Move over Brad and Antonio.

One woman’s fascination with the occult has beguiled her to resurrect a centuries-old fantasy and turn it into a modern-day true-love fest just in time for Valentine’s Day.

It seems author and psychotherapist Valerie Hoffman has captured the brass ring with her new book, "Vampire Royalty: The Rebellion," by convincing the lovelorn to bury their obsessions for today’s obvious hunks and stake out her "porphyrians" that encapsulate all the seductive powers of Dracula.

But wait . . . don’t hang your tattered, rejected heart on my take because I didn’t read the book. It was only after I received an e-mail from Hoffman’s publicist, pitching a vampire-Valentine angle, that I took a peek at the condensed version on her Web site. Up until then, I had been floundering over what to write about for this love-conquers-all column.

Well, I’m still floundering, but I found Hoffman’s premises for the book interesting.

I guess I just like the idea of harping on bizarre, wigged-out enthrallment that gets one’s blood coursing. Much like that of the grounded astronaut who took an impassioned 900-mile road trip from Houston to Orlando to face her nemesis . . . in a diaper.

Now, there’s one love-thrashed crazy who could have been easily seduced by any Dracula-type had she only stopped for a wee-wee at a Mississippi boondocks gas station. As it turns out, the land of happy families was her Waterloo.

In any case, I decided to call Hoffman to find out exactly what gave her the idea to tackle a book about yet another couple of embattled vampires - one wanting to take over the world and the other trying to find true love without the need to suck all that blood.

The TV series "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" wasn’t one of my faves because it was about as absurd and unbelievable as any novel will be based on the life of Anna Nicole Smith. But Buffy, along with a host of other Saturday matinee, spine-tingling, neck-biting Hollywood productions, did the trick for Hoffman, so who am I to say?

I have to admit there is a sort of tantalizing enigma that comes with having a strange bat/man descend upon your body in the middle of the night just to bite your neck.

After the scared you-know-what feeling is replaced by intoxicating endorphins and provocative desires for a sometimes man/sometimes bat, I’d think a little guilt might follow along with the fear of contracting immortality. After all, who knows where those teeth have been.

I’d have only one request of Count von Count if I had to live forever in a lusting fantasy. Please don’t let it be with my body! Give me a drop-dead gorgeous one like Pam Anderson’s . . . before the gigantic boobs.

And, while I’m rambling on about lasting love and looks, did you ever examine engagement pictures of couples in the paper and pit their looks against each another? There’s always one partner who’s not quite as attractive - uglier actually - than the other. You can almost bet who will be the one to ask for a divorce, thus breaking the vow "till death do us part."

Hoffman, on the other hand, claims true love is worth waiting and fighting for, and if you’ve found it, she says not to let anything stand in your way, because romance lives!

Tell that one to Astro-nut Lady.