Urban Fantasy/Paranormal

(a friendly ramble from yours truly)

You ever read a book, all excited because there are ghosts or witches or old creaky mansions, and then — halfway through — you realize the story has suddenly left the building and wandered into the land of same old, same old? I swear I’ve closed more books in frustration than I care to admit, muttering to myself like a crotchety wizard whose potion went sour. Paranormal fiction is my comfort zone and my playground, but even I have a few things that make me sigh into my coffee like a disappointed parent.

I thought I’d jot down a little rant today. The kind you’d overhear in a bookstore aisle between two readers who smell like evergreen candles and used paperbacks. If you’re nodding along by the end, then at least I know I’m not alone.

1. The dreaded paranormal love triangle

We might as well start with the big one. My personal sore spot.
The thing that crawls across my brain like a cold finger at 2 a.m.

The love triangle.

I get why people write them — tension, swoony jealousy, a little emotional tug-of-war — but usually it just makes me want to reach into the page and bonk all three characters on the head with the nearest enchanted object. Especially when every book feels like it’s contractually obligated to include a brooding vampire and a loyal werewolf fighting over the same girl like prize cattle.

Look, I lived through the Twilight era. I wore the merch. I stood firmly in the Jacob camp, tail and all. (No shame. Wolf boys forever.) But the market got saturated pretty quick. Now when I sense a triangle brewing, I tighten up like someone just whispered brussel sprouts. I’d rather watch two characters build something real than sit through a recurring chapter of “who will she pick this week?” like I’m tuning into a supernatural dating show.

My dream? Give me a paranormal story where the romance is subtle, slow, or at least not a tug-of-war shaped like an isosceles.

2. The instant “we just met but now we’re soul-bonded forever” romance

Picture this:
Main character bumps into a mysterious stranger at the cemetery.
They exchange exactly twelve words.
Boom — cosmic destiny. Eternal connection. Mate-for-life without discussion.

My left eye twitches every time.

I want sparks, sure, but sparks usually fly after friction. Let them talk. Let them argue. Let one of them forget the other’s birthday. I love paranormal romance as much as the next reader clutching their Kindle like a security blanket, but I like to feel it grow. Not get smacked with it like a rogue broomstick swinging out of a closet.

3. Characters discovering supernatural powers and just… rolling with it

If I woke up tomorrow and found out I could move objects with my mind, there would be chaos in my kitchen. Flour everywhere. A ceiling fan bent into modern art. I wouldn’t blink calmly, accept my destiny, and immediately learn to levitate with grace like some shimmering chosen-one Olympic gymnast.

Yet in a surprising number of books, characters shrug and adapt like they just learned to ride a bike. No panic googling. No sweat. No “oh god did I just set Aunt Linda’s curtains on fire?”

I want mess. I crave mess.

Show me someone blowing up a toaster by accident. Show me a witch trying to cast a spell with a cold and accidentally summoning banjo-playing ghosts. Give me the weird.

4. The immortal who behaves like they’re 19 forever

Immortal characters who’ve lived hundreds of years yet talk like they’re fresh out of freshman orientation? That gets me. If you’ve survived plagues, wars, the invention of microwavable pizza, and you still use slang like a TikTok influencer… something ain’t adding up.

Give me an immortal who collects stamps. One who’s tired. One who reads weather almanacs for fun. One whose knees crack when they stand up even though technically they shouldn’t have knees that old. I’d follow that character for 400 pages without complaint.

5. Every ancient evil being defeated by… true love

Now don’t get me wrong — I enjoy affection, emotional healing, quality hand-holding — but sometimes the final showdown feels like it was solved with a motivational poster. You’ve got a demon older than civilization, made of shadow and hunger, and the solution is a heartfelt declaration and one perfect kiss?

I’m just saying: maybe bring salt and iron too. And an exit plan.

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I say all this with affection, of course. Paranormal fiction is the genre that made teen-me stay up past midnight with a flashlight wedged between the pages. It still gives me goosebumps and that fizzy feeling in my ribs. The stuff that annoys me often shows up in books I still enjoyed. Maybe that’s the magic — loving something enough to poke fun at it like a friend who keeps misplacing their keys.

And, honestly, if someone writes a story about a ghostly love triangle with banjo-summoning spell mistakes and an exhausted immortal who just wants to take a nap… I’ll probably read it anyway.

Because I’m weak. And curious. And powered by equal parts irritation and obsession.

