July is winding down, and with it, Christmas in July quietly slips away. There’s always a hint of sadness in that, but also something comforting—it means the real holiday season is just a little closer. And for me, there’s nothing quite like Christmas. It’s my favorite time of year, full stop.
After a long day, sitting down to watch Love Under The Mistletoe felt like exactly what I needed—an escape, and maybe a reminder of that holiday magic I love so much. The film follows Grace (Lilley), an interior designer who runs a business with her best friend and brother in the charming town of Ivy Glen. She’s built a full life there, even if it leaves little room for romance. Enter Ryan (Bateman), a successful New York City financial advisor—and Grace’s former high school crush—who returns home with plans to sell his grandmother’s historic St. Nicholas House. When the mayor persuades him to revive the town’s beloved Ribbons & Bows charity fundraiser, Grace steps in to help. As they work together, old memories resurface, and so do feelings neither of them fully left behind. It begs the question: can a holiday reunion turn into something more?
CONNECTION
I found myself connecting to Ryan more than I expected. Like him, I can get caught up in work no matter the season, and taking time to truly step away – especially for the holidays – is easier said than done. But Ivy Glen, and everything it represents, feels like a gentle reminder of what we miss when we don’t slow down. Grace embodies that spirit so beautifully. She’s rooted in her hometown, building a life filled with creativity, tradition, and community. From decorating the town tree to bringing warmth into people’s homes, she leans into everything that makes the season meaningful. And yet, even she doesn’t always pause to take something for herself.
There’s also something quietly endearing about the way her best friend Melanie notices what Grace won’t say out loud—how she lights up around Ryan. Some feelings don’t really fade, they just wait for the right moment. When Grace and Melanie are working to secure the town tree decorating project, the mayor nudges Grace toward Ryan with a bigger idea – reviving the Ribbons & Bows fundraiser at his grandmother’s home. Grace agrees and in true Grace fashion, takes on more than her share to make it happen, determined to ease Ryan’s burden even if it means stretching herself thin.
BESTIES
Melanie sees the situation a little differently and maybe a little more clearly. Where Grace hesitates, Melanie leans in, determined to nudge this possible romance along. She’s convinced there’s something real between Grace and Ryan, and she’s not about to let it slip by unnoticed. Her solution is equal parts playful and strategic: mistletoe, placed exactly where it might matter most. It’s the kind of thoughtful meddling only a best friend can get away with—always a step ahead, and always with her heart in the right place.
GRACE
Grace, though, keeps her guard up. There’s an ease to her smile, but underneath it, relationships feel like unfamiliar territory—something she’s not quite sure how to hold onto. You get the sense that she wants something more, even if she hasn’t fully named it yet. What makes her so compelling is that she isn’t waiting for life to hand her anything. She’s built something meaningful on her own, and she carries a quiet pride in that. At the same time, there’s a growing awareness that she can’t do everything alone—and maybe doesn’t have to.
She finds comfort in the things that last: tradition, community, and the small rituals that make a place feel like home. Ivy Glen isn’t just where she lives—it’s part of who she is. From warm cups of hot chocolate to the charm of long-standing holiday traditions, Grace holds tightly to what matters, not what’s new or convenient. Watching her begin to open up to Ryan is where the story really softens. There’s a subtle shift in her—nothing dramatic, just a sense of ease, like she can finally exhale. She doesn’t lose herself around him; if anything, she seems more like herself than ever.
RYAN
Ryan arrives in Ivy Glen fully intending to tie up loose ends and return to his life in New York. He’s built a career he’s proud of, one that keeps him focused and constantly moving. But coming home has a way of slowing that momentum. The memories he’s kept at a distance start to surface, especially within the walls of his grandmother’s house—still filled with her warmth, her decorations, and the quiet traces of a life that meant something deeply rooted and real.
What begins as a quick visit gradually turns into something more reflective. The town, the traditions, and the people all seem to gently remind him of a kind of magic he’s been missing—not just in Ivy Glen, but in himself. He leans into it more than he expects, stepping into the holiday festivities and, almost without realizing it, finding joy in the simplicity of it all.
A lot of that shift is tied to Grace. Spending time with her feels easy, natural in a way he can’t quite ignore. Even when he tries to keep things light, there’s an undercurrent of something deeper—an awareness that she brings out a different side of him. Through her, he starts to see that a full life doesn’t have to be defined by work alone. There’s space for connection, for care, for something lasting.
ENDEARING
What’s especially endearing is how quietly this realization unfolds. He listens to her, supports her, and steps in when she needs help—sometimes before she even asks. There’s a steadiness to him that complements her drive, and a growing protectiveness that shows in small, meaningful ways. And underneath it all, there’s just enough hint of jealousy to give away what he might not be ready to say out loud.
Still, he has his moments of charm—especially when a little negotiation is involved. After all, if there are sugar cookies on the line, Ryan knows exactly how to make a deal.
What makes their story linger is who they are when they’re together. There’s a natural ease between them, but also the kind of tension that comes from things left unsaid. Like so many relationships, their challenges aren’t rooted in a lack of feeling, but in the uncertainty of how to express it. Honest communication could clear so much, and yet the fear of getting it wrong—or of being hurt—makes that vulnerability difficult to reach for. It’s a quiet, familiar struggle, and one the film handles with a gentle touch.
THIS STORY
That’s part of what gives a story like this its warmth. Beneath the romance, there’s a reminder that home isn’t something reserved for a single season. You don’t have to wait for Christmas to return to the places—or the people—that shaped you. Even when things have changed, there’s value in reconnecting with those earlier versions of yourself and allowing them to still matter.
It also leaves space to appreciate tradition for what it is – something steady, something grounding. Not outdated, but enduring. And maybe that’s the heart of it all, that it’s never really too late to step back into something meaningful, to take a chance on what feels right.
Or simply, to find yourself under the mistletoe and decide not to hold back.
