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She doesn't hoard money. She hoards control. And it's killing her neighborhood.
Karen Morrison is Pinewood Lane's HOA president, and she takes Christmas seriously. Lights must be spaced at precise two-inch intervals. Wreaths cannot exceed 18 inches in diameter. Seasonal decorations come down within 14 days-no exceptions, no mercy.
Not for elderly Marie Peterson, who skipped blood pressure medication to pay Karen's fines.
Not for the Martinez family, whose seven-year-old son battles cancer while his parents battle citations.
Not for Mrs. Chen, who has panic attacks at the sight of Karen's white Lexus.
Not even for Karen's own daughter, who's chosen peace over her mother's presence.
But on Christmas Eve, Karen receives visitors: her best friend Jenny, dead forty-two years. Marie Peterson, still wrapped in chains of measuring tapes and violation notices. And Karen's grandmother, who taught her that "burned cookies taste like love when the right people make them."
Three ghosts. One night. And a choice between the measuring tape and joy.
Krismas Karen: The HOA Carol is a razor-sharp retelling of Dickens' classic that trades Victorian London for suburban America, and asks: What happens when the tyrant isn't hoarding wealth, but weaponizing bylaws? When the real ghost of Christmas Yet to Come is dying alone in a perfectly decorated house?
Perfect for readers who love:
A Christmas Carol is public domain. The Martinez family, their skeleton Jack, and Karen's measuring tape are mine. Burned cookies really do taste like love when the right people make them.
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