Why I Always Pack a Romance Novel in My Emergency Mental Health Kit

Nothing is more escapist than a cozy, magical story. In this one, Mika Moon is a witch who has always been told to keep her magic secret and stay apart from others. When she’s unexpectedly invited to teach three young witches who need guidance, Mika finds herself at Nowhere House—a quirky, chaotic home full of people who slowly become her found family. Along the way, she also discovers a love she never thought possible, rooted in acceptance and care.

This book earns its place in my emergency mental health kit because it’s about belonging. When the world feels overwhelming, it steadies me to read a story where someone who has always been different finally finds her people. Watching Mika’s walls come down, seeing her embrace joy and connection instead of isolation, gives me hope that difference doesn’t mean loneliness—that safety and love are possible without hiding. Mandanna’s warmth, humor, and gentle magic create a world that feels like an exhale.

This novel is, at its heart, a love letter to romance itself, which makes it exactly the kind of book I want in my emergency mental health kit. The heroine finds herself at a crossroads, forced to reinvent her life and figure out who she wants to be after a career explosion.

For me, stories of reinvention are deeply comforting in moments of anxiety. They remind me that no matter how lost or overwhelmed I feel, change is possible—and even more, that it can be joyful. Reading a heroine who’s messy, brave, and willing to start over quiets that voice in my head that says “you’re stuck.” And because Lavine writes with such affection for the genre, the book feels like being wrapped in a warm blanket: it’s not just a story, it’s a reminder that romance itself is a safe, welcoming space. 

This is the kind of contemporary romance that flips expectations in the most satisfying way. Dani, a whip-smart PhD student who swears she doesn’t have time for love, agrees to a fake relationship with Zaf, a former rugby player turned security guard. Zaf is gruff on the outside but soft at the core—a secret romance reader who believes in happy endings even when Dani doesn’t.

What makes this book essential to my emergency mental health kit is the role reversal: Dani is the one who has to face her fears, grow emotionally, and ultimately do the groveling. Watching a heroine mess up, learn, and fight for love feels deeply grounding when I’m anxious, because it’s a reminder that being imperfect doesn’t disqualify you from happiness. Pair that with Zaf—a hero who openly loves romance novels, therapy, and vulnerability—and you get a story that insists on the value of softness in a world that doesn’t always make space for it. It’s warm, funny, and tender, and it steadies me when I need to be reminded that growth and love can coexist with all my messy human parts.

The Madness of Lord Ian Mackenzie by Jennifer Ashley is one of those books that proves why historical romance belongs in my emergency mental health kit. It follows Ian Mackenzie, a Scottish lord in the late 1800s who the world deems “mad” but who we now understand as autistic. When he meets Beth, a clever widow who sees past his differences, the two get swept up in both a murder mystery and a passionate love story.

Part of what makes this book so comforting in a crisis is the way it reframes difference as worthy of love, not pity. Ian is intense, blunt, and doesn’t always navigate social cues the way others expect—but the romance never treats him as broken. Instead, Beth treasures him as he is. In my own moments of anxiety or overstimulation, reading a love story that insists on the dignity and desirability of a neurodivergent hero feels like both a balm and a mirror. Add in the lush historical setting, the family drama, and the guaranteed happy ending, and it becomes the perfect book to quiet my racing brain: immersive enough to distract me, safe enough to soothe me.