ARC Review: Dirty Games by Samanthe Beck (Tropical Temptation)

Title: Dirty Games

          (Tropical Temptation)

Author: Samanthe Beck

Release Date: November 13, 2017 (ARC)

Publisher: Entangled Publishing - Brazen

Category: Contemporary Romance

Type: Digital

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Samanthe Beck Website

Blurb:

A five figure fee. A private villa at an exclusive tropical paradise. Absolute compliance. Top tier celebrity trainer Luke McLean demands all of the above, plus strict adherence to his zero bullshit policy. Especially when faced with six short weeks to whip a spoiled starlet into leading lady shape.

Quinn Sheridan suddenly has half the time she anticipated to turn herself into an action hero for the role of her career. Luckily, her agent calls in a secret weapon, but the demanding, drop dead gorgeous hardass fails to understand SHE’S the client. She has no problem taking direction, but Luke’s definition of cooperation feels more like complete and utter submission. And she’s tempted to give it to him...

Each book in the Tropical Temptation series is a STANDALONE story that can be enjoyed out of order.
* Bonding Games
* Secret Games
* Bachelor Games
* Dirty Games

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age.

If you are under the age of 18, please exit this site.

Favorite Line(s):

He turned and took a step away before tossing over his shoulder, “And for the record, both my IQ and my dick are well above average.”  ~  Luke

Dialogue Highlight:

Leaning a forearm on the bar, he eased closer. “Now that I see you up close, I realize you’re much prettier than what’s-her-face.”

“Quinn Sheridan?” She couldn’t quite hide the hint of irritation in her voice at the backhanded compliment.

“I guess that’s her name. She’s got, well, you know…”He smiled vaguely, and deliberately refrained from elaborating. Knowing actors—and he did—she wouldn’t be able to resist finding out what imperfection he perceived.

Her brows drew together for one fleeting moment, before she arranged her features into a show of mild curiosity. “What?”

“The plastic look. Inexpressive. Like she’s had too much Botox. I guess that’s what happens when a thirty-something actress plays the part of a high school student. She’s got to be getting desperate to move on. She’s not going to be able to pull it off much longer.”

Her mouth dropped open. Inexpressive? Uh-uh. She might have a certain look she presented to the world, but her real emotions were right there beneath the surface, ready to break through. Finally, she took a long gulp of her drink before swallowing and clearing her throat.

“I’m sure she’s not thirty-something. She looks very natural to me. I don’t have a hard time buying her in the role.”

He shrugged. “I guess you suspend your sense of disbelief more easily. Or, I don’t know, maybe it’s not her looks that throw me. Maybe it’s her performance.”

Color flooded her cheeks. She swiveled so that she faced him, and folded her arms over her chest.

“What’s wrong with her performance?”

“She comes across kind of wooden, don’t you think?”

Her mouth dropped open again. She actually sputtered. “Wooden? Hell, no. She’s won awards for her performance. She’s been nominated for an Emmy.”

He shrugged again. He’d read her bio. He knew about her Emmy noms. “Has she?”

“Twice!” Her palm slapped the bar for emphasis.

“Didn’t win, though, huh?” Before she could respond, he continued, “If she’s so talented, why hasn’t she broken out? Could be I missed it, but I haven’t seen her in anything except that show.” He caught the bartender’s eye. “I’ll have a glass of what she’s having, and—”He glanced at her. “Would you like another?”

“Yes. Thank you,” she said, and under her breath added, “Bring the bottle.” When the bartender moved away, she drew herself up to full height. Five feet, four inches of slightly inebriated, very pissed off actress ready to defend herself. “Maybe she was waiting for the right role? I heard she’s going to be in the movie version of Dirty Games, and”—her white-knuckled grip on the bar offered him a small sign of her nervousness about that situation—“I think she’s going to make an amazing Lena Xavier.”

Now that he’d gotten her all primed to do battle, it was time to lull her into thinking she’d won. He held up his hands. “Hey, listen, I don’t mean to offend you. You’re obviously a fan.”

Her grip on the bar relaxed a fraction. “And you’re obviously not.”

“My only point is, you’re much prettier. You should be an actress. Or a model.”

The compliment distracted her, and earned him a surprisingly sincere smile, but then she tossed her hair over her shoulders, and sighed. “I’m too short to model, and, at the moment”—she grimaced and finished her drink—“I’m also out of shape.” A busboy interrupted the unguarded moment to clear her empty glass.

“There’s nothing wrong with your shape.” He said it because it was the kind of response a man hitting on a woman should offer, but also because it was a fact. Anywhere except Hollywood, she’d be considered perfect, which provided yet another example of what a screwed up place Hollywood was and why he’d opted out.

The sincere smile made an encore appearance. “That’s nice of you to say, but my mirror says different. I’m a dancer, but I got a little derailed a couple months ago and had to take a break. Now, I need to get back to work. So”—she fiddled with the stem of her glass—“I’m banished to Paradise for some austerity measures.”

“Lucky me.” He glanced pointedly at the tequila-sunset sky blazing above the horizon, and added, “And lucky you. There are worse places to be banished.”

