Sambuca Scarlet

I’ll admit it: I went into *Sambuca Scarlet* expecting fluff—a cute, forgettable rom-com with a dead body tossed in for spice. What I got instead was a masterclass in balancing farce and suspense, where the murder feels like the *least* ridiculous thing happening. Franki Amato is a protagonist who grows on you like a stubborn ivy—annoying at first (her penchant for dramatic monologues had me groaning in the first act), but impossible to dislike by the end. The real star, though, is Mrozek’s narration. She nails Franki’s manic energy, but where she *shines* is in the supporting cast: Bradley’s smarmy groomsmen sound like they stepped out of a Guy Ritchie film, while Franki’s nonna could melt steel with her disapproving sighs. The production is crisp, with no distracting edits, though I’ll dock half a point for a few instances where the pacing drags during Franki’s *overly* introspective moments—we get it, girl, your wedding’s cursed. The plot’s a wild ride, veering from mobster subplots to a bachelor party gone horrifically wrong, but Andrighetti keeps the plates spinning. My only real critique? The mystery’s resolution hinges on a reveal that feels just a *touch* too convenient—like the author realized she’d written herself into a corner and yanked a rabbit out of a hat. Still, the journey’s so entertaining, I didn’t care. If you love audiobooks where the narrator’s performance elevates the material (and where the protagonist’s bad decisions make you yell at your headphones), this is a home run. Just maybe don’t listen while planning your own wedding—Franki’s stress is *contagious*.