Beautiful Bastard started out as Fifty Shades of Twilight fanfic. Someone, some really, really, really stupid someone, actually greenlit this pile of crap and published it. On paper. With, you know, ink and glue. That person should be fired.
Chloe Mills is an intern at a big, fancy-schmancy family company, and she's working for Bennett Ryan, who is the surly prodigal son, recently back from Europe and poised to take charge of the company. Somehow, Chloe knows the Ryan family, including Bennett's dad, and they all love her, but for some reason, Bennett hates Chloe, and Chloe thinks he's a jackass. Which, he kind of is, so I can't fault her for that. But what I can fault her for is that five pages in, she's leaning over a conference room table, and Bennett's got his hand up her skirt, ripping her underwear, and suddenly, they're boinking all over the place.
Of course, Chloe's horrified, and Bennett clams up, and he goes back to being a jackass, and she goes back to being... whatever Chloe is. But ten pages later, they're boinking again. Lather, rinse, repeat, and you know what the most annoying part is? He rips her underwear every freaking time. And little Miss Chloe here doesn't wear Hanes Her Way. No, ma'am. She wears Agent Provacateur and La Perla. On an intern's salary. And likes it when Bennett rips her drawers. I'm here to tell you, if I spent three hundred bucks on a pair (one pair!) of underwear, I don't care if it's George Clooney himself, nobody's ripping my skivvies. My biggest splurge is the 5 for $25 sale at Target, and I think I'd get mad if George ripped one of those. (Well, maybe not. It's George. Probably I could make him buy me some new ones.)
And then, the book just... ends. Sex, sex, sex, underwear ripping, sex, big fight, weird uncomfortable slightly rapey scene in a lingerie shop, sex, sex, underwear ripping, sex, and then that's it.
Chloe, honey? Kick Bennett to the curb, find someone who's not going to be all rapey in the conference room, and maybe get some therapy. And Bennett? Grow up and get over yourself. You are a jabillionaire with a nice family who loves you. You have no reason to be all angsty. And learn to do the BDSM thing the right way, dude.
You know what this book is? It's porn. Which is okay. I like porn, if it's well done. But this is bad porn. With bad sex. Bad cheesy hairy 70s porn with a big giant porn stashe and a bow chicka wow wow soundtrack. Ew.
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