(Charmed Love, #4)

Publication date: April 16th 2026

Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

In the small town of Hazard, the past never stays buried—and love may be the most powerful magic of all.

Whitney Hopewell, Hazard’s newly elected mayor and former librarian, is determined to protect the town she loves. When a smooth Boston developer offers a sleek solution to Hazard’s affordable housing crisis, she’s cautiously hopeful. Derrick Cross is charming, intelligent, and undeniably intriguing. Convincing the local innkeeper to rent him a room feels practical. Helping him with his historical research feels personal.

But Derrick hasn’t come to Hazard to help. He’s returned to settle a centuries-old score. His family’s downfall is tied to the town’s founding, and transforming Hazard’s quaint charm into soulless urban sprawl is his long-planned revenge. Falling for the woman fighting to save it threatens everything.

As Whitney and Derrick grow closer, sensing a deep connection neither can explain, secrets surface. A hidden tunnel, a looming hurricane, and a magical heritage quilt that reveals dreams of true love force them to confront history, heartbreak, and desire.

This enchanting small-town, enemies-to-lovers romance weaves family feuds, magical realism, and heartfelt emotion into a story about forgiveness, fate, and choosing love over vengeance.

Excerpt

Whitney looked up and up at the tall, dark-eyed man before her, and her heartbeat just a tad faster…well, galloped actually, even as she sought to rein in her reaction. What was it about this man?

The man of her dreams.

She shook her head at the thought. Ridiculous! Obviously, she needed more sleep. She drew in a sharp breath and gripped her desk to pull herself together.

“Good afternoon, Mayor Whit.” The quick flash in his dark eyes told her he was mocking her. But to be fair, she had mixed feelings about the moniker she’d been gifted by the town. She gave a small headshake. “Stop.” She motioned at the guest chair. “Have a seat, Mr. Cross.”

His eyes took in the vinyl-upholstered, armless chair. It wasn’t the most inviting, looking as if it was there by design to discourage lengthy visitations.

With a glance at her, he sat, leaned back, and steepled his fingers.

Aware of his penetrating gaze, Whitney looked down and arranged the papers scattered over her desk into neat little piles. “I haven’t finished studying the bids yet. Your visit is premature.” She swallowed, hard.

He raised a brow.

Whitney cleared her throat. “What I mean…”

“I know exactly what you mean.” He directed his attention on her now neat stacks of documentation. “Do you have any questions? Concerns I might…alleviate?”

Whitney caught her breath and stopped herself from leaning forward. He was being persuasive, cajoling, and for an instant, it had worked.

And that just irked her.

Oh, not that he’d employ tried-and-true sales techniques on her, but that such behavior was beneath him. She recognized in him a strength and a clarity of thought that rivalled her own. The man exuded decisiveness. This conciliatory manner didn’t suit, not at all, and worse, it chafed at her.

Fine…he wanted to play? She would take charge of the meeting. “Tell me why you believe H.A.S. Homes is our best option for the housing mandate?”

He raised a brow and launched, running down the superiority of the company over all others. This was better; biased, certainly, but a presentation of definitive ideas on what H.A.S. would bring to the community of Hazard.

And yet, even when he was outlining all the reasons, she should choose his bid over all the others, something tickled the back of her mind until, in a flash, it became clear why it wasn’t quite right. Everything he said only highlighted what Mackenna had called his designs—cookie cutter. “Your designs are unimaginative.” The words popped out at his pause before she could edit her thoughts. With the words flung out there, his pause lengthened, and Whitney held her breath. Would he fill the silence?

Or should she?

Before she could come up with something to say to lessen the impact of her last comment, he spoke. “Is that what you need? Imagination?” She heard the subtle teasing, as if she had missed entirely what she should have been focused on. “How about, instead,” and now his tone grew serious, “how about homes people can afford?” He had a point, and Whitney was willing to concede him that, but she missed the enthusiasm he had exhibited before, and his next words dampened his entire presentation, as recrimination hovered within them. “This town has imagination to spare. What you need is the practical.”

Did she? Because Whitney felt like she lived her life in the practical and what she craved was creativity. She released a slow sigh. She couldn’t help it. She tried to keep the disappointment off her face. Ah, well, balance then, she thought. What she said was, “Is that right?”

Silence stretched between them.

Whitney felt unbalanced suddenly, talking to him alone in her office. What had been businesslike before now felt intimate, just the two of them intent on each other. She found herself hyperaware of his masculinity, seated as he was, a mere three feet from her on the other side of her teakwood desk. She gave a tiny cough. “Well, I need more time, and the council hasn’t met to discuss the bids yet. We will vote.”

“At the next city council meeting.” His gaze on her was unwavering.

“Of course.”

“In a month.”

She nodded.

“So…”

He was watching her, waiting. She shifted in her chair. Suddenly, despite the air conditioning blasting out of the vents, the room was too warm, the heat of summer overwhelming. She had no idea now what she could give him. It wasn’t her place to make promises on how the council would vote. She…needed a moment. “I’m going to walk too the library and let everything you shared with me settle in. I’ll consider your points and study the bids again tonight.”

“Over dinner?”

Her eyes jerked back up to his, even as they both stood. She placed a hand on her desk to maintain her balance. “Dinner?”

