A Book A Week

It’s officially feeling like Christmas around my house this week. The weather has cooled, the tree is up and glowing, the lights are strung across the porch, and every corner is decked out in holiday cheer. I’m fully in the spirit of the season. This time of year also nudges my reading habits in a slightly different direction. I still reach for my usual genres, but I also like to weave in a few festive titles.

After more than a decade of holiday reading (ever since I started this blog back in 2012), it’s become increasingly difficult to find new seasonal books to try. So I did what any self-respecting millennial would do: I Googled a list. Richard Paul Evans’s novels showed up on nearly every roundup I came across, even though I’d somehow never read him before. I decided to begin with his first book, The Christmas Box. It's a short, sweet, and sentimental fable with a message I think will resonate with many readers.

Richard is a busy father, working tirelessly to build the life he believes his family deserves. Unfortunately, that often means he’s more consumed by work than by time with his wife and young daughter. Despite his effort, the family still struggles to make ends meet. Then, almost by chance, Richard stumbles into what feels like a miracle.

A wealthy, older woman is seeking a family to live on her estate and help with cooking, cleaning, and other small household tasks. In return, she offers not only a salary but room and board in her spacious home. It seems too good to be true, yet it’s the very blessing Richard has been hoping for. As the family settles in, the arrangement proves to be a perfect fit.

Everything changes when Richard discovers an old box in the attic, filled with letters written by a grieving mother. As he reads them, piece by piece, he begins to understand the quiet sorrow carried by the woman who hired them. Through her story—and his growing awareness of what truly matters—Richard is gently led toward the deeper, more enduring meaning of the Christmas season.

I’ll be honest, The Christmas Box is a book that could be easy to bristle at. In the 30th Anniversary Edition that I read, Richard Paul Evans even admits in his introduction that his writing has evolved since he first penned this story on a whim decades ago. The novella is overtly sentimental, built on a simple premise and a predictable arc. And yet, there’s something undeniably enduring about the message of this story.

At its heart, The Christmas Box is about faith, family, and the importance of being present during the holiday season. It’s a universal reminder to focus on what truly matters, even when that means letting other priorities fall away. As I read, I found myself reflecting on the ways I’ve structured my own life—those late nights spent trying to squeeze in just a little more work, only to wake up and repeat the cycle the next day, often without carving out enough time for family and friends. It all adds up before you realize it, leaving you wondering how the time slipped through your fingers.

And that, I think, is the quiet power of The Christmas Box. Stories like this one nudge us to slow down, live in the moment, and savor the warmth that comes from community, especially at this time of year.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2025, 97)

Such a Fun Age opens with an all-too-familiar and uncomfortable scene. A young Black woman walking through an upscale grocery store with a small white child is confronted by security, who assumes she must have kidnapped the girl. A crowd forms, someone starts filming, and Emira—mortified, angry, and just trying to do her job—is thrust into the kind of viral spectacle that she never dreamed she'd find herself a part of. When the child’s father arrives and clears things up, Emira wants nothing more than to put the whole incident behind her. Little does she know, this is only the beginning. 

From there, we get to know Emira more intimately. She's twenty-five, broke, drifting, and genuinely fond of watching little Briar, the daughter of her boss, Alix Chamberlain. Alix is everything Emira isn’t—wealthy, confident, and used to getting exactly what she wants. She’s built a brand on teaching women to claim their power, and when she learns about the grocery store incident, she becomes determined to “fix” things for Emira. With Emira approaching the birthday that will remove her from her parents’ health insurance plan, Alix sees an opportunity to guide her into a more stable future. But when the grocery store video resurfaces and draws someone from Alix’s past back into her orbit, both women find themselves barreling toward a collision that challenges everything they believe about themselves and each other.

Such a Fun Age finds Kiley Reid delivering a debut that deftly explores race, privilege, and the complicated dimensions of motherhood. She anchors the novel in characters who feel strikingly real and heightens the tension by making her two leads perfect foils. Alix is obsessed with the appearance of perfection—she has the perfect husband, the perfect career, and she’s determined to raise the perfect child. Emira, meanwhile, is both intrigued by Alix’s polished world and skeptical of it. She can imagine the appeal of that kind of stability, even sees flashes of a future she might want for herself, yet she can’t shake the suspicion that the whole thing is built on something hollow. That tension makes for compelling drama that kept me glued to the pages.

Reid strikes a remarkable balance between thematic depth, character development, and narrative momentum, crafting a story that challenges you even as it propels you forward. And it all culminates in one of the most satisfying, karmic endings I’ve read in ages. This is a fantastic debut from an author clearly just beginning to make her mark on the literary world.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2025, 96)

December is here, and with it has come some very welcome colder weather in South Texas. My house is fully decorated for the holidays, and I’ve spent the last several nights curled up on the couch by the fireplace, snuggled up with my dogs and a good book. Several years ago, I read and enjoyed Greg Kincaid’s Christmas novel Noelle, the third story featuring characters first introduced in his hit novel A Dog Named Christmas. Even though I hadn’t read that first book, I was charmed by Noelle’s sweet message and told myself I’d eventually go back and start the series from the beginning. This week, nestled between my two dogs on the couch, I finally did just that. 

George McCray has always been protective of his son, Todd. Todd, who faces certain developmental challenges, still lives on the family’s Kansas farm well into young adulthood. George knows his son’s heart is good, but he also knows how unkind the world can be. As Christmas approaches, Todd learns that the local animal shelter is seeking families to foster their dogs for the holidays, giving the animals a brief respite from shelter life. Todd is instantly taken with the idea and longs to bring a dog home for the season. George is more hesitant. The thought of Todd bonding with a dog only to face the inevitable heartbreak of returning it on December 26th fills him with dread.

But Todd’s persistence—and his unfailing optimism—win out. Soon, the McCrays welcome a lovable dog into their home. Still, Todd can’t help but think about all the other dogs destined to spend the holiday in cages. So, using his natural charm and determination, he rallies his entire community to join the Adopt a Dog for Christmas program. What begins as one boy’s simple act of kindness becomes a lesson in compassion that transforms not just his family, but the whole town, reminding everyone of the true spirit of the season.

A Dog Named Christmas is a sweet little holiday story that highlights the power of community, the comfort of family, and the loyal love of our four-legged friends. Greg Kincaid writes with an approachable, heartfelt prose that perfectly suits this sentimental tale. Yes, it’s predictable and reads like something straight out of a Hallmark holiday movie, but honestly, that’s exactly the kind of story I’m perfectly happy to curl up with this time of year. In fact, the novel was later adapted into just such a film.

My only real complaint is the way the book handles Todd’s accessibility needs. Written in 2008, it includes the “R” word, which caught me completely off guard. Having read the third book in the series, it’s clear Kincaid’s perspective evolved with the times, but readers should be aware of that characterization before diving in. That said, I still enjoyed this cozy holiday read, especially while snuggled up with my own two dogs.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2025, 95)