He’s not a douchebag; but that doesn’t stop his friends f...

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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 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...



Okay, so the rules of fight club are:

1. You don't tell anyone about fight club...It's the same with this book!!!


The rules of the How to Date a Douchebag Club are:

1. We can't tell y'all who the book is about or really what it's about...so what do we tell everyone?


It was really hard trying to come up with a review on something that you can't, you know...write. So, I'll tell you how I was feeling while I was reading it. I felt like the author was hiding in my bathroom and watching my life. Do you know how freaky that is? Seriously? Like, I checked my closet to make sure she wasn't going to pop out and go "Gotcha" and "I'm writing your story!!" The only difference is that I'm the guy in this scenario. I'm not a beautiful girl - I know this. So I've worked on my personality until I'm pretty darn funny and I can make dinner conversation for just about anything. When the main character had certain thoughts about himself not measuring up, I've had those thoughts and my heart broke for him. I wanted to hug him. Get out of my head author!! It's just not right that you're in there!! As for the heroine - I didn't like her at first...I thought she was a total seabiscuit, but then I realized that pretty people have issues too. The problem is that pretty people sometimes hide it better than that ugly people because they have all that prettiness going for them and it's like camouflage. As a society, we flock to shiny objects that are beautiful - it's natural, but if you take something that's plain and has just an alrightness to it...we don't really look too hard. This is why I really LOVED this book and hope that everyone reads it. And for the love of God people - don't catfish...it's not nice. Be who you are and others will see it!

This is probably one of the most well written books I've read this year and each Chapter header had me laughing out loud. Not only am I recommending it, but I know I'm gifting copies to all my friends because they need to read it...not cause they're pretty or anything.


So, I know this is the vaguest review ever with no explaining about the plot or whatever, but - hey I'm not getting my butt kicked by the Sara...


I was given an ARC copy by the author/publisher in exchange for an honest review. All opinions expressed are my own and do not reflect anyone else's.

  

 

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. Facebook  |  Twitter  |  Instagram