What He'd Put Under the Tree: A Holiday Gift Guide, Written by Three of My Heroes
Photo by Photo by Büşra Salkım on Unsplash on Unsplash
Every December, my inbox fills up with the same question: "What should I get my bookish friend who's obsessed with your heroes?" This year, I decided to go straight to the source. I pulled three of my favorite hero archetypes aside — the brooding billionaire, the small-town firefighter, and the second-chance ex — and told them to build a gift guide.
They took it very seriously. The billionaire hired a consultant. The firefighter made a spreadsheet in his turnout gear. The ex wrote his section by hand, which, frankly, tracks.
The Brooding Billionaire Buys...
1. A first edition of her favorite book. He doesn't wrap it. He leaves it on her pillow with a note that says only, "You mentioned this once." He remembers everything. That's the whole problem with him.
2. Cashmere, in her exact color. Not the color she wears — the color she stops and looks at in store windows but never buys for herself. He noticed. He always notices.
3. A private bookshop hour. He rents out her favorite indie bookstore after closing, stocks the back table with her most-wanted titles, and waits in the fiction aisle pretending he isn't nervous. He is. Enormously.
4. A weekend with no itinerary. For a man who schedules his life in fifteen-minute increments, giving away control is the gift. She understands that. That's why she cries.
The Small-Town Firefighter Buys...
5. A handmade ornament. It's slightly lopsided and painted at the hardware store's kids' craft table, and he's weirdly proud of it. She puts it front and center on the tree every single year.
6. His flannel. Not a new one. His. It smells like him — sawdust, coffee, a little smoke. She "forgets" to return it for eight months. This is not an accident on either side.
7. A thermos and a standing date. Sunrise at the overlook, thermos of hot chocolate, truck heater running. He planned it for weeks. It cost him eleven dollars and it's the best thing he's ever given anyone.
8. Dog treats and a dog. Okay, the dog was technically a rescue situation, but the timing on Christmas morning was absolutely calculated. The dog is named after a country song. She never stood a chance.
9. A hand-carved bookmark. He whittled it during a long shift. It's not perfect. Neither is he. She uses it in every book she reads forever.
The Second-Chance Ex Buys...
10. The mixtape. Er, playlist. Every song from the summer they lost. He agonized over the order for three days. She listens to it in the car and has to pull over at track four.
11. The ticket stub, framed. From the movie they saw on their first date, the one he kept in his wallet for six years because he couldn't throw it away and couldn't explain why. Now he doesn't have to explain. He just hands her the frame.
12. Her coffee order, memorized, delivered at 7 a.m. sharp. Extra shot, oat milk, no sugar — the order she switched to after they broke up. He learned it all over again. That's the point. That's the whole point.
And the Three He'd Definitely Get Wrong...
Look, my heroes are wonderful, but they are not infallible, and holiday shopping is where the cracks show.
The Wrong One #1: The gym membership. The billionaire thought this was "practical and thoughtful." It was neither. Do not buy the heroine a gym membership, sir. We've discussed this.
The Wrong One #2: The waffle maker. The firefighter bought a waffle maker because she "seemed like a breakfast person." She is not a breakfast person. She is a toaster pastry person. He eats a lot of waffles now, alone, reflectively.
The Wrong One #3: The apology wrapped as a gift. The second-chance ex once put a heartfelt, three-page letter of groveling apology inside a necklace box. The necklace was lovely. The letter was better. He should have led with the letter. He knows that now. He's had years to know that.
The Real Gift Is the Character Study
Here's the thing I realized writing this: you can learn everything about a hero from what he puts under the tree. The billionaire gives control disguised as luxury. The firefighter gives time disguised as small gestures. The ex gives memory — the good kind and the heavy kind.
So if you're shopping for the romance reader in your life this season, take a page from my guys: get the thing she mentioned once, wrap it badly if you must, and write the note by hand. And whatever you do, skip the gym membership.
Drop a comment and tell me — which hero's list sounds most like someone you know? (Or someone you'd like to know. It's the holidays. Dream big.)
