Title: How To Date A Douchebag: The Failing Hours
Author: Sara Ney
Genre: New Adult, Sports Romance, College Romance
Release Date: January 31, 2017
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.
“That was EVERYTHING I expected, wanted, dreamed of. . . this is a MUST FREAKING READ. UNFORGETTABLE goodness. NA romance at it's best.” - Angie’s Dreamy Reads
"Sara Ney has delivered a sexy, jerkwad douchebag with soul-deep feelings and the sweet, kind, unassuming girl to reach his hidden heart in one of the best NA romantic comedies I've ever had the pleasure of reading. Ney's impeccable writing, fresh characters, and feel-good story will stick with you forever." - Bestselling Author Staci Hart
"I took so much pleasure in Zeke’s looming destruction (insert evil laugh)...." - The Reading Belles
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.
Unapproachable.
Daunting.
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.
Turns.
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.
Twenty feet.
Fifteen.
Ten.
Eight.
Three.
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.
Ding.
The tip of his forefinger presses down on the small bell.
Ding.
He hits it again, despite me standing not three feet in front of him.
What an ass.
Can a irredeemable character ever truly be redeemed? If you're Sara Ney writing The Failing Hours, then yes, absolutely. Zeke was the epitome of horrible in the first book of the series. He was perfectly terrible and it was hard to imagine anyone breaking down that mile high wall around him. But Violet, with her unassuming strength, was the perfect match for the perfect villain.
The Failing Hours is a standalone in the How to Date a Douchebag series. I would suggest reading The Studying Hours first to get a fuller picture of Zeke and some of the side characters, but that's just my humble opinion since I really, really liked book 1. Zeke is a wrestling star with a huge chip on his shoulder. He'll tell you that no one likes him (which is true) and that he doesn't care (which is also true, at least for a while). Then he meets his tutor Violet. She isn't his type, if he had one. But there is just something about her that he can't forget and as they forge an uneasy alliance in the name of helping each other out of a bind, the time they spend together shows each of the them a side to the other they least expected. But with such ingrained horribleness, Zeke isn't used to considering other people. Yet Violet makes him want to, if only he'd allow himself the privilege.
I was hooked from page one. I was so excited when this hit my Kindle that once I started reading, I didn't stop until I was done. I felt every emotion while reading this story and I both loved and loathed Zeke at different times. But Sara Ney has a knack from writing real characters that make sense and make it impossible to hate. The more I learned about Violet and Zeke, the more I fell for them and the more I got frustrated with them. Yet every time, Ms. Ney brought me back from the ledge and made my heart smile. I loved learning about these two. I loved watching them grow. And I can't wait for more.
Reviewed by Paige
★★☆ 4.5 "Reformed" Stars ☆★★
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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.
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