Sorry. No Blood Suckers.

It’s only natural that my novel, Curse Me Not, should fall into the genre that I read the most and like the best—paranormal romance. What’s unnatural, however, is the novel doesn’t involve any of the usual suspects found in the genre. Not a one. In fact, to some paranormal romance lovers, I may have committed a sacrilege.

For instance, Curse Me Not manages just fine without:

• A vampire, whether good or evil, teenage or daddy of ‘em all
• A werewolf or other furry shape-shifter who just happens to make hairy look good
• A witch with bodacious boobs or a wicked laugh
• A fay creature such as fairy, sprite, elf, faun, brownie, nymph . . . you know, the basic fantasy line-up.
• A ghost, spirit or banshee (Well, come to think of it, one of my characters does qualify as a banshee in a non-paranormal sort of way. In the South, we call 'em bitches!)
• A god or mythic being (C’mon! If there really had been an Atlantis and an Atlantean had lived for every Atlantean written about, well, it would explain why the mythical island sank.)

Seriously, folks, I haven’t broken any law by bringing a new twist to paranormal romance. After all, the genre is a subset of “speculative fiction.” To quality as paranormal romance, Curse Me Not just has to boast an element—In addition to romance—that’s outside the “real world.”

Nonetheless, the paranormal element in my novel is not the existence of auras. I’m not ready to say auras aren’t real. Nor am I talking about curses on those auras. No way would I dismiss the efficacy of curses on some people out there.

No, the truest paranormal element found in Curse Me Not is my heroine herself, an unsophisticated woman who can see auras and clean away curses—a “bodywasher.” She doesn’t kick ass, she’s flawed and she’s way past her teens. Now that’s paranormal.