There’s a reason my first vampire romance is called HUNGER. For me, the allure of a vampire can be summed up with that one simple word and its myriad connotations. Hunger is a quality all vampires from Barnabas to Lestat, from Louis to Angel, from Spike to Edward possess.
Aching. Yearning. Starving. Craving.
Vampires in romance are the walking embodiment of cell-deep desire. A romance featuring a vampire is going to deliver intensity that can’t be touched by any other kind of a hero.
This is so not Let’s-have-a-cup-of-coffee-and-become-Twitter-pals.
This is need.
This is fierce.
There’s nothing lukewarm about a vampire. Though his heart might be cold, his passion is definitely not.
And I think it’s that lack of so-so sensabilities that makes vampires not only interesting, but constantly vital in fiction.
My mother sighed over Frank Lengella’s Dracula just as countless of us sigh over Eric and Edward today.
What woman wouldn’t be fascinated by being wanted with that level of intensity…even if it is a little frightening?
In HUNGER, Dillon is the villain, but he also desires Holly, the heroine, with such devotion that by the end the reader is hoping and wondering if wicked Dillon will one day meet a woman who wants him in equal measure. (Stay tuned;>)
In a world where guys can too often forget to call, refuse to call, yawn through a call or loose your number who’s to blame us for escaping into fictional worlds where vampire heroes(or villains) are no where near tepid?
The appeal of the vampire paranormal mirrors the appeal of the romance genre itself.
A man whose interest is zeroed in on a woman. The woman.
the kind that lasts forever… even after the happily ever after.