days though, I’m all about Hamilton.
Sharon: My daughter and I are trying to get tickets to Hamilton. We sing it in the car… “Everyone give it up for America’s favorite fighting Frenchman...”
Deborah: So do me and my daughter! I keep joking that she’s had 10 years of French Immersion education so that she can rap Guns & Ships with a French accent. #proudmom
Sharon: OMG! If I thought she would agree, I'd ask her to video that for us!
Sharon: Truth or Dare? (will get in second round) Since you didn’t pick, I’ll pick for you. DARE! Take a pic of the inside of your freezer or fridge.
Deborah: My fridge is super boring but here. You can see my condiments door. And that I need to go shopping.
Deborah: My fridge is super boring but here. You can see my condiments door. And that I need to go shopping.
Deborah: At the time, the industry here in Canada was pretty dire. I’d gotten to the point where I wasn’t sure I even enjoyed writing anymore. My first Tellulah Darling book was actually written because I love YA and love romcoms and I just wanted to see if I still found any joy in writing by penning something totally different. I did (obviously) and I actually enjoyed it so much, I just kept going. I still teach screenwriting, though. I love taking my students through the process of creating great TV pilots and features.
Sharon: Can you share your favorite line from The Unlikeable Demon Hunter?
Deborah: I prostrated myself like a wedding guest begging the Godfather for a favor.
Sharon: If you were a floral arrangement, what type of flowers would be included?
Deborah: Gerber daisies, dahlias, and tiger lilies.
Sharon: Can you change the oil on a car or a tire?
Deborah: Nope. Totally hopeless and rather embarrassed by that fact. Jump starting my battery is about as far as I can go.
Sharon: Hey, most people can’t even do that! Can Nava change oil or tires?
Deborah: I wish I could say yes but I doubt it. That will be part of her growth.
Sharon: Where is some place you have traveled yet, but hope to one day?
Deborah: Thailand.
Rapid Fire:
Sharon: Walmart or Target?
Deborah: Target
Sharon: form fitting jeans or tailored dress pants?
Deborah: Tailored dress pants.
Deborah: Tailored dress pants.
Sharon: tattoos or piercings?
Deborah: Piercings
Deborah: Piercings
Sharon: favorite place on a man, woman?
Deborah: The line of a woman’s neck. A man’s smile. Cliché I know, but I’m a goner for a sexy smile.
Deborah: The line of a woman’s neck. A man’s smile. Cliché I know, but I’m a goner for a sexy smile.
Sharon: pancakes or French toast?
Deborah: French toast
Deborah: French toast
Sharon: Powdered sugar or syrup on them?
Deborah: Jack Daniels syrup. This local restaurant makes it and it’s the best!
Sharon: candle light dinner or beach bonfire?
Deborah: Candle light dinner
Deborah: Candle light dinner
Sharon: slow and soft or fast and hard?
Deborah: Both have their merits. :P
Deborah: Both have their merits. :P
Sharon: I forgot the most important one! Coke or Pepsi?
Deborah: Coke. No question.
Deborah: Coke. No question.
Sharon: *blinks* But whyyyyyyy?!
Deborah: Thank you so much for having me here, Sharon. I loved chatting with you!
Mornings after sucked.
Walks of shame were a necessary evil, but that didn’t mean I enjoyed shimmying back into the same trollop togs twice. I picked glitter out of my hair, then straightened my sequined top. I was officially decommissioning it. Multiple washings never quite managed to remove the lingering aura of bad decisions I made while wearing party clothes. My philosophy? Cross my fingers and hope for the most bang for the bucks spent later on new outfits.
The surly cabbie evil-eyed me to hurry up.
I complied, rooting around in my clutch for some crumpled bills before handing them over and stumbling out of the taxi onto the sidewalk.
Fresh air was a godsend after the stale bitter coffee smell I’d been trapped with during the ride. I pressed a finger to my temple, a persistent dull throb stabbing me behind my eyeballs. My residual feel good haze clashed big-time with the glaring sun screaming at me to wake up, and the buzz of a neighbor’s lawnmower cutting through the Sunday morning quiet didn’t help matters. Best get inside.
Smoothing out my mini skirt, I readied myself for my tame-my-happy-slut-self-to-boring-PG-rating body check when a wave of dizziness crashed through me. Whoa. I brought my gaze back to horizon level, swallowing hard. That sea-sickness technique was doing dick-all so I rummaged in my bag for my ginger chews.
No puking in the bushes, I chided myself, letting the spicy smooth and sweet candy fight my nausea. My mother would toss my bubble ass out if I defiled her precious rhodos.
