I Am Completely Serious

Well, the thing is that AB was the first urban fantasy/paranormal romance series of a particular modern breed: the competent female protagonist with a cynical worldview doing a dangerous job and protecting the weak. She's unappreciated for it - and realistically broke, which I think is an important element here - until some equally-competent supernatural guys in positions of power show up, admire her, vy for her affections, offer her wealth and security, etc.

The latter part is obviously not a new thing for romance, but the first part was. Urban fantasy heroines pre-Blake were like typical romance heroines in that they tended to be kind of passive figures, unable to defend themselves, much less anyone else. They might have some sort of special heritage or magical powers, but it was something that for whatever reason, they didn't actively use until forced.

And then here was this whole series about this sarcastic woman going out and fighting zombies every day. What makes these books important and attractive is that Blake, though she frequently seems outclassed early on, always ends up able to take care of herself and those around her. The first book was about her rescuing Jean-Claude, the vampire who's in love with her, from a female vampire.

...But then it all turned into weird softcore BDSM erotica! And now a lot of people know more about Laurell K. Hamilton's private kinks than we originally anticipated. Books 7 and 8 (Burnt Offerings and Blue Moon) were where the problem started to get obvious, as I recall, though I think it wasn't until the latter that scenes explaining werecreature pack mating/power dynamics and analyzing people's relative sexiness actually started outnumbering plot-related scenes.

Then there was book 9, Obsidian Butterfly, which was sort of a self-conscious backtrack to the early-series formula, and obliquely and maybe-accidentally self-analytical, with several scenes directly mirroring those from the first book. But having gotten that out of her system, she threw all shame out the window and wrote the demented Narcissus in Chains, and from then on it was apparently all werecreature orgies and metaphysically-induced orgasms. (I couldn't even finish NiC, so for this I rely on the reports of others.)

The early books haven't aged well, now that there are so many others following the same basic plotline and doing it better: they're simultaneously formulaic and badly-paced, and the prose lies someplace in between utilitarian and awkward. They're also very violent - I would say unusually so - but lacking the sense of humanity required to make it feel necessary and earned. And there's a lot of really unpleasant misogyny aimed at women who aren't Blake. With maybe one exception, they're always either victims she needs to protect or monsters she needs to destroy.

Basically, I would recommend Marjorie Liu, JD Robb, or Ilona Andrews instead.