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THERE ARE NO DOUCHEBAGS IN THIS STORY.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.A*HOLES 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.

Zeke Daniels isn't just a douchebag; he's an a**hole. 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.