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It starts with a smell. Cedar. Warm, nostalgic, familiar—and impossibly strong in a house that’s been empty for decades. For Marek, the scent is just the beginning. Soon he sees the ghost: a handsome stranger in a black suit, his eyes filled with grief. As Marek’s connection to the spirit deepens, his present with Randy begins to fracture even further. Caught between the living and the dead, Marek has to decide what kind of life—and love—he truly wants. Gothic, romantic, and a little eerie, A Touch of Cedar is a story about the ties between past and present, and the secrets old houses never quite give up. Grab your copy from my Web Store or from your favorite online retailer.

Today’s post is a just for fun type of post where I just decide to be silly.

So, I don’t know what kind of moods other people wake up with, but I swear mine rotate between “I hope I meet a ghost today” and “if a shadow moves wrong I’m out the door.” So naturally, the idea of listing which paranormal creatures I’d happily say hello to—and which ones would send me sprinting—felt like the sort of thing my brain was built for.

So let’s stroll through the supernatural wish list I didn’t know I needed.

Five Creatures I’d Actually Want to Meet

1. Friendly Ghosts

Yes, I said friendly—I’m not talking about the sort that rattle your closet doors at 3:17 a.m. I mean the gentle ones who just want a chat, maybe a cup of tea if they can manage to hold the mug. I’ve always had this soft spot for spirits who hang around because they enjoy the place, not because they’re trapped in eternal doom.
Plus, think about the stories they could tell. I’d happily listen to someone from 1892 rant about how expensive bread used to be.

2. Selkies

Okay, look. I’m gay and selkies are canonically beautiful, sad-eyed shapeshifters with tragic backstories. I’m not made of stone. I can already picture myself standing on some rocky coastline, the wind smacking my face, while a selkie tells me about the ocean like it’s an ex they’re still weirdly in love with.
I’d be hooked immediately. Probably writing poetry about it by the next morning. It’s who I am.

3. Kitsune

Fox spirits with a mischievous streak? Yes, please. I feel like we’d get along. I’m a sucker for clever conversation, and kitsune always give off this vibe like they know ninety-seven secrets and they’re only willing to share one—if you ask really nicely.
I also like the idea of them popping in just to keep life interesting. “Oh hi, your keys? Hmm. Maybe they’re behind the couch. Maybe they’re inside a dream. Who’s to say?”

4. Brownies (the household kind, not the chocolate kind—although I’d meet those too)

There’s something cozy about the idea of a little house helper who cleans at night and rearranges your spoons for fun. I wouldn’t mind a resident brownie as long as it didn’t judge the number of mugs I leave in the sink.
I imagine them side-eying me every time I forget to dust, but honestly? Valid.

5. Benevolent Forest Spirits

Think gentle energy, moss-covered stones, mushrooms that glow for no reason. I’ve always been drawn to wooded places, and meeting one of those leafy guardians would probably feel like being hugged by the entire forest.
Plus, they’d probably smell like cedar and rain. Sign me up.

Five Creatures I’d Run From Without Looking Back

1. Skinwalkers

Nope. Absolutely not. I’ve heard enough stories to know these are a hard pass. Anything that can mimic people or animals is an automatic “turn around and pretend you saw nothing” situation.
I’m a curious guy, but I’m not that curious.

2. Wendigos

The hunger, the winter woods, the bone-chilling shrieks? Yeah…no. I get cold enough just stepping outside in November.
If I ever heard one of these things in the distance, I’d be gone so fast my shoes would still be on the porch.

3. Black-Eyed Children

I don’t care if they’re just looking for directions or want to borrow a phone charger—those kids aren’t coming inside. Every story about them sends a cold prickle right up my arms.
If a child knocks at my door at night with eyes like a void? I’m locking everything and pretending I’m asleep.

4. Banshees

Nothing personal, but the scream alone would send me into the next dimension.
And yes, I know they’re more harbingers than attackers, but that doesn’t matter. If someone shrieks near me with that kind of force, I’m heading straight to therapy.

5. Shadow People

These show up when you’re groggy, vulnerable, and half-asleep. That’s rude. I’d appreciate a creature that respects personal space and does not hover near the bed like it wants to ask if you’ve accepted darkness into your life.
I’ve had enough sleep paralysis moments to know they are not invited.

Final Thoughts From Someone Who’d Probably Still Go Into the Haunted House Anyway

I’ve realized something while writing this: I’m equal parts brave and foolish. I’d happily chat with a centuries-old selkie, but the second a shadow moves in a way I don’t like, I’m yelping like a startled cat.

Still, the supernatural has this way of making the world feel bigger than the daily grind. It whispers that there’s more out there—more mystery, more beauty, more strangeness, more stories.

And honestly? That’s the fun of it. Letting your imagination wander into places where ghosts pour tea and forest spirits hum in the trees.

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My Ghost Oracle Box Set (Nick Michaelson) is now available from your favorite online retailer.

