New Release + Blog Tour + Trailer + Playlist + Giveaway: Dirt by Cassia Leo

Today we have the blog tour for DIRT by Cassia Leo! Check it out and grab your copy today!

 

Title: DIRT
Author: Cassia Leo
Series: Evergreen Series
Release: January 12, 2018

 

About Dirt

A hard-hitting, emotional new series from New York Times bestselling author Cassia Leo.

Jack and I had everything. Then, in one brutal instant, the universe tilted on its side, discarding us into black nothingness.

Now, I have a cocky a**hole for a husband.

The only way we communicate anymore is when we’re fighting or f**king.

With nothing left to lose, I write Jack a goodbye letter and head for Portland, where I quickly meet a neighbor who helps me find a job.

My new neighbor—broody, tattooed ex-soldier Isaac Evans—is complicated. Nevertheless, we form a fast friendship, bonding over our mutual desire to create something beautiful from the wreckage of our lives.

But despite the distance between us, Jack and I are still trying to make things work—fighting and f**king dirtier than ever. And he doesn’t appreciate my new friendship with Isaac. Not one f**king bit.

Buy Now

Amazon | iBooks | Nook | Kobo | Google Play

Paperback

Add the Evergreen Series to Goodreads

 

 

Excerpt

I slid out of bed as he knelt down to tie the laces of his gym sneaker. “Why don’t you stay a while? It’s Sunday. We can have breakfast, then we can Netflix and chill all day.”

He stood up and flashed me an uncomfortable smile. “I wish I could, but I have to get home. I have a Q&A in the Facebook group at two p.m.”

My stomach dropped. I had just asked him to stay here and basically have sex with me all day and he would rather do a Q&A with some internet sleuths in the Justice for Jack Stratton Jr. Facebook group.

I blinked a few times as I attempted to recover. “Okay. Have fun.”

He rolled his eyes. “This Q&A has been planned for months.”

“Yeah, I get it,” I said, turning to leave the room. “I’m fine. I swear. I have to get started in the garden, anyway.”

He followed me down the hall toward the stairs. “Are you sure you’re not going to hold this over my head later?”

I bit my lip to keep from lashing out. I wanted to tell him that I had every right to hold this over his head, because this was one of the reasons I had decided to leave. But I had initiated this separation. He was simply adhering to the rules of living separately.

As we reached the bottom of the stairs, I headed straight for the front door. “I’m not going to hold this over your head, but I’m also not going to pretend it doesn’t bother me. We can talk about it later, maybe with the marital counselor.”

He sighed as he reached for the doorknob. “Great. Something to look forward to.”

I flashed him a fake smile as he pulled the front door open. “I’ll call you when I’ve scheduled our first appointment.”

He nodded. “Right.” He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something else, then he pressed his lips together to stop himself. “All right, well, I guess we’ll talk later?”

I nodded, but I remained silent, afraid my words would betray me and we’d end this conversation with an argument.

“All right,” he said, eyebrows raised. “This is really fucking awkward. Can we at least acknowledge that?”

“Acknowledged.”

“Okay,” he said, stepping toward me. “I’ll call you later.”

He planted a quick kiss on my forehead, then stepped out onto the porch. As I watched Jack’s truck drive away, I knew I’d made the right decision. How could two people who knew each other the way we did feel like strangers?

 

Trailer

 

Spotify Playlist

https://open.spotify.com/embed/user/cassialeo/playlist/7dUHV27ZCwfC5sAT4gtbP4

 

Giveaway

A Rafflecopter giveaway

Enter the Facebook Giveaway

 

About Cassia Leo

New York Times bestselling author Cassia Leo loves her coffee, chocolate, and margaritas with salt. When she’s not writing, she spends way too much time re-watching Game of Thrones and Sex and the City. When she’s not binge watching, she’s usually enjoying the Oregon rain with a hot cup of coffee and a book.

Find her on…

Newsletter | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Website

Join Club Cassia

Release Blitz +Playlist + Trailer + Giveaways: Dirt by Cassia Leo

Today we have the release blitz for DIRT by Cassia Leo! Check it out and grab your copy today!

