100 books like Mistletoe and Ivy

I learned about the existence of Don’t Stop Believing through Gwen Hayes’ writing craft book Romancing the Beat. She used it as her example outline. It was the first thing I read to pick out story beats, and I meant to focus on writing craft while reading, but I fell in love with the characters. Both leads are precious! It gets me in the holiday mood but I reread this one all year round. Snowed in at Christmastime when they both secretly like the other already? Gimme gimme gimme (this book after midnight). It’s just so festive and cute.

This one is technically New Year’s holidays, not Christmas specifically, but it swept me away with the meet cute and resulting fake dating. The main couple is adorable, and so is the side couple whose wedding they’re attending. Beau? Charms my pants off. The kisses (and more) steam up my glasses. I also appreciate the nonbinary representation; Alex is hilarious. It’s funny and cute and ugh, I just love it so much.

This book made me not notice the traffic on the drive to and from my day job. I love how petty Kiskeya is, especially in the first few chapters. Also, both the leads are funny in their narration. It’s great for a li’l tee-hee-hee. I also like how the characters manage to be both similar and different – there’s enough to bond over, but they aren’t duplicates or stereotypes. Plus, who’s gonna turn down a grump/sunshine-baking partners story? Not me. 

Okay, first of all, one lead starts off hating the other. Sign me up, right? I like how they’re both lesfic writers but the first two chapters immediately juxtapose where they are in their processes – one is a nobody who can’t write fast enough and the other is a big name with writer’s block. They get roomed together at a writing retreat and then snowed in, so double the forced proximity. We love to see it. For me, this book is a lovely balance of Christmassiness (let me have this word, okay?) and writerliness. It helps me remember why I enjoy writing my queer romances – for the love of storytelling, not for money or fame. (But note: I don’t condone most of the writing opinions put forth in this story.)

I’ve been a big fan of James Tynion IV since his prolific run on Batman. He has a really strong understanding of how to write compelling characters while still exploring an interesting world.

In Wynd, he has created a wildly innovative world of magic creatures and political conflict. The love story is adorable and creates an interesting parallel to the exploration of Wynd’s character.

To me, what’s most striking about this book, a queer retelling of “Snow White,” is that in addition to the POV of the Snow White character, Lynet, there’s also narration from Mina, the Evil Queen insert. Only in this retelling Mina isn’t a superficial villain.

In fact, she’s no villain at all. I find her to be a complex heroine, and her relationship with Lynet is equally rich and complicated. I was compelled by Lynet and Mina’s struggles under the weight of feminine and royal expectations. Despite their conflicts, they are more alike than they are different, and their journey to realizing this was so satisfying.

The sapphic romance between Lynet and a surgeon provides a lovely subplot that adds to, rather than distracts from, the main storyline. One of my all-time favorite sapphic retellings.

I was immediately enthralled by this queer Jewish-found fantasy book, pitched as Scorpio Races meets Peaky Blinders.

The daughter of a renowned family facing impending ruin teams up with a rogue enchanter and an ambitious heir to win a deadly horse race using forbidden magic.

As I read this book in a single sitting, my heart felt like I was the one running a race. I loved the entire gang, as well as the star of this particular found family—the cat. 

I’ve been a huge advocate for queer representation in kids’ and YA stories for years, but as I’ve gotten older, I’ve started to crave stories about queer adults. I want to know what life looks like after coming out, after coming of age. That’s why I was delighted to discover A Marvellous Light, an Edwardian-era romantic caper chock-full of sprawling country manors, scheming aristocrats, and lots and lots of magic!

If you’re looking for a golden retriever/black cat romance with Jane Austen or E. M. Forster vibes, this one might be for you, though the previous warning regarding unsuspecting cishets still applies: despite its old-timey setting, this book doesn’t pull any punches in its steamier scenes, taking a refreshingly frank and direct approach to sexuality. 

This book is just fun, but it’s also a weird kind of fun. Short and to the point, it follows two monstrous men as they wreak deadly havoc on a dark little town. It leans heavily on the media’s history of queer-coding villains in stories and allows the characters to be unapologetically evil. Readers who enjoy this book will find themselves thinking the pair are strangely cute together, all the while trying to remember that they’re very dangerous. It’s great as an audiobook and makes the perfect palate cleaners between longer books. 

A story with magic and mystery, like my first book, Daughter of the Burning City is unlike any book I have read. The magic system within the book is called “Jynx-work” and the users of the magic often inhabit the traveling city circus of Gomorrah Festival, a place of vice and sin shunned by the more pious world around them. 

Sorina is the first illusion worker in years. She creates tangible illusions, ones with personalities and free will to exist outside of her control. But when they start dying like real people would in a series of gruesome murders, there appears more to Sorina’s magic than meets the eye. I love magic mysteries because they keep readers engaged and wanting to unravel the questions left behind during shocking twists.