Again.
The rise and fall of my chest as I took a few deep breaths spotlit a slight problem. My spangly blouse was missing two buttons. And I was missing a bra. Hook-up Dude had been worth the loss of a pair of socks, maybe a bargain bin thong. But the latest in purple push-up technology? No. I allowed myself a second to mourn. It had been a good and loyal bra.
The sex, on the other hand? Total crap. The girls, who were normally perky C cups, seemed a bit subdued. I couldn’t blame them. What’s-his-name had started out with all the promise of a wild stallion gallop, but he’d ended up more of a gentle trot. I didn’t know if the fault lay with the jockey or the ride, but it had been a long time since I’d seen a finish line.
Since I couldn’t keep examining my tits on the front walk with Mrs. Jepson side-eyeing me from behind her living room curtains, I thrust my chin up and clacked a staccato rhythm toward my front door on those mini torture chambers that had seemed such a good idea yesterday.
Every step made our precisely manicured lawn undulate. I clamped my lips shut, willing the ginger chews to kick in while fumbling my key into the lock. Dad had screwed up the measurements on our striking cedar and stained glass front door and, being a touch too big for the frame, it needed to be shouldered open.
I crashed into the door like a linebacker. Once I’d extricated myself and my keys from the lock, I brushed myself off, and stepped inside. Our house itself was comfortably upper middle class but not huge, since my parents preferred to spend money on trips and books instead of the overpriced real estate found in here in Vancouver. A quick glance to my left showed that the TV room was empty. I crossed my fingers that Mom and Dad were out at their squash game, my main reason for picking this specific time to sneak back in.
Really, a twenty-year-old shouldn’t have had to sneak. But then again, a twenty-year-old probably should have kept her last menial job for longer than two weeks, so I wasn’t in a position to argue rights.
I kicked off my shoes, sighing in delight at the feel of cool tile under my bare feet as I padded through the house to our homey kitchen. No one was in there either. Someone, probably Mom, had tacked the envelope with my final–and only–pay stub from the call center that I’d left lying around onto our small “miscellaneous” cork board. The gleaming quartz counters were now free of their usual clutter of papers, books, and latest gourmet food find. That meant company. Come to think of it, I did hear someone in the living room.
A study in tasteful shades of white, the large formal room was off-limits unless we had special guests. Mom had set that rule when my twin brother Ari and I were little tornados running around the place and while there was no longer a baby gate baring our way, conditioning and several memorable scoldings kept us out.
Hmmm. Could Ari be entertaining an actual human boy? Le gasp.
I beelined for the back of the house, past the row of identically framed family photos hanging in a neat grid, my head cocked. Listening for more voices, but all was quiet. Maybe I’d been wrong? I hoped not. Both finding my brother with a crush–blackmail dirt–and helping myself to the liquor cabinet were positive prospects. What better way to lose that hangover headache than get drunk again? Oh, the joys of being Canadian with socialized health care and legal drinking age of nineteen. After a year (officially) honing that skill, I imbibed at an Olympic level.
The red wine on the modular coffee table gleamed in a shaft of sunlight like its position had been ordained by the gods. I snatched up the crystal decanter, sloshing the liquid into the glass conveniently placed next to it. Once in a while, a girl could actually catch a break.
I fanned myself with one hand. The myriad of lit candles seemed a bit much for Ari’s romantic encounter, but wine drinking trumped curiosity so I chugged the booze back. My entire body cheered as the cloyingly-sweet alcohol hit my system, though I hoped it wasn’t Manischewitz because hangovers on that were a bitch. I’d slugged back half the contents when I saw my mom on the far side of the room clutch her throat, eyes wide with horror. Not her usual, “you need an intervention” horror. No, her expression indicated I’d reached a whole new level of fuck-up.
“Nava Liron Katz,” she gasped in full name outrage.
My cheeks still bulging with wine, I properly scoped out the room. Mom? Check. Dad? Check. Ari? Check? Rabbi Abrams, here to perform the ceremony to induct my brother as the latest member in the Brotherhood of David, the chosen demon hunters?
Check.
I spit the wine back into what I now realized was a silver chalice and handed it to the elderly bearded rabbi. “Carry on,” I told him. Then I threw up on his shoes.
About the Author:
Website-FB-Twitter
Goodreads
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.”
by Deborah Wilde
April 18, 2017
Genre: Urban Fantasy Romance
Publisher: Te Da Media
Number of pages: 420
Word Count: 87,400
Cover Artist: Damonza
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.
Genre: Urban Fantasy Romance
Publisher: Te Da Media
Number of pages: 420
Word Count: 87,400
Cover Artist: Damonza
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.
