Sweet Vengeance

I started Sweet Vengeance expecting another tired opposites-attract trope, but Riley Hart delivered something far more compelling: a romance that feels earned, messy, and achingly real. The unnamed protagonist isn’t just a brooding alpha—he’s a man shaped by trauma, his kindness buried under layers of self-destruction. His dynamic with Ollie is electric not because of their differences, but because of how those differences force them to confront their own flaws. Hart doesn’t shy away from the uglier sides of love here: jealousy, possessiveness, the way desire can twist into something dangerous. It’s refreshing to see a queer romance where the stakes feel high beyond the bedroom, where emotional vulnerability isn’t just a checkbox but a battlefield. The narration is where this audiobook truly shines. Alex Kydd’s Ollie is a dream—his voice is soft where it needs to be, his delivery brimming with the kind of earnestness that makes you root for him immediately. But it’s Liam DiCosimo who steals the show. His gravelly tone and effortless gruffness give the fighter a presence that’s impossible to ignore, whether he’s growling a threat or whispering something tender. That said, the story’s third act stumbles slightly with a rushed resolution that feels more obligatory than organic, and the secondary cast occasionally lacks depth. Still, the chemistry between the leads and the immersive world-building more than make up for it. By the final chapter, I was sold—this isn’t just a love story; it’s a testament to how hard love can be, and how worth it is.