Christmas Wishes & Irish Kisses by Debbie Johnson.
Published by Storm Publishing — thank you to the publisher and NetGalley for my gifted ARC.
There are two kinds of people in the world: those who pretend they’re too cool for holiday romances, and those who are lying. Christmas Wishes & Irish Kisses hits all the sweet spots—festive small-town charm, a will-they-won’t-they reunion, and just enough emotional wreckage to keep things spicy. Debbie Johnson doesn’t just write cozy. She writes emotionally layered cozy—with sarcasm, actual stakes, and the occasional tear hiding under your peppermint hot chocolate.
Ellie de Vere, our heroine, is a jaded, overworked New Yorker who makes the very Hallmark-movie decision to flee the city for her quaint childhood village of St Tilda. But let me be clear—Ellie is no Christmas caricature. She’s sharp, funny, and emotionally frayed in a way that feels very adult and very real. She’s come home to help her ailing father run the family inn through the chaos of the holiday season. Cue the twinkle lights, the snow, and of course, the past.
Enter Liam. Her ex-best friend. The one who shattered her teenage heart before ghosting the village two decades ago. Naturally, he’s back. Naturally, he’s aged like wine left in an oak barrel guarded by angels. Naturally, he has a daughter. Because this is a Christmas romance and rules are rules.
Liam’s daughter, Bella, by the way, is a scene-stealer. She’s not your classic precocious child trope—she’s layered, thoughtful, and occasionally savage in the way only a teenager with no time for your unresolved issues can be. Her presence adds real dimension, and she forces both Liam and Ellie to behave like semi-functional adults. Mostly. Kind of. They try.
Let’s be honest: the central romance here is classic second-chance catnip. Misunderstood pasts, long-lingering chemistry, the awkward dance of “I definitely still have feelings but I’m pretending not to.” It could have felt tired, but it doesn’t. Johnson keeps it fresh by grounding the story in real emotional weight. There’s history between these characters—both good and gutting—and it doesn’t get resolved with a simple mistletoe kiss. They fumble, they fight, they flirt. It’s messy. And that’s what makes it satisfying.
There’s a wonderful rhythm to the dialogue, sharp and witty without ever tipping into rom-com farce. Johnson has a gift for making even the quietest moments feel alive. Whether it’s a scene of Ellie teasing her dad about British vs. American phrases or a tension-laced fireside conversation with Liam, the emotional undercurrent never lets up.
And I haven’t even talked about the setting. St Tilda is fictional, but I’d pack a suitcase tomorrow. Snow-dusted cottages, twinkling pub lights, a local Christmas market full of awkward reunions and nosy neighbors who know too much—it’s all there. And yet, Johnson resists the urge to make it saccharine. The town has layers too. There’s a sense of history, of roots that run deep even when you want to pull them up and run.
Now, let’s talk about tone. This book could have gone full Hallmark, but instead it balances the line between heartfelt and hilarious. Ellie’s inner monologue is the kind of dry, self-aware wit I live for. There’s something deeply relatable in her skepticism—her refusal to instantly buy into the “magic of Christmas” trope. But the magic still gets to her. Of course it does. It got to me, too.
There are heavier threads woven into the tinsel—illness, regret, fractured families, the slow ache of time lost. And yet, it’s never heavy-handed. Johnson writes grief and hope with the same care, letting them coexist in a way that feels honest. You don’t just root for Ellie and Liam to get together. You root for them to heal, to grow, to find their way back to who they were before everything fell apart.
One of my favorite lines (and trust me, I highlighted a lot of them):
“Coming home wasn’t supposed to feel like this—like every fairy light was wired directly to the parts of me I’d tried to switch off.”
Yeah. That one got me.
This book isn’t just feel-good. It’s feel-everything. Cozy, yes, but never shallow. Romantic, yes, but earned. And the humor? Sharp enough to cut through any holiday cynicism you might be nursing.
So if you’re in the mood for a rom-com that actually respects your brain, doesn’t shy away from messy emotions, and still delivers the Christmas vibes in full sparkly force, Christmas Wishes & Irish Kisses is your next read. Fuzzy socks and a festive drink strongly encouraged.
Five out of five stars.
Because if I could live in this book until January, I would.
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