 

Title: DIRT
Author: Cassia Leo
Series: Evergreen Series
Release: January 12, 2018

 

About Dirt

A hard-hitting, emotional new series from New York Times bestselling author Cassia Leo.

Jack and I had everything. Then, in one brutal instant, the universe tilted on its side, discarding us into black nothingness.

Now, I have a cocky a**hole for a husband.

The only way we communicate anymore is when we’re fighting or f**king.

With nothing left to lose, I write Jack a goodbye letter and head for Portland, where I quickly meet a neighbor who helps me find a job.

My new neighbor—broody, tattooed ex-soldier Isaac Evans—is complicated. Nevertheless, we form a fast friendship, bonding over our mutual desire to create something beautiful from the wreckage of our lives.

But despite the distance between us, Jack and I are still trying to make things work—fighting and f**king dirtier than ever. And he doesn’t appreciate my new friendship with Isaac. Not one f**king bit.

Buy Now

Amazon | iBooks | Nook | Kobo | Google Play

Paperback

Add the Evergreen Series to Goodreads

 

 

Giveaway

A Rafflecopter giveaway

Enter the Facebook Giveaway

 

Trailer

 

Spotify Playlist

https://open.spotify.com/embed/user/cassialeo/playlist/7dUHV27ZCwfC5sAT4gtbP4

 

About Cassia Leo

New York Times bestselling author Cassia Leo loves her coffee, chocolate, and margaritas with salt. When she’s not writing, she spends way too much time re-watching Game of Thrones and Sex and the City. When she’s not binge watching, she’s usually enjoying the Oregon rain with a hot cup of coffee and a book.

Find her on…

Newsletter | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Website

Join Club Cassia

</h2

Chapter Reveal + Trailer + Playlist + Giveaways: Dirt by Cassia Leo

Today we have the chapter reveal for DIRT by Cassia Leo! Check them out and pre-order your copy today!

 

Title: DIRT
Author: Cassia Leo
Series: Evergreen Series
Release: January 12, 2018

 

About Dirt

A hard-hitting, emotional new series from New York Times bestselling author Cassia Leo.

Jack and I had everything. Then, in one brutal instant, the universe tilted on its side, discarding us into black nothingness.

Now, I have a cocky a**hole for a husband.

The only way we communicate anymore is when we’re fighting or f**king.

With nothing left to lose, I write Jack a goodbye letter and head for Portland, where I quickly meet a neighbor who helps me find a job.

My new neighbor—broody, tattooed ex-soldier Isaac Evans—is complicated. Nevertheless, we form a fast friendship, bonding over our mutual desire to create something beautiful from the wreckage of our lives.

But despite the distance between us, Jack and I are still trying to make things work—fighting and f**king dirtier than ever. And he doesn’t appreciate my new friendship with Isaac. Not one f**king bit.

99¢ iBooks Pre-Order

Sign up for Release Alerts

Add the Evergreen Series to Goodreads

Chapter Reveal

Chapter 1

Laurel

I hugged Jack Jr. tightly against my breast, and he molded his soft, warm body to mine. His eyes remained closed as his tiny fingers curled around the fabric of my blouse, his rosy lips puckering as he geared up for more food.

“You sucked me dry, little fella,” I whispered, leaning in to press my nose against the downy-soft, golden hair on the top of his head. I inhaled his scent and my muscles unspooled. “But I’ll be back to feed you soon. I promise.”

Why do babies smell so damn good?

Before I got pregnant with Junior, my favorite smell was orange blossoms. As a teenager, I often got scolded by my mom for picking the flowers off the orange tree in our backyard in Portland. I’d rub the creamy petals between my fingers, bruise them with my fingernails, then sniff my hand for hours until the scent wore off.

When I was pregnant with Junior, my favorite scent became the rich aroma of the forbidden coffee I could no longer drink.

After Junior was born, and my decaf days came to a glorious end, I realized how wrong I’d been. There was absolutely no scent as sweet and soul-quieting as the smell of the top of a baby’s head. Bonus points if the baby was lying peacefully on your chest sound asleep.

