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.
"Best Read of 2017! A one click must for any lover of hot, sexy romance done RIGHT ! [This] story is the quintessential slow burn effect...Zeke will come to own your body and soul--I am OBSESSED with this series and The Failing Hours has just shot to my 'Best of All Time' list. Be prepared to fall in love with a douche bag and the woman who sets him straight. " - Books and Boys Book Blog
“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
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.
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.
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.
HOSTED BY:
a)Have charm oozing out of his pores and a irresistible sense of humor.
or...
b)Just be 100% redeemed in the end.
With Oz in The Studying Hours, we got both. With Zeke? We have full redemption, ladies and gentlemen (minus the charm for much of the book). As stated in the synopsis, Zeke is an asshole. Plain and simple, no two ways about it. There is no sugarcoating him, he's a man who doesn't spare anyone's feelings and even his friends wonder why they stick by him. To be perfectly honest, there were moments when I couldn't ever imagine liking him, he's obnoxiously rude and insensitive.
Zeke is made up entirely of anger, resentment, and a very sharp, cutting tongue. He has mommy and daddy issues written all over him, and a chip on his shoulder a mile wide. Shy, petite, and gentle Violet is no match for someone like him. At least, you would think so. After she's assigned as his tutor at the library where she works, she must find a way to be around him without being overwhelmed with anxiety. This huge, brooding wrestler intimidates her, but her persistent kindness towards him slowly breaks through the surface of his barriers. And her honesty about her own hardships in life and her class in handling them helps him take a hard look at himself. He starts to get uncomfortable with what he sees.
I know she’s selfless, but only to a point. Kindhearted. Quiet. Inexperienced. Stronger than either of us recognize. Too goddamn trusting. Too goddamn sunny for my gloom and doom. Too light for my dark. Too good for my bad. Too everything.
I was a little worried at first that Violet would be too much of a doormat under his nasty attitude. But she came to a point in the book when she put her foot down firmly and demanded respect from him. Though she understood that he was acting out of hurt and an inability to deal with being abandoned by his parents, enough was enough. She forced him to stop putting himself in the victim role and take control of his life again. And eventually, I was amazed to find myself smiling and enjoying Zeke's bewildered transformation before my eyes. The poor sap didn't know what hit him, he was like putty in her tiny little hands.
Let's get this straight: he's far from perfect. He made mistakes and his parents lack of love towards him showed in his inability to know how to deal with his emotions. But he's a work in progress, and he was soaking up Violet's love like he was desperate for it. And once he started opening up to her and trusting her, he became someone worthy of her sweet and nurturing personality. They really were opposites in every way imaginable. Yet somehow, they balanced each other out and made one very sexy and highly amusing couple.
Sara Ney knows how to write New Adult. It's loaded with humor, bantering, and enough heat to make your pulse skyrocket. The fact that she brought me around to love Zeke in the end is a huge testament to her skills. Violet brought out a tender and worshipful side that I didn't think he had in him. He fell, and he fell hard, but she gave him a safe place to land.
I’m a beautiful mess.” Rough thumbs tenderly stroke my cheeks. “You’re just beautiful.” His words kiss my soul.
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