Bonus: The series name makes me grin.
So if you're looking for something with sexy, cocky, sometimes overconfident characters and REALLY FUN, sexy romances, this series is one you should consider.
The Studying Hours (How to Date a Douchebag #1)
CRUDE. ARROGANT. A**HOLE.The Failing Hours (How to Date a Douchebag #2)
No doubt about it, Sebastian ‘Oz’ Osborne is the university’s most celebrated student athlete—and possibly the biggest douchebag. A walking, talking cliché, he has a filthy mouth, a fantastic body, and doesn’t give a sh*t about what you or anyone else thinks.
SMART. CLASSY. CONSERVATIVE.
Make no mistake, Jameson Clarke may be the university’s most diligent student—but she is no prude. Spending most of her time in the hallowed halls of the library, James is wary of pervs, jocks, and douchebags—and Oz Osborne is all three.
She’s smart, sarcastic—and not what he expected.
…EVERY DOUCHBAG HAS HIS WEAKNESS.
He wants to be friends.
He wants to spend time with her.
He wants to drive her crazy.
Zeke Daniels isn't just a douchebag; he's an a**hole.The Learning Hours (How to Date a Douchebag #3)
A total and complete jerk, Zeke keeps people at a distance. He has no interest in relationships—most a**holes don’t.
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.
He's not a douchebag; but that doesn't stop his friends from turning him into one.The Coaching Hours (How to Date a Douchebag #4)
MY FRIENDS WANT ME TO GET LAID.
So much so that they plastered my ugly mug all over campus, in bold printed letters:
Are you the lucky lady who's going to break our roommate's cherry?
Him: socially awkward man with average-sized penis looking for willing sexual partner. You: must have a pulse. He will reciprakate with oral. Text him at: 555-254-5551
The morons can't even spell. And the texts I've been receiving are what wet dreams are made of. But I'm not like these douchebags, no matter how hard they try to turn me into one.
THIS ISN'T THE KIND OF ATTENTION I WANT.
One text stands out from hundreds. One number I can't bring myself to block. She seems different. Hotter, even in black and white.
However, after seeing her in person, I know she's not the girl for me. But my friends won't let up--they just don't get it. Douchebags or not, there's one thing they'll never understand: GIRLS DON'T WANT ME.
THERE ARE NO DOUCHEBAGS IN THIS STORY.Sara Ney
Well, there are, but they’re not who this story is about.
This story is about me—the coach’s daughter.
When I moved to Iowa to live with my dad, the university's take-no-prisoners wrestling coach, I thought transferring would be easy as pie—living with my father would be temporary, and he'd make sure his douchebag wrestlers left me alone.
Wrong on both counts.
ASSHOLES ALWAYS COME OUT OF THE WOODWORK WHEN THE STAKES ARE HIGH.
A bet is placed, and I'm on the table. After one humiliating night and too much alcohol, I find the last nice guy on campus. And when he offers to rent me his spare bedroom, I go all in. It’s time for the nice guy to finish first.
Midnight chats and spilling my problems turn to lingering touches. Lingering touches turn to more.
And the ultimate good guy has the potential do more damage than any douchebags ever could.
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