Review Blitz: The Learning Hours by Sara Ney

He’s not a douchebag;

but that doesn’t stop his friends from

turning him into one.

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 pulse. 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.

Especially her.

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3.5 Stars
Review by Lisa Kane

This review is a little vague because we have been instructed not to divulge who the book is about. Let’s just say that this athlete has problems getting girls. He doesn’t show that it bothers him, but his teammates give him a lot of grief about it. Posters start popping up around the stadiums with his picture and phone number and things about getting him laid. He is the topic of conversation and he’s not comfortable with any of this. 

Enter a feisty red head, she likes what she sees and she wants to get to know this mystery character. But she uses a little deception to get in touch with him. 

“You’ve never given a guy a fake name? Shit, I do it almost every weekend.”

After lots of angry responses due to the unwanted texts from the hottie redhead, she finally breaks through his barriers. But he’s not exactly eager to jump into a relationship-although he is pretty eager to jump into bed.

“Girls are throwing themselves at you.”

“So?”

“So?”

“That’s how we met, why do you care?”

“Because.” I huff, exasperated. “That’s how we met.”

I’m a big fan of the first two books in this series-I didn’t find myself invested in the characters in this one as much as I loved the others. 

“She’s not your girl.” “She’s mine.”

He’s seated at a table in the far corner when I spot him from the door. He’s not hard to miss—not with his purple t-shirt in a sea of black and yellow, and wavy mussed hair.

He’s slouching, hunched over his table.

Defeated. Tired.

My stomach rolls with nerves, nerves that have me rooted to the spot in the doorway, watching him.
Just watching.

For the entire four minutes I stand here, he sits immobile, studying his laptop, eyes moving along the screen, completely transfixed by whatever he’s reading.

Learning.

“Just go over there,” I whisper to myself, blowing out a puff of pent-up air.

I put one foot in front of the other and begin toward him, spine ramrod straight, steeling myself, prepared for another argument.

Twenty feet.

Fifteen.

Eight.

Two.

“Hi.”

No reply.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” I lay my hand on the back of the wooden chair across from him, intending to pull it out.

He stiffens but doesn’t lift his head. “Yes I mind.”

“Would you mind if I sat at the table next to you?” I’m pushing his buttons, looking for a reaction, but he only spares me a brief glance.

Shrugs. “Free country.”

I bite my lip to hide a smile, glad he didn’t tell me to take a hike...









Sara Ney is the USA Today Bestselling Author of the How to Date a Douchebag series, and is best known for her sexy, laugh-out-loud New Adult romances. Among her favorite vices, she includes: iced latte's, historical architecture and well-placed sarcasm. She lives colorfully, collects vintage books, art, loves flea markets, and fancies herself British.

She lives with her husband, children, and her ridiculously large dog.

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