Look. I picked this up thinking, ooh, holiday story, maybe a cute twist on trauma healing with cocoa and kisses. But no. Holly Knightley said, “You know what sounds fun? Let’s emotionally waterboard a grown woman using Christmas trees, a cursed bathroom, and a man who shows up in her bedroom like the Nightmare Before Netflix.”
And I was hooked.
Like—shut-up-and-pass-me-a-panic-cookie hooked. 🍪
Cookie Marlowe (yes, that’s her real name, I’ll let you sit with that) hates Christmas. But not in a cute “I don’t like carols” way. No, this is deep, childhood-trauma-meets-sleep-paralysis-demon-with-silver-eyes kind of hate. Our girl made a pinky swear to her brother that she’d never scare him again, and instead she just kept getting haunted by her possibly imaginary holiday stalker who peels his face off every Christmas like it’s a cursed advent calendar.
But wait—it gets better.
Because when grown-up Cookie finally returns home, she runs smack into a hot lumberjack-looking man who has the same face as her childhood boogeyman… and things get weird. Like, “Is he real?” weird. “Am I in a trauma loop?” weird. “Do I like him or do I need an exorcism?” weird.
And somehow, Knightley makes it funny. The wit is sharp, the humor is dry, and Cookie’s internal monologue is unhinged in the best way. She’s sarcastic, unfiltered, and deeply traumatized—which honestly just makes her more relatable.
Is it horror?
Is it grief therapy with tinsel?
Is it a darkly comic hallucination with a Hallmark subplot?
Yes. And it works.
Knightley masterfully mixes nostalgia, tension, and absurdity. The pacing lingers when it needs to and races when it’s time to panic. Some scenes are genuinely skin-crawling (those shadow hands in the bathroom? NO THANK YOU), while others are bittersweet and tender.
But don’t get it twisted—this isn’t about romance. This is about reclaiming yourself after fear took up residence in your childhood bedroom. And that, dear reader, is way scarier than any ghost in a red plaid coat.