“Are you ever going to put him down?”

I flicked my head sideways, startled by Jack’s clear, baritone voice.

He stood in the doorway of Junior’s nursery, the silhouette of his six-foot-three athletic body framed by the warm light in the hallway. His head was tilted to the side. He’d probably been standing there admiring us for a while. After six years together, I knew Jack’s body language and facial expressions better than I knew my own face.

I stood from the rocking chair and stole one more sniff of Junior’s head before I placed him gently on his back in the center of the crib. I adjusted the left sleeve of his pajamas, pulling it down to make sure it covered his entire chubby arm. I didn’t want to imagine him waking up cold and alone in here.

Jack appeared at my side as I switched on the video baby monitor. “He’s going to be fine,” he murmured, reaching down to stroke the soft patch of hair on Junior’s head. “In fact, he’ll probably enjoy some time alone. After all, he is just like his daddy; sometimes, we need a break from the constant attention from the ladies.”

I rolled my eyes and headed for the door. “Making jokes only makes leaving him slightly less scary, you know,” I said as we stepped into the hallway of our five-bedroom dream home in Hood River, Oregon. I couldn’t wait to fill up every one of these bedrooms with brothers and sisters for Jack Jr.

Jack chuckled as he followed closely behind me. “Less scary is an improvement,” he replied, grabbing my hand to stop me in the middle of the corridor. “You promised Junior you’d be back soon. Can you also make me a promise?”

The hallway lights made his dark hair look glaringly shiny, but I couldn’t help but notice how weary his blue eyes looked tonight. Since Junior arrived three months ago, I’d been so focused on my baby boy’s vulnerability, his scent, his beauty, I hadn’t slowed down enough to appreciate how those were the same qualities that made me fall in love with Jack.

Suddenly, my worries about leaving Junior with my mother for the evening evaporated. All I wanted to do was kiss Jack, grab hold of that dark hair and make love to him for hours. I wanted to replace the weariness in his eyes with dark hunger, or maybe a glint of mischief.

I squeezed his hand and smiled at the thought of possibly having sex with him in public tonight. We hadn’t done that in a while.

“What kind of promise?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Nope, you’re not allowed to ask. Just promise me you’ll say yes.”

My stomach vaulted at the sound of those words. They were the same words Jack spoke when he asked me to marry him. I wondered what he would ask this time.

The phrase “just promise me you’ll say yes” had become like an inside joke, our own private, unspoken promise to each other that we would always do whatever it took to stay together. The last time he had uttered this phrase, he asked me to stop taking my birth control pills. With Junior here, it was easy to trust that whatever Jack asked me for this time would turn out to be exactly what I needed.

I tilted my head back so I could look up and into his crystal-blue eyes. “Yes, I can make you a promise.”

His expression became sober. “Promise me you’ll be present tonight.” He fixed me with a piercing gaze as his large hand cupped my face. “It’s just you and me for the next three hours. Promise me.”

I smiled. “I promise. Just you and me. And I’ll even put my cell phone on vibrate.” As I said the words, a sharp finger of fear prodded my subconscious, telling me it was a bad idea to risk missing a phone call tonight.

The exhaustion in Jack’s eyes melted away as he smiled. “I can deal with that, but you have to promise me one more thing.”

“What’s that?”

His smile turned almost menacing as he looped his arm around my waist and drew me close. “Promise me you’ll lemme smash that blonde bombshell booty,” he said, landing a light swat on my ass.

I shook my head as I recalled how we often had sex in public during our first year together, in our senior year at Oregon State University, Cascades. For some reason, once we graduated and moved in together, having sex in public seemed like something we couldn’t get away with so easily. We decided public sex-hibitions — or throw downs, as we more commonly referred to them — would be reserved for special occasions like anniversaries or vacations.

