The Sweetest Oblivion (Made)
She's a romantic at heart, living in the most unromantic of worlds . . .Nicknamed Sweet Abelli for her docile nature, Elena smiles on cue and has a charming response for everything. She's the favored daughter, the perfect mafia principessa . . . or was.Now, all she can see in the mirror's reflection is blood staining her hands like crimson paint.They say first impressions are everything . . .In the murky waters of New York's underworld, Elena's sister is arranged to marry Nicolas Russo. A Made Man, a boss, a cheat-even measured against mafia standards. His reputation stretches far and wide and is darker than his black suits and ties. After his and Elena's first encounter ends with an accidental glare on her part, she realizes he's just as rude as he is handsome.She doesn't like the man or anything he stands for, though that doesn't stop her heart from pattering like rain against glass when he's near, nor the shiver that ghosts down her spine at the sound of his voice.And he's always near. Telling her what to do. Making her feel hotter than any future brother-in-law should. Elena may be the Sweet Abelli on the outside, but she's beginning to learn she has a taste for the darkness, for rough hands, cigarettes, and whiskey-colored eyes. Having already escaped one scandal, however, she can hardly afford to be swept up in another.Besides, even if he were hers, everyone knows you don't fall in love with a Made Man . . . right?This is a standalone forbidden romance.
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Community Reviews
The Sweetest Oblivion is one of those romances that pulls you in with its atmosphere before the plot even has a chance to unfold. Danielle Lori blends danger, desire, and dysfunction into a story that feels equal parts intoxicating and unsettling — and that’s exactly why it works. This isn’t a soft, gentle love story; it’s sharp, morally messy, and emotionally charged in a way that keeps you on edge.
Elena is a fascinating narrator because she’s both self‑aware and deeply trapped in the expectations of her world. Her internal conflict is one of the strongest parts of the book. There were moments where her choices frustrated me, but they also made sense for someone raised in a family where image is everything and freedom is a luxury. Her quiet rebellion feels real, not performative.
Nico… is complicated. He’s magnetic, controlling, and morally gray in a way that will either hook you or make you want to throw the book. Sometimes both. Their chemistry is undeniable — the kind that simmers under every interaction — but it’s also rooted in power imbalance, which the book doesn’t always interrogate as deeply as it could. That tension is part of the appeal, but it’s also where the story risks leaning too heavily on trope over nuance.
The pacing is fast, almost too fast in places, with certain emotional beats hitting hard while others feel rushed. The mafia backdrop adds stakes, but some plot threads feel more like set dressing than fully developed arcs. Still, the atmosphere is rich, and the dialogue carries that addictive push‑pull energy that keeps you turning pages.
What surprised me most was how emotionally invested I became despite the flaws. The book isn’t perfect — some scenes feel melodramatic, some character motivations thin — but the emotional intensity is undeniable. It’s the kind of romance that leaves you a little breathless, a little conflicted, and very ready for the next book.
Elena is a fascinating narrator because she’s both self‑aware and deeply trapped in the expectations of her world. Her internal conflict is one of the strongest parts of the book. There were moments where her choices frustrated me, but they also made sense for someone raised in a family where image is everything and freedom is a luxury. Her quiet rebellion feels real, not performative.
Nico… is complicated. He’s magnetic, controlling, and morally gray in a way that will either hook you or make you want to throw the book. Sometimes both. Their chemistry is undeniable — the kind that simmers under every interaction — but it’s also rooted in power imbalance, which the book doesn’t always interrogate as deeply as it could. That tension is part of the appeal, but it’s also where the story risks leaning too heavily on trope over nuance.
The pacing is fast, almost too fast in places, with certain emotional beats hitting hard while others feel rushed. The mafia backdrop adds stakes, but some plot threads feel more like set dressing than fully developed arcs. Still, the atmosphere is rich, and the dialogue carries that addictive push‑pull energy that keeps you turning pages.
What surprised me most was how emotionally invested I became despite the flaws. The book isn’t perfect — some scenes feel melodramatic, some character motivations thin — but the emotional intensity is undeniable. It’s the kind of romance that leaves you a little breathless, a little conflicted, and very ready for the next book.
i dont usually read mafia romance, i find them cringe as hell most of the time
but this had crack in it
so fun and so sexually frustrating, i loved it
but this had crack in it
so fun and so sexually frustrating, i loved it
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