Books 1-3: https://books2read.com/u/mBKOAv
Books 4-6: https://books2read.com/u/mVxr2l

I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve been halfway through a book and thought, Wait—wasn’t this supposed to be urban fantasy? Why are they making out in the middle of a demon battle? And then twenty pages later, it’s all declarations of eternal love under a blood moon while the apocalypse politely waits its turn. Don’t get me wrong—I love both genres—but sometimes the line between them is so blurry it’s practically doing the cha-cha.

Let’s start with the vibes

Paranormal romance usually feels like it’s whispering, “Sure, there are ghosts and vampires and shapeshifters, but let’s talk about feelings.” Urban fantasy, on the other hand, is like, “The city’s crawling with monsters, I haven’t slept in three days, and my coffee’s gone cold.” One is about love with monsters, and the other is about fighting monsters (though sometimes both involve a suspiciously attractive vampire).

I always picture paranormal romance as candlelight and secrets—something sultry with a touch of doom. Urban fantasy, though? That’s neon lights reflected in puddles, where the heroine’s trench coat flaps dramatically as she mutters spells under her breath. The difference isn’t just in setting—it’s in focus. Romance drives one; adventure drives the other.

The emotional center

If you strip away the supernatural bits, a paranormal romance is still a romance at its heart. The story doesn’t work unless the relationship does. Take away the love story, and the whole thing collapses like a haunted Jenga tower. Think Twilight or A Discovery of Witches. The danger, the curses, the fangs—they’re all there to crank up the tension between the couple.

Urban fantasy, on the other hand, can lose the love subplot entirely and still stand tall. (Buffy the Vampire Slayer walks that line beautifully, though it leans romantic at times.) In UF, the emotional core might be duty, identity, or power rather than love. It’s about who you become while fighting off the dark things that go bump in the alley.

My ongoing confusion (and delight)

As someone who writes paranormal mysteries and the occasional ghostly noir, I’ve wandered into that foggy middle ground more than once. Sometimes I’ll start writing an urban fantasy scene—something gritty, crime-soaked, full of ghosts and moral grayness—and suddenly, two characters decide to stare longingly at each other across a séance table. And there goes my tone.

But honestly? I kind of like that gray area. Readers who love paranormal romance enjoy the emotional stakes; readers who love urban fantasy crave danger and discovery. Mix them just right, and you get that perfect cocktail of adrenaline and yearning. Think Ilona Andrews or Jeaniene Frost—authors who blend both without apology.

The rule of priorities

Here’s how I usually tell the difference when I’m trying to label a book for my own sanity:

• If you remove the romance and the story falls apart, it’s paranormal romance.
• If you remove the romance and the story still holds, it’s urban fantasy.

Easy enough, right? Except when it’s not. Some books really do walk the tightrope—especially those with recurring couples where the romance simmers in the background while the world burns. The Mercy Thompson and _Kate Daniels_series both started closer to urban fantasy but slowly wandered into paranormal romance territory. (It’s the slow-burn effect. Gets you every time.)

A matter of mood

To me, paranormal romance feels lush and dangerous, like falling in love during a thunderstorm. Urban fantasy feels sharp-edged, like trying to light a cigarette in the wind. They share DNA—magic, mystery, and the occasional brooding immortal—but they live on different emotional frequencies.

And maybe that’s the real beauty of it. These genres keep borrowing from each other, which makes both richer. I’ve read plenty of UF books that had just enough romance to keep things spicy, and plenty of paranormal romances that delivered action scenes worthy of a blockbuster.

So where’s the line?

The short answer: there isn’t a fixed one. It shifts like fog depending on the story. Some readers want more kissing, others want more kicking. Personally, I’ll take both. Give me a demon-hunting detective who’s too tired for love—until someone ghosts (literally) into his life and messes up everything he thought he knew. That’s the sweet spot.

If you’re writing or reading in either space, don’t worry too much about labels. Just ask yourself what’s driving the story: the heart or the hunt. Everything else is just decoration—fanged decoration, sure, but still.

So Yeah…

At the end of the day, I think the best stories in both genres remember one simple truth: people crave connection—whether it’s saving the city, saving each other, or both at the same time. And really, who says we can’t have our ghosts and our kisses too?

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Buying a fixer-upper is always risky, but for Marek and Randy, the risk isn’t just financial. Their new Michigan farmhouse comes with no hot running water, endless repairs… and a resident ghost. Marek can’t ignore the young man who appears in fleeting visions, dressed in old-fashioned clothes and radiating sorrow. While Randy struggles with his new job and their strained romance, Marek is pulled deeper into the farmhouse’s past—a past that demands to be remembered. A Touch of Cedar is about the things that haunt us: broken trust, lost love, and tragedies that refuse to stay silent.

Get your copy HERE