Excerpt:
Mornings after sucked.
Walks of shame were a necessary evil, but that didn’t mean I enjoyed shimmying back into the same trollop togs twice. I picked glitter out of my hair, then straightened my sequined top. I was officially decommissioning it. Multiple washings never quite managed to remove the lingering aura of bad decisions I made while wearing party clothes. My philosophy? Cross my fingers and hope for the most bang for the bucks spent later on new outfits.
The surly cabbie evil-eyed me to hurry up.
I complied, rooting around in my clutch for some crumpled bills before handing them over and stumbling out of the taxi onto the sidewalk.
Fresh air was a godsend after the stale bitter coffee smell I’d been trapped with during the ride. I pressed a finger to my temple, a persistent dull throb stabbing me behind my eyeballs. My residual feel good haze clashed big-time with the glaring sun screaming at me to wake up, and the buzz of a neighbor’s lawnmower cutting through the Sunday morning quiet didn’t help matters. Best get inside.
Smoothing out my mini skirt, I readied myself for my tame-my-happy-slut-self-to-boring-PG-rating body check when a wave of dizziness crashed through me. Whoa. I brought my gaze back to horizon level, swallowing hard. That sea-sickness technique was doing dick-all so I rummaged in my bag for my ginger chews.
No puking in the bushes, I chided myself, letting the spicy smooth and sweet candy fight my nausea. My mother would toss my bubble ass out if I defiled her precious rhodos.
Again.
The rise and fall of my chest as I took a few deep breaths spotlit a slight problem. My spangly blouse was missing two buttons. And I was missing a bra. Hook-up Dude had been worth the loss of a pair of socks, maybe a bargain bin thong. But the latest in purple push-up technology? No. I allowed myself a second to mourn. It had been a good and loyal bra.
The sex, on the other hand? Total crap. The girls, who were normally perky C cups, seemed a bit subdued. I couldn’t blame them. What’s-his-name had started out with all the promise of a wild stallion gallop, but he’d ended up more of a gentle trot. I didn’t know if the fault lay with the jockey or the ride, but it had been a long time since I’d seen a finish line.
Since I couldn’t keep examining my tits on the front walk with Mrs. Jepson side-eyeing me from behind her living room curtains, I thrust my chin up and clacked a staccato rhythm toward my front door on those mini torture chambers that had seemed such a good idea yesterday.
Every step made our precisely manicured lawn undulate. I clamped my lips shut, willing the ginger chews to kick in while fumbling my key into the lock. Dad had screwed up the measurements on our striking cedar and stained glass front door and, being a touch too big for the frame, it needed to be shouldered open.
I crashed into the door like a linebacker. Once I’d extricated myself and my keys from the lock, I brushed myself off, and stepped inside. Our house itself was comfortably upper middle class but not huge, since my parents preferred to spend money on trips and books instead of the overpriced real estate found in here in Vancouver. A quick glance to my left showed that the TV room was empty. I crossed my fingers that Mom and Dad were out at their squash game, my main reason for picking this specific time to sneak back in.
Really, a twenty-year-old shouldn’t have had to sneak. But then again, a twenty-year-old probably should have kept her last menial job for longer than two weeks, so I wasn’t in a position to argue rights.
I kicked off my shoes, sighing in delight at the feel of cool tile under my bare feet as I padded through the house to our homey kitchen. No one was in there either. Someone, probably Mom, had tacked the envelope with my final–and only–pay stub from the call center that I’d left lying around onto our small “miscellaneous” cork board. The gleaming quartz counters were now free of their usual clutter of papers, books, and latest gourmet food find. That meant company. Come to think of it, I did hear someone in the living room.
A study in tasteful shades of white, the large formal room was off-limits unless we had special guests. Mom had set that rule when my twin brother Ari and I were little tornados running around the place and while there was no longer a baby gate baring our way, conditioning and several memorable scoldings kept us out.
Hmmm. Could Ari be entertaining an actual human boy? Le gasp.
I beelined for the back of the house, past the row of identically framed family photos hanging in a neat grid, my head cocked. Listening for more voices, but all was quiet. Maybe I’d been wrong? I hoped not. Both finding my brother with a crush–blackmail dirt–and helping myself to the liquor cabinet were positive prospects. What better way to lose that hangover headache than get drunk again? Oh, the joys of being Canadian with socialized health care and legal drinking age of nineteen. After a year (officially) honing that skill, I imbibed at an Olympic level.
