One reason why I think Mila Finelli's mafia books do work for me better than most other (Italian--I did really love Kresley's series) mafia romance novels I've read is that the characters do feel DISTINCT and so do the relationship dynamics.
In a lot of these somewhat darker, more erotic reads, you do get the sense that any of the characters could be switched out for one another. The heroes are always the same types of alphas, the heroines are always the same types of a) virgins or b) defiant rebels who may also still be virgins, and what really sets the books apart are a few bananas scenes here and there, and some distinct sex scenes.
And while I definitely think there are distinct sexual dynamics and kinks at play with each couple (Fausto/Frankie are obviously daddy kink-central, Enzo and Gia are.... generalized freaks with some heavier BDSM by way of CNC vibes, Giulio and Alessio also have some D/s vibes but with a more competitive edge and are very into each other's violence, and Giacomo/Emma are obviously a breeding kink/softer touch vibe) they're also just super different people.
I guess the closest couples would be Fausto and Frankie and Enzo and Gia, but even then... Fausto is a dick, but he's more rational, more doting (see: daddy), and though Frankie is absolutely defiant and strong, I actually think that though she and Fausto have more of a traditional partnership in terms of gender than Enzo and Gia (which also could be because Frankie wants a billion kids and yes she has her MBA but she's very much a wife and mom first, whereas Gia is more about her career, which keeps them from being too similar). Enzo and Gia are more into the defined D/s shit sexually, but you get the sense that she has more control in the relationship and that, at the end of the day, he is very much... her bitch. Enzo and Gia have a very similar age gap to Fausto and Frankie, but Fausto and Frankie have more of a care-focused DD/lg relationship, whereas Enzo and Gia thrive on the friction of her giving as good as she gets.
And Alessio and Giulio, aside from the obvious of being the only queer relationship in the series, are very much coded as D/s as well... But not as inflexibly as the previous two couples. Aside from them switching it up in the bedroom a little, there's also a lot of space for Alessio to take care of Giulio. Like, Giulio kinda doesn't know shit about what he's doing lol, whereas Alessio is hypercompetent (which also makes sense, as Fausto for sure spoiled Giulio and Alessio has been in essentially a different class his entire life). So while Giulio is more sexually dominant, Alessio is really the stronger, steadier, and more threatening partner otherwise. And again, they both really get off on watching each other do what they do best, which is: crime.
I do think Giacomo and Emma have the softest relationship in the series--but it's not so much because she's this kind of babe in the woods virgin (and I will say, I did love that Frankie and Gia were NOT lol) but because Giacomo is just a much more tender guy. Like, yes, Fausto and Enzo both also had loved ones, but I think that because they'd both been running their shit longer than Giacomo had before he met Emma, they had these very set roles. Fausto and Enzo come off as more brutal, and honestly more crazy (like, Enzo is THE CRAZIEST for sure, but Fausto is a fucking nutball). Giacomo seems like a dude who's good at killing people and doing mafia stuff, but it's really like? His day job. It's not his life and it doesn't feel like his culture, even, which makes sense because he was on the fringes of the types of levels Fausto and Enzo have always been in, because his father and brother kept him separate from it. Even Giulio is more connected to that space than Giacomo, because he was groomed to take over for years.
I think it would be very easy to rely on these great sex scenes and wacky plots she writes, but the thing that does make it clear that Mila has the chops (.... and it also makes it clear that she's very experienced, lol, and someone who has had to write series with very individualized characters for professional editors in the past........) is that the characters are very DIFFERENT. Like, Frankie and Gia may both have their partners' balls in their pockets, but you see Frankie do a wheedling kind of little girl pouting thing to get her way with Fausto because she knows he looooves it, whereas Gia is like LISTEN UP ASSHOLE with Enzo (and it makes the relationship the best because nobody else can do that with him, Enzo and Gia are the greatest, thanks for coming to my Ted Talk). Giacomo is willing to let Emma go in a way that Fausto, Enzo, and honestly I would say Giulio too after working out some things, really aren't okay with. He's probably the best guy out of the series, on a moral level, while also being a scary murder man.
(Except for maybe Alessio? Because Alessio is also a scary murder man, but he literally just does it for the cash or to protect Giulio. It's PURE BUSINESS.)
I find the distinctiveness of the characters really cool, especially when I reread the books, and that is probably why I've had a hard time finding a series that really clicks for me in the same way within the sort of Italian mafia genre.
(That, and: so much of the other books center on Italian-American mafia stuff and that shit DOES NOT HAVE THE SAUCE the way Mila's Italy-set books do. Like, be real here, the Italian-American mafia has not been raking in this kind of cash for DECADES.)
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What’s the Hulk’s favorite Halloween song?
A: The Monster (S)Mash
Bruce hates parties.
He hated interdepartmental socializing when he worked at Culver — where everybody knew everyone else would rather be holed up in their offices or labs but were forced to mingle and laugh awkwardly anyways.
He hated birthday parties growing up — especially those for himself; all that focus and attention on him, everyone pretending like he was their best friend, like his mom hadn’t guilted their moms to dragging them all to sing to him.
He hated frat parties in college — the ones Betty’d hauled him to, ‘for the experience, Bruce,’ though being with her did make them at least mildly manageable, and they never stayed longer than the first incidence of broken furniture or body fluids showing up where they really didn’t belong.
And he hates, now, whatever the hell this is that Tony’s forcing him to make an appearance at with the rest of the Avengers.
He clutches his glass a little tighter, wondering, not for the first time this evening, if his genes will spontaneously mutate again and grant him the ability to fade into the wallpaper. That would be nice.
“Ayyyyyyyyy, Brucie, they’re playing your song!” Clint sidles up alongside him, feet doing some weird sort of stutter step that Bruce doubts is a dance.
Bruce has many regrets. His haircut throughout middle school, for one. Substituting gamma for vita radiation, for two. Showing up tonight, for three. But currently, his greatest regret is joining a team where he has to try and make small talk with someone as obscenely loud and purple as Clint Francis Barton. “My what?” he asks.
“Your song!” Clint shouts, gesturing upwards with his drink. Hmm. Bruce wonders if he was planning on drinking that or if he’d intended to take a mid-evening alcohol bath. “Y’know, the, the — monster — the —” he breaks off, humming under his breath until he catches up to the lyrics. “ — Drac’s voice did ring —,” he nudges Bruce’s shoulder, “— you know this, come on —”
Bruce squints as Clint drops his cup so that he can mime opening a coffin lid and shaking his fist in sync with the lyrics before he yells in an accent so stereotypically vampiric that Bruce is mildly offended on behalf of all creatures of the night: “Whatever happened to my Transylvania Twist??”
The series of movements that follow make Bruce wonder if Clint’s managed to electrocute himself somehow or if perhaps that witch from last week fired off a lucky spell that’s belatedly coming into play. Clint’s singing along, Bruce thinks, but he has a hard time focusing on the words over all the drunken jerking and flailing that’s occupying his vision.
As the music finally fades into the next song, Clint collapses against the wall next to him, sighing heavily. “So — that’s your favorite song, right? The Monster Mash? ‘Cause, y’know — Hulk, and the smashing?”
“Yeah, no, I’m not doing this.” Bruce shoves his drink into Clint’s hand, who seems pleased by this development, and turns to leave.
He hates parties.
—
other bad jokes and their ficlets here!
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