Since I made it through a rough school week unscathed, I have abandoned myself to novel-reading and spent a very delightful day reading the first three in the series of vampire novels by Charlaine Harris: Dead Until Dark, Living Dead in Dallas and Club Dead. The world of the novels isn't as striking and as persuasive as Laurell K. Hamilton's, but they're very enjoyable in any case. As the titles suggest, they really fall into the small-town-regional-setting-girl-next-door-narrator-with-a-wisecracking-sense-of-humor-and-heart-of-gold mystery series thing (you know this when the titles sound vaguely hair-salon-ish); the supernatural stuff is a bonus. Good fun.
It is a strange thing that it seems virtually impossible to write novels about vampires without shading into mild-to-medium erotica. Hmm. I think the werewolves and other animal shapechangers are sexier than the vampires in this kind of book, the male vampires are too likely to have waist-length hair in Clairol colors and eyes of turquoise/lavender/etc etc which all sounds to me quite offputting.