Good Clean Fun in the Spanish Sun - A Review of Portia MacIntosh's Too Hot to Handle

At one point in Portia MacIntosh’s Too Hot to Handle, Molly, FMC and “biscuit” (or cookies, as they’re called in ‘Merica) company recruiter, attempts to flirt with her maybe (?) love interest and goes for something “vaguely sex-ish” to seduce him. That, in a phrase, sums up MacIntosh’s easy, breezy read. The characters are vaguely fleshed out - four friends from Leeds soaking up the Spanish sun on a hen week (again, bachelorette party for those of us who hail from across the pond) who clash with four lads from Manchester who (GASP!) have booked the same villa for the same fortnight - and there’s some vague suggestion of sex. Granted, it takes until nearly 88% of the way through the text and it’s glossed over, keeping with the vagueness, to the point where the reader isn’t quite sure which Northerner ends up with which. On the whole, the book, more “com” than “rom,” which the author attempts a tongue-in-cheekiness meta-reference as Molly spends her downtime trying to read a romance that’s sweet rather than spicy, is the paperback version of a Hallmark movie. Good, clean fun with just enough wannabe hijinx to check the box for enemies to lovers (and I do mean plural, 3 out of 4 in the respective friend groups couple up) and provide some middle-school antics, despite the fact that the cast are closer to middle age.

I knew what I was getting into with the clean romance that MacIntosh offers. Though I was hoping that the double booking would turn into . . . well, a double booking, I knew that the heat in the title was courtesy of the Spanish sun rather than some sort of last hurrah of singledom orgy. Again, fine with that (-ish). However, in other offerings I’ve read, the author fleshes out her characters and you’re on board for their romance. Molly, however . . . She gets her requisite HEA, but, at the end of the story, notes how much of a mess her life was two years ago (AKA, when the book begins). But, was it really? Yes, her story opens with her getting dumped by her long-term boyfriend - WHO MADE IT CLEAR HE WILL NEVER MARRY HER - when she thought he was proposing. It then segues into the, again, requisite scene in which she gathers her meager belongings from his place and she (MORE GASPING) runs into the Tinder date that her ex is trying to hook up with the very day after he didn’t propose. A good look? No. But, let’s face it, our protagonist is employed (granted, she’s unwarrantedly fretful that she’s on the brink of losing her job even though there’s no real evidence of this), essentially forced by her employer to take a holiday, and has escaped what seems like a crappy relationship but one of her own design. Her ex didn’t cheat on her with her bestie (or anyone, for that matter), get a baby mama pregnant, murder someone or kick puppies. Why was her life such a mess before she meets the love of her life? Methinks the lady doth protest too much. And I don’t like it.

The plot is your standard rom-com fare: aforementioned double booking in which both parties - 4 HOT guys (3 single) and 4 presumably hot-but-not-as-hot-and-why-would-he-look-at-me? girls (same number of singletons) are given refunds but must decide amongst themselves who gets to stay at the luxury villa that is, apparently, the only booking available in the whole damn country. It’s a forced proximity, one-bed trope without the sexy time fun of one. Rather than bowing out, each group stakes their claim. The men do so more successfully, however, literally locking the women out when they make the mistake of going out for little luxuries like food and drink. We end up with a real upstairs / downstairs scenario, as the girls get the former (showers and fluffy bedding!) while the boys get the latter (kitchen and game rooms!). The tentative accord will last until the weekend, when one of the lads is getting married on Saturday and Lou, Molly’s bestie, on Sunday. That second week of the booking makes for a real Lord of the Flies situation - though the clear and very obvious reference made is to Love Island  - as the Manchester men and Leeds ladies decide that the winners of a contest (the games of which are TBD) will get that second week and which group will be out on their collective arses.

Shampoo is stolen! Competitive flirting abounds! Ooh, these boys are the worst! (They kind of are, actually, which makes it difficult to believe that Molly falls for Travis, the best of the lot - not saying much - with whom she has a meet-cute, since he’s part of the group that’s essentially keeping these women from those little things a modern-day woman needs: hydration, sustenance, and their dwindling sanity.) However, Travis is perhaps a kindred spirit - in what ways we’re not quite sure, keeping in that spirit of vagueishness - to Molly and certainly is the kindest in that he goes out of his way to give her a breakfast sandwich, hot coffee, and a surreptitiously obtained wi-fi password. If this is where the bar is set, ladies, oof. But, let’s not forget, he’s also HOT. And fun to touch! There’s so much middle-school touching and truth-or-daring in this book that I often wondered if I'd picked up one of my younger daughters' tween romances rather than a bona fide grown-up book. The week progresses - MacIntosh’s description of the villa and the splendor of the Spanish sun did make me sigh, mostly because it’s been nearly a month of rain (yay, spring in New England!) - and feelings are felt, vaguely. Travis helps Molly out of a work jam - wouldn’t you know it? He’s a chef! An award-winning one - and they spend a blissful drunken night together. I think. Again, vaguely sex-ish, so I’m assuming.

The dark moment is a pale grey at best. Molly rushes to the boys’ wedding so that Travis doesn’t have to be alone in his feels and, but of course, misunderstandings ensue. Now she HATES him and, upon his return to the villa, she gives him the cold shoulder even when he white knights his way to saving Lou’s wedding. The misunderstanding is cleared up in less time than it takes the random clouds to make way for that titular hot Spanish sun and Molly and Travis (and her other friends and his other friends!) get their HEA. Awwww . . . 

All told, a solid, if not vague, beach, or, more apropos, poolside read. Just be ready to brush your teeth extra well since the saccharine sweetness may very well cause cavities. 

Rating: 2.5 / 5 Sadly PG Games of Truth-or-Dare