The red wine on the modular coffee table gleamed in a shaft of sunlight like its position had been ordained by the gods. I snatched up the crystal decanter, sloshing the liquid into the glass conveniently placed next to it. Once in a while, a girl could actually catch a break.
I fanned myself with one hand. The myriad of lit candles seemed a bit much for Ari’s romantic encounter, but wine drinking trumped curiosity so I chugged the booze back. My entire body cheered as the cloyingly-sweet alcohol hit my system, though I hoped it wasn’t Manischewitz because hangovers on that were a bitch. I’d slugged back half the contents when I saw my mom on the far side of the room clutch her throat, eyes wide with horror. Not her usual, “you need an intervention” horror. No, her expression indicated I’d reached a whole new level of fuck-up.
“Nava Liron Katz,” she gasped in full name outrage.
My cheeks still bulging with wine, I properly scoped out the room. Mom? Check. Dad? Check. Ari? Check? Rabbi Abrams, here to perform the ceremony to induct my brother as the latest member in the Brotherhood of David, the chosen demon hunters?
Check.
I spit the wine back into what I now realized was a silver chalice and handed it to the elderly bearded rabbi. “Carry on,” I told him. Then I threw up on his shoes.
About the Author:
Website-FB-Twitter
Goodreads
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.”
Tour giveaway
1 signed paperback copy The Unlikeable Demon Hunter
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Thanks so much for letting me stop by and chat, Sharon! This interview was a blast. :)
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed the interview.
ReplyDeleteI love this title. Can't wait to find out why I don't like her ;).
ReplyDeleteAwesome interview! I didn't realize that Tellulah Darling was your pen name! But it totally makes sense!
ReplyDeleteGreat interview! Thank you
ReplyDeleteA very lively interview.
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ReplyDeleteSites like **Simpcity** are online community forums where users gather to discuss, share, and comment on internet personalities, influencers, and social media creators. These platforms usually focus on trending figures from Instagram, TikTok, OnlyFans, and similar apps, with discussions ranging from public content reviews to rumors and fan-driven conversations. Such sites often rely on user-generated posts, threads, and media sharing, and they typically operate in a gray area regarding privacy, moderation, and content policies.
ReplyDeleteSimpcity are online community forums where users gather to discuss, share, and comment on internet personalities, influencers, and social media creators.
ReplyDeleteTikTok.com recharge is a feature that lets users add balance to their TikTok account so they can buy **TikTok Coins**. These coins are used mainly to send virtual gifts to creators during live streams or to support content on the platform. Users recharge by paying through available methods like cards or in-app payments, and the coins are then stored in their TikTok wallet. The process is safe and official when done through TikTok, and it helps creators earn rewards from their audience.
ReplyDeleteToji PFP” likely refers to profile pictures (PFPs) related to Toji Fushiguro, a popular character from the anime and manga Jujutsu Kaisen, which fans often use for avatars and wallpapers online. “Toji PFP” is a widely searched fan‑created term associated with images and artwork of that character.
ReplyDeleteYes, Toji Fushiguro is dead in the *Jujutsu Kaisen* storyline. He was killed by Satoru Gojo during the events of the Shibuya Incident arc. Despite his incredible strength and abilities, Toji met his end after a fierce battle with Gojo, who ultimately overpowered him. His death had a significant impact on the story, especially on his son, Megumi Fushiguro, who later becomes one of the central characters in the series.
ReplyDeleteMuichiro Tokito, a character from *Demon Slayer*, is 5'2" (157 cm) tall. He is known for being one of the youngest Hashira in the series, and his height reflects his youthful appearance despite his extraordinary skills and power.
ReplyDeleteMuichiro Chibi is a playful, smaller version of Muichiro Tokito, the Mist Hashira from *Demon Slayer*. This chibi form highlights his youthful and innocent traits, often showcasing him in a more adorable and comedic light. Chibi characters are usually drawn in a cute, exaggerated style with oversized heads and small bodies, making Muichiro Chibi a fun, lighter representation of the normally serious and skilled Hashira.
ReplyDeleteRuth’s Chris Steak House happy hour, often called Ruth’s Prime Hour or Sizzle, Swizzle & Swirl, is a special early-evening bar and lounge experience where you can enjoy promotionally-priced handcrafted cocktails, select wines and beers paired with upscale small plates and bar bites. Typical offerings include classic drinks like martinis, margaritas, Manhattans and highballs, half-priced or discounted wines by the glass and select draft beers, alongside tasty bites such as spicy shrimp, seared ahi tuna, lamb lollipop chops, prime burgers, sliders or other signature appetizers, all served in a relaxed but refined steakhouse setting, usually from late afternoon into early evening on weekdays.
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