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About the Author

Having lived in both California and Texas, award-winning author Aimee O’Brian now resides in the beautiful wine country where she writes dark, sexy, funny romance. With her three children grown and experiencing their own adventures, she and her husband are free to explore the world. When she’s not reading, writing, or planting even more flowers in her garden, she can be found stomping through ancient ruins and getting lost in museums.

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(Charmed Love, #3)

Publication date: October 23rd 2025

Genres: Adult, Holiday, Romance

In the small town of Hazard, sometimes love is the greatest Christmas miracle.

Alina McAllister is starting fresh in the charming town of Hazard, Rhode Island, with a simple plan: take a docent job at the Historical Society and embrace the magic of the season. But when her landlady Hazel suffers a stroke, everything changes. Hazel’s grumpy yet undeniably handsome grandson, Carter Bestwick, swoops into town determined to sell the cottage and move on with his corporate life. He needs Alina to leave—immediately.

With nowhere to go and a snowstorm trapping them together, Alina and Carter are forced into close quarters. What starts as a tense, begrudging arrangement soon sparks undeniable chemistry. As they clear out the attic, they discover Hazel’s magical wedding bands—heirlooms passed down through generations since the Revolutionary War—and find that sometimes, the magic of love is closer than they think.

In this heartwarming, opposites-attract holiday romance, Alina and Carter may just find that the greatest gift of all is an unexpected love.

Excerpt

There it was again—scratching at the lock. Someone was definitely trying to get in.

Alina crept, step by barefoot step, down creaking stairs, holding the banister and her breath. She paused at the landing before rounding the corner. She peered down the remaining steps into dimness. She’d left the porchlight on. Through a little square stained-glass window of a dove in flight, a shadow shifted—a head, the head of someone tall. She tensed. And then she heard it—a man, cursing.

He didn’t sound like he was sneaking. He sounded frustrated.

The doorknob rattled once, twice. Then the door shook, hard.

Bam!

Had he kicked it?

Alina shot down the steps to grab up an umbrella from the metal urn in the tiny entryway. She raised it up high over her head, ready for battle.

The door flew open, smacking the wall. Alina shrieked.

A man—six feet tall (at least) and, even in the dimness, obviously handsome—charged into the cottage, still cursing, this time softer and under his breath.

Ready to defend her haven, umbrella poised to smash into his head, Alina hesitated.

The man halted under the mistletoe when he saw her.

“What on earth…”

The umbrella popped open. Meany, perched on top of the bookcase, hissed and dived superman-style, claws out. The intruder, arms flailing to defend his face from flying cat claws, stepped sideways and slipped on the hand-hooked throw rug. Stumbling backward, he slammed into the wall.

He appeared so disheveled, so discombobulated, and so exasperated that Alina dropped the now-open umbrella patterned with images of cats and dogs falling through raindrops. She put her fist to her mouth to choke back a laugh. He looked ridiculous and not scary at all, especially with snow in his hair melting down his face and onto notably wide shoulders.

He got his wits, steadied himself. With a passing glare at the cat—now seated on the bunched-up throw rug casually washing its privates—the intruder turned his wrath on Alina.

“Who are you? What are you doing in my grandmother’s house?”

Alina’s laughter died. She blinked.

“Hazel’s your grandma?” Alina’s heart lifted at the thought of Hazel’s family finally coming to see her. “But that’s wonderful!”

“Excuse me?” The scowling man shook himself a little and brushed at the snow on his jacket.

Alina hesitated at his expression. “It’s… wonderful… that you’re here. You know she’s in the hospital, right? The nurses said her grandson calls every day. And now you’re here. You’re Carter, right?”

His angry gaze homed in on her face. “Who. Exactly. Are you?”

“Alina.”

They stared at each other.

“Alina who?” He spoke slowly and with emphasis, like she was a child or someone who didn’t understand English.

“Alina McAllister. Oh dear, Hazel didn’t tell you. I’m the new docent for the Hazard Historical Society.”

“And, what, you just thought you could squat here while my grandmother is in the hospital?”

“Squat! Oh, you—that’s awful. I am not squatting. I will have you know that I never squat.”

“Ever,” said Carter, with a disbelieving eyebrow raise.

“Ever,” bristled Alina.

“Is that right? How about you explain then, what exactly you’re doing here in the middle of the night.”

Alina put her hands on her hips. “I live here.”

Carter blanched like she’d struck him. She’d been so pleased to meet Hazel’s grandson, finally, after hearing so many high praises from the nursing staff taking care of Hazel. Carter Bestwick this. Carter Bestwick that. The nurses talked like he was a hero who would save the day and make everything better.

Alina visited her landlady every day to comfort her and keep her spirits up, wondering all the time why the sainted grandson had yet to appear. One of the nurses, Maddy, said she knew Carter from high school, and that he was, oh, so responsible. And now, here he was—oh, so arrogant and scathing and not anything, anything at all, like what Alina had pictured. He was certainly nothing like Hazel. Alina wasn’t even sure how they could be related.

Carter was studying her like she was distasteful, like a bug to be squished. “You can’t be here,” he said.

And that just did it.

Alina planted her bare feet firmly, despite the cold seeping into them from the hardwood floor. She stood straighter—to her full height of five foot four—her spine rigid. “You need to leave,” she said, wishing her voice hadn’t trembled as she said it.

“Leave? Me? You expect me to leave?” His voice rose as his six feet towered over her. “Oh, that is not happening.”

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