“Maybe, but tonight is probably my only chance to enjoy it.” Her gaze landed meaningfully on him, full of invitation, but her fingers moved from the wineglass to her cocktail napkin, and picked at a corner. “Starting tomorrow, I’m stuck spending the next six weeks with some overpriced personal trainer my agent insisted on.”

Oh, yeah. They’d be adjusting her attitude. “A good trainer delivers results quickly and safely. A lot of people would say that’s worth every penny.”

She waved a hand as if swatting a fly. “I don’t need some arrogant fitness nazi barking at me to drop and give him twenty. I’ll bet this guy builds freakishly large muscles to compensate for the fact that he has a single-digit IQ, and the world’s smallest dick.”

The bartender chose that moment to deliver their drinks. Luke made the ‘check please’ sign as his unsuspecting client leaned in so her breasts nearly touched his chest. The heat of her body penetrated his shirt. “Thank you for the drink. Enough about me. What brings you to Paradise Bay?” He leaned in, too, bringing their faces close. “Work.”

“What kind of work?” Her attention drifted to his mouth, then back up to look him in the eye. The blue of her irises deepened to violet around the pupils, making them seem even wider. Genetics had smiled on Quinn Sheridan, right down to the fine details. She scraped her teeth over her lower lip. His teeth itched to do the same. Itched to rough up that plush velvety flesh before he soothed it with his tongue.

The cocktail of frustration and desire she stirred in him left a bittersweet taste in his mouth. Seems they were both due for a reality check. He took her chin, absently appreciating how the faint dimple accommodated his thumb, and dropped the drawl as he answered, “I’m surprised you can’t guess by my arrogance and freakishly large muscles.”

Confusion clouded her eyes for a split second before realization seeped in. She tried to pull away, but he held onto her chin and kept her close. Her tongue darted out again, quickly this time, like a criminal making a prison break—and then she offered him an imperious smile. “Well played, Mr. McLean, but I knew it was you the whole time.”

“Sorry, Miss Sheridan, but you’re not that good an actress.”

Her eyes chilled to glaciers. “Is this your version of an audition? One I failed? Am I in trouble now?”

“You are trouble.” He released her chin. “And we’re not here to play games. I’ll let tonight slide, since we’re not on the clock yet, but lie to me again and our deal is off.” With that warning hanging in the air, he clinked his glass to hers, took a sip, and placed it on the bar. “We start tomorrow morning at nine sharp in the gym at your villa. Don’t keep me waiting.”

Excerpt:

“Wait. Luke…wait.”

He continued into the gym, picked up his tablet and water, and turned to face her.

She held up her hands, and offered him a disarming smile. “Look, I’m not going to make excuses—the kitchen didn’t drop off my lunch.”

Impeccable timing. Great delivery. He didn’t return her smile. “Maybe you’re not taking this seriously, but I am. I have a business to run, and I put a vacation on hold for this.” His anger wasn’t entirely manufactured, because everything he said was true, but he’d expected the cheating. Most clients deviated from the plan at some point—often early in the process when the food cravings hit hardest and the results of challenging workouts and a better diet weren’t yet visible. “You’re not willing to do what it takes to succeed.”

“I am. I swear.” She rushed to him, and raised her hands to his chest, as if her paltry hundred and twenty-five pounds could prevent him from moving. “I just lost track of myself for a moment.”

“I can’t monitor you 24/ 7, Quinn. Nobody can, other than you, and if you’re not up to the job, then we’re both wasting our time. This won’t work if I can’t trust you.”

“You can trust me. Please, Luke.” She looked up at him with a rare show of genuine panic in her eyes. “Give me another chance. I promise I’m not wasting your time. Let me prove it.”

This was exactly what he wanted from any client at this stage—the wavering stage—a renewed commitment to fight for the goal, and the determination to prove she could do it. But for some perverse reason, with Quinn, he couldn’t let it go at just words. “Prove it? How? Losing the role clearly isn’t a sufficiently immediate and motivating consequence for you. What possible consequence can I impose that’s more persuasive?”

Pink tinged her cheeks. She dropped her lashes, took a shuddery breath, and looked up at him again. “You’d have to…punish me.”

No. No, this was going down the wrong path, and yet he felt the inevitability of it even as he tried to put on the brakes. Gently, he warned, “You couldn’t handle it.”

“Try me. Let me prove you wrong.”

She licked her lips after she tossed out the suggestion. No. Not a suggestion. A dare, which was essentially a default setting for Quinn. He walked toward the door.

“Please.”

Etched-in-stone rules faded like weathered hieroglyphics on an ancient ruin. The exquisitely fuckedup convergence of exactly what he shouldn’t do, and exactly what she needed him to do twisted inside him, becoming a single, inescapable imperative. He closed the door and clicked the lock. “Bend over the hyperextension bench and pull your shorts down.”

Her breath hitched, but a glimmer of relief shone in her eyes. “You dirty pervert.”

“Over the bench. Now. You’ve got five seconds.”

Hands slapped the sides of her thighs as her eyes darted around the gym. “Which one is the hyperextension bench?”

