It’s summer in the Northern Hemisphere! Yes, it’s all sun, sand, and fun … and something is definitely scratching behind the wall. Forget everything you think you know about horror, friends. Cozy horror isn’t about slashing through the woods or hiding from masked maniacs — it’s the kind of creepy that tiptoes in during daylight. It’s teacups rattling on their saucers, a shadow passing just outside the window, a ghost politely asking if you’d like more sugar.
Now, are all of these books strictly cozy horror? Not quite. But they’re definitely cozy-adjacent. Think of them as horror’s softer, weirder siblings — strange little stories that know how to simmer instead of scream. They’re unsettling in a way that lingers, like the scent of lilacs with something sour underneath. You’ll laugh, you’ll shiver, and you’ll probably question that noise in the hallway.
These seven cozy-ish horror novels are sharp, emotionally layered, and totally unique, just like your favorite thrifted sweater. The vibes are strong, the frights are subtle (mostly), and the ghosts have excellent manners.
Another Fine Mess by Lindy Ryan
This book is all charm and chaos. Ghosts, trauma, and found family all converge in a story that feels like walking into a haunted antique shop run by witches who swear a lot. With vivid characters and just the right amount of spectral sass, Another Fine Mess is your new springtime obsession. It’s warm, weird, and wrapped in a haunted hug of healing. The spooky atmosphere blends with moments of humor, making it feel like an unsettling but strangely comfortable place to be.
What Moves the Dead by T. Kingfisher
A retelling of Poe’s The Fall of the House of Usher, but with mushrooms, unsettling hares, and one very sarcastic ex-soldier. It’s gorgeously weird, with gothic decay oozing through every page. But the dry humor and bizarre beauty make it feel like horror with a vintage twist. If fungi-core was a genre, this would be its crowned queen. Kingfisher’s writing invites you into a world where the grotesque becomes strangely beautiful, and the tension is laced with dark humor.
My Best Friend’s Exorcism by Grady Hendrix
Think The Babysitter’s Club meets The Exorcist. It’s all ‘80s nostalgia, high school drama, and one unforgettable demonic possession. This one balances friendship, fear, and neon-colored angst with a flair that makes it oddly comforting if you’re the kind of person who finds comfort in exorcisms. Beneath the horror, it’s a love letter to messy girlhood and ride-or-die loyalty. It’s both unsettling and strangely heartwarming, making you remember that true friendship always fights back against the darkness.
The Sun Down Motel by Simone St. James
Split between past and present timelines, this mystery-horror hybrid oozes with atmosphere. A haunted roadside motel, missing girls, and a whole lot of small-town secrets. Creepy, yes, but with a strong emotional core and fierce female leads, it’s horror that hugs back. It reads like Nancy Drew wandered into a Stephen King town and refused to flinch. The characters’ unwavering determination to uncover the truth in a place steeped in malevolent history will keep you hooked until the final page.
Just Like Home by Sarah Gailey
Home is where the horror is. Especially when your dad might have been a serial killer. Gailey weaves a slow, skin-crawling story of inheritance, identity, and the kind of domestic horror that sinks its claws into your psyche. It’s beautifully strange and deeply personal — a gothic tale wrapped in bloodstained bedsheets and memory. The story unfolds at a pace that lets you feel the horror settling into your bones, forcing you to ask: what is truly lurking within the walls of home?
Bunny by Mona Awad
This book is unhinged in the most delightful way. Set at an elite MFA program, it’s about cult-like friendships, identity crises, and possibly… bunnies that explode? It’s part horror, part satire, and entirely deranged. Reading it feels like drinking too much chamomile tea and realizing it’s laced with glitter and existential dread. Awad’s writing is a chaotic symphony, making you laugh nervously and then recoil at the odd, unpredictable turns it takes.
Going Bovine by Libba Bray
Is it horror? Is it a fever dream? Does it matter? A madcap road trip through a dying teenage boy’s delusions (or are they?), this book is absurd, hilarious, and deeply emotional. With Norse gods, talking lawn gnomes, and moments of existential dread, it’s weird in a way that feels like horror’s goofier, kinder cousin. It’s heartbreak in a Hawaiian shirt, and somehow, it works. Through all its eccentricities, it’s ultimately a poignant exploration of life, death, and the absurdity of it all.
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