This is Why We Don't Date Serial Killers (A Killer Romcom, #1) Book Review and Summary

Author: L.M. Gilmore
Page Count: Unknown
Publication Date: Expected publication 2026 APL

The synopsis of This Is Why We Don’t Date Serial Killers arrives like a particularly well-timed invitation to a masquerade ball where the only rule is that the mask must be bloodstained. It’s the kind of premise that makes you wonder if the author has ever read The Girl on the Train and decided, Why not lean in?—because the real genius of this book, if it lives up to its own audacity, will be in how it treats the serial killer not as a villain but as a character, a man so thoroughly constructed that his monstrosity becomes a kind of tragicomic charm. And Roxie? She’s the kind of woman who would fall for a man who collects knives like others collect vintage whiskey—because, as the synopsis suggests, she’s not looking for a hero. She’s looking for a story.

The tension here is delicious, the kind that makes you suspect the author has a secret fondness for True Detective’s first season, where the line between obsession and devotion blurs so thoroughly that it becomes impossible to tell which is the poison and which is the cure. But where True Detective’s killer is a philosophical abyss, This Is Why We Don’t Date Serial Killers seems to be promising something far more romantic—a love story where the only thing standing between the couple is a series of increasingly elaborate kidnappings, each one a step closer to what might pass for intimacy in this twisted world. The synopsis plays with the idea that Roxie’s attraction to Max isn’t just about the thrill of the chase—it’s about the idea of him, the way he embodies everything she’s ever been told to fear. And yet, the way the synopsis frames it, it’s less about psychological depth and more about chemistry—the kind of chemistry that would make Knives Out’s Daniel Craig look like a choirboy by comparison.

But here’s the thing: the synopsis doesn’t show us this chemistry. It doesn’t give us the moment where Roxie realizes that Max’s coldness isn’t just a defense mechanism—it’s a performance, one she’s been waiting her whole life to be invited into. It doesn’t tell us whether her love is a kind of madness or if Max’s is just a different kind of madness, equally compelling. Instead, it offers us a series of set pieces: the escape, the kidnapping, the discovery that Roxie might actually enjoy being hunted. And that’s where the real risk lies—not in the premise, which is as bold as it is predictable, but in the execution. Because if this book doesn’t find a way to make Max’s monstrosity feel earned—not just as a plot device but as a psychological truth—then it risks becoming the literary equivalent of a Saw movie where the killer’s backstory is just a way to sell merch.

Yet—and this is the pivot—maybe that’s the point. Maybe the book isn’t trying to be deep. Maybe it’s trying to be funny. The synopsis leans into the absurdity of the situation with a wink, as if to say, Yes, this is ridiculous, and we’re all in on it. In that case, it’s worth asking whether This Is Why We Don’t Date Serial Killers will have the wit of Gone Girl’s psychological games or the dark humor of You’s early scenes, where the killer’s charm is so thick you can almost taste it. The synopsis doesn’t give us enough to say, but it does give us enough to imagine—and imagination, after all, is the first step toward a good dark romcom.

The real question, then, is whether the book will commit to the tone. Will it be a Bridgerton for serial killers, where the violence is off-screen and the romance is on full display? Or will it be something more like The Night Manager, where the killer’s charm is a razor’s edge between seduction and slaughter? The synopsis doesn’t tell us, but it does promise one thing: a story where the only thing standing between love and murder is a well-timed punchline. And if that’s the case, then This Is Why We Don’t Date Serial Killers might just be the most audacious love story of the year—if it can resist the temptation to turn Max into a villain and Roxie into a heroine, and instead treat them both as something far more interesting: flaws.

The caterer just texted to say they’re backing out of the weekend party. I suppose that’s fitting—because if there’s one thing this book seems to promise, it’s that love, like a good meal, is best enjoyed when it’s served with a side of danger. And if the synopsis is any indication, the only thing standing between us and a very strange kind of happily ever after is a phone number and a killer’s sense of humor.

#DarkRomance #TwistedLove #BookTok #SerialKillerChic #RomComTrouble