How to Date a Douchebag: The Failing Hours by Sara Ney
Published by Self Published on 1/31/17
Genres: New Adult, Sports Romance
Buy on Amazon
Zeke Daniels isn't just a douchebag; he's an asshole.
A total and complete jerk, Zeke keeps people at a distance. He has no interest in relationships—most assholes don’t.
Dating? Being part of a couple? Nope. Not for him.
He's never given any thought to what he wants in a girlfriend, because he's never had any intention of having one.
Shit, he barely has a relationship with his family, and they're related; his own friends don’t even like him.
So why does he keep thinking about Violet DeLuca?
Sweet, quiet Violet—his opposite in every sense of the word.
The light to his dark, even her damn name sounds like rays of sunshine and happiness and shit.
And that pisses him off, too.
UNFORGETTABLE GOODNESS!!!!! That what this is…. UNFORGETTABLE. GOODNESS. IN EVERY WAY. God, it was just EVERYTHING. Everything I could want from a book and so much more. You have to read this!
6 “There is nothing better than this” Stars.
Sara Ney’s Douchebags are my new addiction! I just can’t get enough. I am OBSESSED with these boys. They are ALL THE THINGS that are right in NA romance. This series (of standalone novels) has captured my attention and held it. And these characters are so special and important to me! There’s something magical about them! Something that sets them apart from the rest. I am completely giddy over Zeke and Violet. I ADORED the way their story was told. The slow burn, sizzling and enthralling romance that unfurled was luscious, leaving me completely breathless. I can honestly say that I am whole-heatedly smitten with these books—both Oz and Zeke’s. And I can’t recommend them enough. Decadent and delicious, heartfelt and absolutely intoxicating, this is NA romance at its best.
Zeke Daniels is a douchebag—an utter asshole who will literally have you wincing at his biting remarks. Zeke’s harsh and cold exterior is pissing off a lot of people, and he seems to be in need of a major attitude adjustment. Lucky for him, his wrestling coach has just the thing to set him straight. And Zeke doesn’t like that at ALL.
Violet is a happy-go-lucky girl who, despite having a bad hand in life, is working hard to make something of herself. She’s warm and sweet and always ready to lend a helping hand when someone needs it. But when Violet meets Zeke she’s intimidated and not impressed. And that leads her to do something that had me laughing out loud.
These two are so charming. My heart beat fast and my hands got sweaty from the butterflies that were taking over my belly. Zeke is a tough bastard who is not easy to crack and watching Violet soften him, open him up, and mold him into a man who can make himself vulnerable was so sweet. It had me aching and swooning at the same time.
Honestly, I’m in love with everything about this book and these characters. Zeke and Violet are complete opposites. She’s the jelly to his peanut butter, the chocolate to his pretzel (LMAO. Go with me here… chocolate and pretzels go together but still seem opposite (ish) ;p ) **hahahahahaha**
It was so refreshing! Refreshing to read NA Sports Romance with pure heart (and it’s steamy too which takes this story to another level all together). Gosh, Sara Ney just knows how to write characters who feel real and authentic. Their emotions easily become your emotions and the story is a tangible thing—you’ll close your eyes, see it, feel it and live it. It’s invigorating. A romance that’s a feast for your senses. And I was totally seduced.
I’m sort of speechless. Truly. This was ANOTHER LEVEL. And to be honest, I’ve been just sitting on this review, not really knowing what to say to do this book justice. I just …
I want you to read it.
I’ve been passionately screaming it to anyone who will listen and I will continue to do so. It’s one of my fav reads of the year and I can’t recommend it highly enough.
The clock on the wall counts the seconds, steady as the rhythm of my beating heart, which thumps wildly within my chest until the glass door to the library opens, propelled by a gust of wind.
Some new fallen leaves flutter in, the heavy doors slamming from the draft.
Along with them? Zeke Daniels.
He shuffles in, dark gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips, black Iowa Wrestling hoodie pulled up over his head, the university’s bright yellow mascot screen-printed across the chest. Backpack slung over one shoulder, black athletic flip-flops, and a pair of black sunglasses perched on the bridge of his strong nose complete the overall ensemble.
He is utterly…ridiculous.
His arrogance knows no bounds; I can see it in his loose gait, the exaggerated swagger, and the too-casual way he’s dragging his flip-flops across the cold, marble tile floor. It’s noisy, irritating, and completely uncalled for.
In the moment, my mind drifts to his personal life, and I theorize that he listens to heavy metal music to sooth his foul temperament, drinks his coffee black—as black as his soul—and his liquor straight up. I imagine once he’s had sex with someone, they’re never invited back. I go one step further and theorize that they’re never invited to spend the night at his place, either.
Zeke Daniels makes his way to a table at the far end of the room, near the periodicals, one out of the way with plenty of privacy.
Sets his bag down in one of the four wooden chairs. Flicks on the small study lamp. Plugs his laptop cord into the base and stands.
Our eyes would have met then were it not for those ludicrous sunglasses. I choose the exact moment he lifts his gaze to look down at the ground. Busy myself with shuffling papers on the counter. Count to ten instead of chanting, Please don’t come over, please don’t come over, please don’t come over…
But luck isn’t on my side because he most decidedly does.
Makes his way over like a predator at a pace so deliberate, I’m convinced he’s doing it on purpose. As if he suspects I’m watching from under my long lashes, dreading his imminent arrival.
He basks in my discomfort.
The distance between us closes, his strides purposeful.
His large hand reaches up, pushing down the hood of his sweatshirt, his fingertips pinching the earpiece of his sunglasses and pulling them off his face. My eyes follow the movements as he folds them closed, hanging them on the neckline of his hoodie.
His gaze lingers—those clear gray eyes famous around campus—and finds the shiny silver bellhop bell perched on the counter with the sign next to it that reads, Ring for help.
The tip of his forefinger presses down on the small bell.
He hits it again, despite me standing not three feet in front of him.
What an ass.
About the Author
Purveyor of all things witty & romantic, I love: iced latte’s, traveling, and bright, bold colors. On any given day, you can find me in my office, lovingly gazing at my bookshelf or shuffling my Bic felt-tip pen collection. I love hand writing letters, and sarcasm.
I live in the midwest, but “Will Write for Travel,” and believe everyone should follow their dreams, no matter how big or small. My favorite authors include Cindy Miles, S Walden, Suzanne Enoch, Tessa Dare (to name a few). I am a glutton for Historical, RomCom, Sports and MC romance.
One husband. Two daughters. Plenty of chaos.
SERIES READING ORDER:
PS: This is a series of standalone novels.