Small Town Magic by Laina Turner: A Second Chance Romance That Gave Me A Cavity

You know when you pick up a book and think, This is it. This is going to be my new obsession? That was me with Small Town Magic by Laina Turner. I saw "older couple," "second chance romance," "small town," and thought, Yes, yes, a thousand times yes! Because honestly, who doesn’t love a small-town romance? An older couple who deserve love? That’s my bread and butter! And to top it all off, the small town in question is called Moonshire Bay—How stinking CUTE is that?! I was already packing my fictional bags to move there. But, dear reader, what I thought would be an enchanting love story turned into an exercise in patience, disappointment, and the deep realization that not all books deserve their aesthetic covers.

The story follows Haley and Max—two strangers who meet when Max arrives in the small town. The setup was there. The nostalgia, the yearning, the emotional baggage—all ingredients for a romance that could have made me weep into my tea. But then? The nonsense began.

Haley’s ex-husband, a gambler drowning in SO. MUCH. DEBT., comes crawling back, trying to milk her for cash. She, being the strong, independent woman we love, tells him NO. But then Max—this man who has known her for what, five minutes?—pulls out his chequebook and PAYS HER EX-HUSBAND 15K TO LEAVE HER ALONE, and the worst part- he didn't tell her. Obsessive? Weird? Completely unrealistic? Check, check, and check!

I mean, what kind of man casually hands out life-changing sums of money like he’s tipping the barista for a good latte? Oh, but Max wasn’t done. Not content with this absurd grand gesture, he then LOANS HER $200K so she can buy the pet store she works at. That’s right. A quarter of a million dollars. To a woman he barely knows. Where is this man in real life? Because I have bills.

Look, I love a bit of cheesiness. I willingly read romance, after all. But Small Town Magic didn’t just flirt with cheese; it married it, had a full-blown family with it, and built a white-picket-fence life around it. The dialogue was so forced and unnatural that I could almost hear the characters reading their lines off cue cards. Every emotional moment was punctuated by cliches that have been done a thousand times before—and better.

The inner monologues? Don’t even get me started. I appreciate introspection, but this book felt like reading the diary of a teenager stuck in a middle-aged body, filled with redundant thoughts that dragged on for paragraphs at a time. I wanted to shake the characters and scream, I GET IT. YOU HAVE UNRESOLVED FEELINGS. PLEASE STOP EXPLAINING THEM TO ME LIKE I’M A TODDLER.

I adore a good wholesome romance. I love a heartfelt, saccharine moment that makes me clutch my chest and sigh dramatically. I am a Hallmark movie enthusiast. But even I have my limits, and Small Town Magic pushed me right past them. Every single interaction between Haley and Max felt like it had been dipped in honey, rolled in powdered sugar, and then coated in a layer of candy floss. It was just too much. Max wasn’t just a good guy—he was a saint, a miracle worker, a billionaire fairy godmother in disguise. The man did not have a single flaw. Every problem Haley had, he fixed with an obscene amount of money and an equally obscene amount of devotion. There was no conflict, no natural progression of their relationship—just constant, over-the-top, fairytale sweetness that felt manufactured rather than genuine. I’m all for a dreamy romance, but this was so sugary it made my teeth hurt. It’s like when you order a hot chocolate, and the barista adds extra whipped cream, chocolate syrup, marshmallows, sprinkles, and a candy cane on top. Sure, it looks great, but by the time you take a few sips, you’re just drowning in the sugar overload. That was this book.

I love a good trope. I do. Give me a well-worn storyline, and if it’s executed well, I’ll still swoon like I’ve never read it before. But Small Town Magic? It took "predictable" to a whole new level. I was mentally filling in the blanks before the characters even got there.

• The inevitable misunderstanding? Saw it coming from a mile away.

• The "shocking" revelation? Called it the second the character was introduced.

• The grand gesture at the end? It was so painfully obvious that I actually rolled my eyes when it happened.

This book had the potential to be a comforting, heart-warming second-chance romance, but instead, it felt like reading the script for the most formulaic rom-com imaginable, minus the charm or chemistry that makes those movies enjoyable.

I wanted to love this book. I should have loved this book. The bones of a great romance were there, but the execution? Oof. If you enjoy second-chance romances that are aggressively predictable and borderline parody-level cheesy, then sure, give Small Town Magic a go. But if you, like me, crave some depth, some natural dialogue, and characters that don’t sound like they were generated by an AI trained on bad romance scripts…maybe look elsewhere.