I Wish You Were Mine

I went into *I Wish You Were Mine* expecting a light, fluffy romance—what I got was a story that punched me in the feels and then tickled my ribs. Charlotte North’s narration as Hazel is a masterclass in dry wit, her delivery sharp enough to cut through the Georgia humidity she describes. She nails the emotional beats, especially during Hazel’s quieter moments of vulnerability, where the humor drops just enough to let the rawness shine through. Austin Stone, meanwhile, brings a gruff, exhausted charm to Gage that makes his single-dad struggles feel achingly real—right down to the way he fumbles through parenting like a man who’s never folded a laundry basket without sending socks flying. Their chemistry is electric, and Stone’s ability to toggle between exhausted dad mode and smoldering attraction is downright impressive. The production is crisp, with no distracting pops or plosives, though I did wish the sound design leaned a little harder into Harbour Village’s coastal ambiance—imagine the crash of waves under their first kiss, not just silence. Critiques? The pacing drags ever so slightly in the middle act, where the emotional fallout of Hazel’s past gets a little too introspective for my taste—I wanted more Gage-and-Hazel shenanigans, less therapy session. And while I adored the steamy scenes, a few felt perfunctory, like the authors checked a box instead of letting the tension breathe. That said, these are minor quibbles in an otherwise stellar listen. By the time Hazel delivers her final, fiery monologue—North’s voice trembling with a mix of defiance and heartbreak—you’ll be clutching your phone to preorder Peterson’s entire backlist. This isn’t just a romance; it’s a masterclass in making you laugh, ache, and swoon in under ten hours.