Cover Reveal & Excerpt: The Learning Hours by Sara Ney


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 whoâs going to break our roommateâs 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 canât even spell. And the texts Iâve been receiving are what wet dreams are made of. But Iâm not like these douchebags, no matter how hard they try to turn me into one.
THIS ISNâT THE KIND OF ATTENTION I WANT.
One text stands out from hundreds. One number I canât bring myself to block. She seems different. Hotter, even in black and white.
However, after seeing her in person, I know sheâs not the girl for me. But my friends wonât let upâthey just don't get it. Douchebags or not, there's one thing they'll never understand: GIRLS DONâT WANT ME.
Especially her.
Heâs not a douchebag;
but that doesnât stop his friends from
turning him into one.
PRE – ORDER NOW
Amazon | Amazon UK | iBooks | B&N | KOBO
Heâs seated at a table in the far corner when I spot him from the door. Heâs not hard to missânot with his purple t-shirt in a sea of black and yellow, and wavy mussed hair.
Heâs 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 heâs reading.
Learning.
âJust go over there,â 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.
âHi.â
No reply.
âDo you mind if I sit here?â I lay my hand on the back of the wooden chair across from him, intending to pull it out.
He stiffens but doesnât lift his head. âYes I mind.â
âWould you mind if I sat at the table next to you?â Iâm pushing his buttons, looking for a reaction, but he only spares me a brief glance.
Shrugs. âFree country.â
I bite my lip to hide a smile, glad he didnât tell me to take a hike…