He pointed. She marched to the angled apparatus, hooked her heels behind the crossbar, and leaned into the padded bench designed to support her hips. Then she draped herself over it and gripped the handholds while she squirmed around looking for the least demanding position. Finally she reached around and slid her tight, white shorts down to expose the top half of her ass.

He drew in a breath to clear his head. Get his bearings. “Lower.” His voice sounded gruff to his own ears.

She made a compliant sound, and pushed the shorts down to bare her ass properly. He stepped up and ran a fingertip along the back of her knee brace—a reminder to both of them that she wasn’t as invincible as she liked to project. “Comfortable?”

“Just ducky. Wake me when you’re done.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll be very awake by the time we’re done.” He brushed his fingers up her leg, along her hip, and brought them to rest at the base of her spine. “Head up.”

All her muscles tightened as she obeyed.

“That’s good. Now, tell me the rule, Quinn.”

“W-what rule?” Her question revealed genuine confusion and only a little distress.

He placed his hand across the small of her back, reassuring. “The rule you broke. You know the one.”

“I…um…”She shifted again, as if the air itself itched her bare skin. “I’m only to eat the prepared menu, unless you tell me otherwise?”

“Exactly. And did I tell you to eat the cookies?” Her head drooped. “No.”

“How many did you have?”

“Oh, God. Three?”

He smoothed his hand over her back once more. “I think it was more like ten.”

“Five!” Her head popped up again. “I ate five.”

“Okay.” He patted her once and then removed his hand. “You’re going to count them off. Nice and loud. I want to hear each number clearly. Do you understand?”

She nodded.

“Respond verbally, please.”

“Yes, dammit. I understand.”

“Are you ready?”

Her body tensed. “Yes.”

“All right. Let’s get started.” But then he waited another long moment. Waited until she dug her toes into the floor and pushed her hips up a barely perceptible degree. Not just consent. A request. Her low moan vibrated with anticipation.

He slapped his palm across one cheek…

“One,” she cried, then added a surprised, “two,” when he immediately backhanded the other unsuspecting cheek.

“That’s one,” he corrected, and watched a tinge of pink bloom across the smooth, pale skin. “Are you prepared for the rest of your punishment? Be sure of your answer, because I’m not going to stop and check in again.”

“I…Yes. I’m prepared.”

Review:

Quinn Sheridan has been on a tv show, playing the role of a perky cheerleader for the past 5 years. She has finally broken through to the big screen playing a kick-ass heroine from a video game franchise. But the movie can still replace her before shooting begins, and a knee injury knocked her on her ass for a couple of months, so her defined body isn’t so defined anymore. Now she’s got to work with an egomaniac personal trainer on a private island resort and she isn’t even a little happy about it. Not to mention he’s ridiculously hot and the activity she wants to put her best efforts into do not involve weights or a treadmill. But this movie is make or break and she can’t afford to lose the role (for a lot of reasons) so she better get her head in the game and start kicking ass like the heroine she is about to play.

Luke McLean wants absolutely nothing to do with the Hollywood starlet. If it wasn’t for a personal favor to a very good friend, he would have declined immediately. He’s had his share of spoiled celebrity brats and he got away from it. Now he trains those who are looking to save their lives and don’t give a rip about Hollywood status. He’s supposed to be on vacation, but he’s turned it into a training session instead. He goes into the job knowing exactly what to expect and is floored when he realizes that Quinn is much more than what he had assumed. Worse, his fantasies involving Quinn on the weight bench, in the pool, in his bed … pretty much everywhere won’t stop. Doesn’t help that the temptress seems to want him just as bad. But he doesn’t cross certain boundaries for professional reasons – and he’s sure Quinn is just reacting to the fact that the training has made her completely dependent on him.

This is my second trip to the Tropical Temptation world and I found I really enjoyed myself again. The stories are similar in that the main characters have certain careers and so they are saddled with living a life of certain expectation and people making assumptions about their character. However, they are more than what people think they are. In his case though, Quinn and Luke have certain preconceived ideas about each other that they have to work past. It was pretty funny watching them react to their own incorrect expectations of a Hollywood star and a personal trainer – only to find out they were completely wrong. I’m not real sure how they managed to keep from jumping each other for so long with all of the sexual tension between the, but I was kind of glad they held off for a while – at least until it was inevitable. I have to admit, at one point, I thought they’d get through the whole training session with giving in to their desires, but no sex on the exclusive island isn’t really an option, now is it? 😊

I wouldn’t say these characters were deep, but they each had a well-developed background that explained why they made certain assumptions. Background aside, I would understand said assumptions given their career paths and interaction within those careers. The book contained a few secondary characters, but none really made much of an impression on me. However, I do see how Quinn’s brother could develop into his own story of redemption. Given the right circumstances and the right female lead, he could have one heck of a story. Overall, this was a quick-paced, entertaining read. The characters are spunky and their attraction is palpable. If you are looking for a steamy read to polish off one lazy afternoon, I’d recommend reading this one. Heck, probably the whole series now that I have read two books in the series. All books can be read as a standalone and all are from different authors, so it gives the series a bit of variation. Either way, you won’t be disappointed with an afternoon … or week at the exclusive island.

Kindle version provided by Entangled Publishing/NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.