Why Small Town Magic Was All Charm, No Spark

Okay, listen. I really wanted to love Small Town Magic by Laina Turner. I mean, older couple? Second chance romance? A pet shop in a cute little town called Moonshire Bay?? That’s basically my version of a cozy blanket and hot tea on a rainy day. I was sold before I even opened the first page.

But girlies… it just didn’t hit. At all.

You know when you pick up a book and the vibes are perfect, the cover is giving everything it needs to give, and you think, "Yes, this will be my next comfort read!"—but then twenty pages in, you start side-eyeing it like… wait. Is this boring?

Yeah. That was me.

Let’s talk about Haley and Max, because oh my god. There was so much potential here. Haley’s got a crappy ex-husband who’s deep in gambling debt and comes crawling back trying to suck her dry. Max rolls into town, all mysterious and charming and clearly here for a redemption arc or something. I was ready for angst. Longing. Secrets. Tension.

Instead, what I got was:

• Max paying Haley’s ex $15,000 after knowing her for like... five minutes.

• Then casually loaning her $200,000 so she can buy the pet store she works at.

• Without telling her about either decision, like this is normal human behavior.

I’m sorry, WHAT?

Like, sir. This is not a Hallmark movie. This is borderline unhinged. I love a romantic gesture as much as the next emotionally unstable reader, but this was giving “billionaire fairy godmother” energy and I was not buying it.

I’m all for a cinnamon roll love interest, but Max wasn’t a man. He was a walking fix-it button. She had a problem? Solved it. Had a worry? Fixed it. Needed something? Bought it. The man had zero flaws. Which would be fine if the rest of the book brought any tension, but it didn’t. Everything just sort of... happened. Smoothly. Predictably. Quietly.

Where was the mess?! Where was the build-up?! I wanted second-chance romance and got second-hand embarrassment from all the over-the-top sweetness and Hallmark-level corniness.

And don’t even get me started on the inner monologues. I get it—you’re confused. You have feelings. You’re unsure. You’ve said it seventeen times already. We get it. We really get it. It felt like reading someone’s therapy journal, but without the actual breakthroughs.

Even the dialogue felt stiff and unnatural, like they were reading straight off a script. And not a good one.

Now look, I’m not here to trash something for the sake of it. I see the appeal. If you’re in the mood for something easy, cliché in a comforting way, and ridiculously sweet—this might hit. But for me? It was giving store-brand rom-com energy with none of the charm. All fluff, no flavour.

By the time the “big twist” happened, I had already called it several chapters earlier. The grand romantic gesture? Saw it coming. The final conflict? Snooze-fest. I wanted to clutch my chest and swoon. Instead, I was clutching my Kindle and sighing.

So yeah, Small Town Magic had the ingredients. But the recipe? Way too bland for me. Cute setting, sweet idea… just no spice, no depth, and definitely no magic.

Anyway, someone please pass me a book where the man isn’t perfect, the conflict actually makes me feel something, and no one’s casually throwing around six-figure checks like it’s Monopoly money.

Rant over. Your turn — did you love it? Hate it? Am I just in my cranky reader era??