I have a pet peeve when it comes to paranormal romance. I can’t stand it when authors stick a couple of vampires into what is basically chick lit and call it paranormal.

You see, I didn’t get into paranormal romance as a fan of romance novels. I like urban fantasy and dark fantasy. I like vampires and werewolves and other sundry supernatural creatures. The romance I’d read in the past never really appealed to me; it was all ripping bodices and rippling abs and florid language that had me reaching for the puke bucket. But I do like well-written smut, and when I stumbled upon paranormal romance, I thought I’d hit the jackpot. Sex! With vampires! And werewolves!

And while there is some fabulous paranormal romances out there (which I’ll get around to reviewing sooner or later, I swear), there’s also an enormous mass of chick lit wearing plastic vampire fangs.

And I am not a fan of chick lit. I do not want to read about a character angsting over her weight or her looks or her lack of a man, and I certainly don’t want to read about the same wankery with a dose of tall, dark, and undead. Adding a vampire is not a foolproof way to make a genre awesome (though it does appear to make a genre sell like hotcakes).

The easiest way to guarantee that I will not read your paranormal romance? Title it something like “My Big Fat Vampire Wedding” and slap that onto a plain Jane chick lit cover featuring a handbag, a pair of shoes, and a bat.

Will the real paranormal romance please stand up? And wave your arms in the air so I can find you more easily in this mass of pink-covered impostors? Thanks.