Truthfully, Jack and I kicked off our relationship by having sex on the first date. He was always a very difficult man to resist. When he showed up at my apartment to pick me up that night, I couldn’t resist his suggestion that we should stay in and make paper masks of ourselves, then put them on and ask each other first date questions as if we were the other person. I had never laughed so much on any date. Ever. But when he asked — while pretending to be me — if I’d ever had sex with someone on the first date, I couldn’t help but respond with, “I’m Jack-fucking-Stratton. I’ve fucked a lot of girls on the first date. But none as gorgeous as you.”

Jack always knew how to keep things fresh and alarmingly sexy. Six years in and my body still craved him almost every second of every day.

Today was our three-year wedding anniversary. We’d only had sex twice since I gave birth to Junior three months ago, and both of those times were truly awkward.

The first time was painful. My C-section incision hadn’t fully healed yet, and even trying to have sex with him behind me was uncomfortable. The second time we tried, Jack was so afraid of hurting me, he stopped midway through. There’d been a lot of oral sex happening in this house since then.

Luckily, a few weeks had passed since our last attempt, and I had repeatedly assured him I was fully healed up now. I was certain that even if the sex did hurt a little, it would still be worth it. I couldn’t understand couples that didn’t consider sex an important part of a relationship. I never felt more complete, more present, more alive than when my body and mind were entwined with Jack’s.

I smiled as I wrapped my arms around his waist. “I think I know just the place for a proper throw down.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Ooh. Tell me more.”

As he leaned in to kiss me, my mother’s voice interrupted us.

“Are you two making out again?” she said, standing at the top of the stairs with her hands on her hips as she gawped at us. “Well, don’t let me stop you.”

Jack laughed and I shook my head as we moved toward her.

“We’re just trying to keep you entertained while you’re on vacation, Beth,” Jack said.

My mother cocked an eyebrow. “If I wanted to watch porn, I’d open up your laptop and have a look at your internet history.”

“Mom, don’t be gross,” I protested, trying not to laugh.

Jack smiled as he held out his elbow for my mom to grab hold as they descended the stairs in front of me. “I made a special collection of links for you. They’re in a folder labeled Tantric Geriatric. You’ll love it.”

I rolled my eyes. Jack and my mother exchanged jabs like this all day.

My mother was staying with us for a few days, so Jack and I could have some time to ourselves and get some much-needed uninterrupted sleep. She was leaving tomorrow to go back to the house where I grew up in Portland. Though she pretended as if she was desperate to get home to her Craftsman cottage in the city, and I even teased her about how she was dying to get back so she could see the handsome new neighbor she’d been going on about, I knew she was going to miss Jack’s pretend insults as much as she would miss Junior and me.

My mother practically shoved me toward the front door. “I order you to go have fun,” she said, smiling as Jack opened the door and stepped outside. “And don’t come home until you’re too drunk to walk.”

I shook my head. “Thanks, Mom. Please call if you need anything. And don’t answer the door for anyone. There’s a house that got broken into a few streets away.”

She waved off my paranoia. “Stop worrying so much. We’ll be fine. See you later, babe.”

I blew her a kiss, then I closed the door behind me.

* * *

“I have to admit, having sex on the waterfront was one of my favorite public throw downs ever,” Jack said, pulling his Tesla into the long driveway of our four-acre estate. “But do we really have to wait until our fourth anniversary to do it again?”

I tugged the silky fabric of my skirt straight as I pressed my thighs together. Though my body was still raw with the evidence of the dirty deed we’d just committed, I couldn’t wait to get Jack inside and pounce on him again. I hadn’t realized how much I missed the sensation of him moving inside me, and how good he was at making me feel beautiful.

“We can do that anytime we can snag a babysitter,” I replied as he turned the car off.

He made no move to exit the Tesla. “Well, babycakes, you’d better get ready to interview a fuck-ton of babysitters.”

I laughed. “Babycakes? That’s a new one.”

Jack rarely used the same term of endearment twice in a row. He liked to keep me guessing.

He scrunched up his nose. “Yeah, that one was kind of creepy. Now that I’ve tried it out, I think I can bury that one in the nickname graveyard.”

“Try the incinerator,” I said, reaching for the door handle.

“Duly noted,” he replied, exiting the vehicle.

