“Coffeezilla” Meets “Hellcat” (NOT a Book About Monster Trucks and Their Subsequent Jams, if that’s what you were thinking . . .) - An ARC Review of Designed for Disaster by Leslie North

Despite my rather voracious appetite for contemporary romance, this was my first encounter with Leslie North. So many ladies writing serviceable smut (and the token straight men and handful of gays), so little time. My initial reaction: enjoyable enough. In fact, enjoyable enough that even though this book is a standalone, I've already gone back and ordered the previous two titles in her "Manhattan Bossholes" series. Stay tuned for my take on these stories of two of “The Lost Boys”, best friends of Trent Saunders, Designed for Disaster’s love interest, CEO, and, initially, "Coffeezilla". 

I’ll pause here and let that sink in. Coffeezilla. As noted in my (not)spoiler, that’s a kick-ass name for a mud-splattered Monster Truck. For the MMC in a contemporary romance, not as much. In fact, I’m heretofore issuing a ban on the -zilla suffix, romance authors. Much like -gate, and -maggedon, I’m over it. 

Back to Trent . . . after getting FMC Natasha, struggling artiste / custom furniture designer, fired from her admittedly less than stellar barista job, the two experience some rom-com kismet when she ends up at his beloved Grandma Dee's Long Island estate to custom design some, wait for it . . . furniture. Sparks fly, not in the good way at first, and Natasha, upon whom Trent has bestowed the moniker “Hellcat,” both for her curves and temper, quickly becomes his fake girlfriend to brighten Dee's spirits and health. For a price, of course, as she's given a cushy role, staff, and salary at Trent's business. 

I’m divided on the sick elderly matriarch trope. Actually, I’m not. The elderly matriarch trope - when you’ve got a bawdy grandma or great aunt who’s sowing the wild oats she never got to in her youth because . . . the patriarchy - I’m all in on. But, when you’ve got, as you so often do in the marriage of convenience trope, the dying old lady who needs to see her favorite grandson in a relationship before she either gives up the ghost or, more likely, finds the will to live because of it? Meh.

Back to back to Trent. No surprise to the audience, our fake lovers become real lovers and layers are stripped away (that's some furniture humor, folks) as Natasha and Trent realize their feelings for one another. Both are plagued by backstories involving family drama that lend to their individual characters and why they work as a couple. Additionally their shared baggage, again to no surprise, also leads to their dark moment and several misunderstandings, mostly on Trent's behalf.

Men and their misunderstandings. Amirite? We know that they’re coming. We need them to come. But, dear Lord, the minor misunderstandings that lead to the blowups and the breakups and the breakdowns. Too often, they're just too much. True, our female leads - Natasha included - are not immune to such faux pas. However, they’re nowhere near as outrageous as those that the men stumble into, hoisting themselves on to their own petards, as it were (weren’t expecting a little Shakespeare in your smut round-up? Always a time and a place for the Bard, friends). Trent’s “misunderstanding”, however? It’s in a league of it’s own. And, while there may be no crying in baseball, tears are flowing when he makes the egregious error of assuming that Natasha has been using him this whole time (despite the fact that their fake relationship was, you know, his idea that he essentially bullied her into) and is the cold and callous bitch that all these alphahole CEOs think that women are despite hundreds of pages of evidence to the contrary. (Trent's oopsie really is a doozy. Don’t want to spoil too much but his vitriol comes on the heels of Natasha white-knighting his little brother, essentially saving him from his own privileged stupidity, and definitely hits hard because of this.)  

As they are wont to do, however, our female lead digs deep and finds forgiveness - after the requisite mea culpa with the massive price tag. If, in my next life, I cross paths with a disgustingly rich, sickeningly handsome, and just grumpy enough CEO, I will happily take whatever apology gift he’d like to bestow, especially if it’s in the form of Manhattan real estate. Though, I’m not picky, I’d take real estate in whatever zip code or form it’s presented to me. 

Overall, a cute page-turner with a delightful supporting cast of characters. My biggest complaint, as it often seems to be, is that Coffezilla and Hellcat’s HEA is a little too easy and quick. I know, endings are hard (almost as hard as the MMC in the final scrap of a sex scene that’s thrown our way).  Still, there are far worse crimes in rom-comdom than the rushed reconciliation, so it's not too difficult to overlook.

Rating: 3.5 / 5 Cups of Coffee Tossed on Tight-fighting Trousers