Jack and I glided unhurriedly along the flagstone walkway, which was lined with sparkling pathway lights. As we made our way toward the steps leading up to the covered porch, I stopped in the middle of the path and closed my eyes as I inhaled the sweet scent of the lavender and honeysuckle I’d planted with my mom’s help.

That was when I made a wish, a corny wish, but I didn’t care.

I wished that every person could find someone they loved as much as I loved Jack. I wished every child could feel as loved as Junior was. And I wished every anniversary could be as perfect as this one.

“No… No, no, no!” Jack’s voice grew louder with each no.

They say mother’s intuition is scientifically proven to exist. I knew by the tone of Jack’s voice, without even opening my eyes, that my world would never be the same. I knew in that instant, I would regret leaving Jack Jr. tonight for the rest of my life.

Though I knew something was wrong, I wasn’t prepared for what we found.

At some point, while we were lost in our blissful celebration, the front door of our home had been forced open. This discovery was what had made Jack cry out in disbelief. Father’s intuition must also be a thing, because he told me later that, even though the door was still closed, the moment he saw the gouges in the wood near the handle, he had felt that same sense of dread. That feeling that the universe had suddenly tilted on its side, discarding us into black nothingness.

The house was ransacked.

Furniture upended, paintings and flatscreen televisions torn off the walls, shards of shattered vases littered the floors. Complete and utter chaos.

The master bathroom doorknob looked as if it had been shot off. We found my mother’s lifeless form huddled against the bathtub, my baby boy’s dead body clutched tightly in her arms.

Trailer

Spotify Playlist

https://open.spotify.com/embed/user/cassialeo/playlist/7dUHV27ZCwfC5sAT4gtbP4

Giveaway

A Rafflecopter giveaway
 

Enter the Facebook Giveaway

 

About Cassia Leo

New York Times bestselling author Cassia Leo loves her coffee, chocolate, and margaritas with salt. When she’s not writing, she spends way too much time re-watching Game of Thrones and Sex and the City. When she’s not binge watching, she’s usually enjoying the Oregon rain with a hot cup of coffee and a book.

Find her on…

Newsletter | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Website

Join Club Cassia

 

Cover Reveal + Trailer + Giveaway + Playlist: Dirt and Seed by Cassia Leo

Today we have the cover reveal for DIRT and SEED by Cassia Leo! Check them out and pre-order your copy of DIRT today!

 

Title: Dirt & Seed
Author: Cassia Leo
Series: Evergreen Series
Release: January 12, 2018

 

About Dirt

(Seed Synopsis to be revealed later)

A hard-hitting, emotional new series from New York Times bestselling author Cassia Leo.

Jack and I had everything. Then, in one brutal instant, the universe tilted on its side, discarding us into black nothingness.

Now, I have a cocky a**hole for a husband.

The only way we communicate anymore is when we’re fighting or f**king.

With nothing left to lose, I write Jack a goodbye letter and head for Portland, where I quickly meet a neighbor who helps me find a job.

My new neighbor—broody, tattooed ex-soldier Isaac Evans—is complicated. Nevertheless, we form a fast friendship, bonding over our mutual desire to create something beautiful from the wreckage of our lives.

But despite the distance between us, Jack and I are still trying to make things work—fighting and f**king dirtier than ever. And he doesn’t appreciate my new friendship with Isaac. Not one f**king bit.

99¢ iBooks Pre-Order

Sign up for Release Alerts

Add the Evergreen Series to Goodreads

Check out the DIRT trailer
 
Enter the Facebook Giveaway

Spotify Playlist

https://open.spotify.com/embed/user/cassialeo/playlist/7dUHV27ZCwfC5sAT4gtbP4

About Cassia Leo

New York Times bestselling author Cassia Leo loves her coffee, chocolate, and margaritas with salt. When she’s not writing, she spends way too much time re-watching Game of Thrones and Sex and the City. When she’s not binge watching, she’s usually enjoying the Oregon rain with a hot cup of coffee and a book.

Find her on…

Newsletter | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Website

Join Club Cassia

Giveaway

A Rafflecopter giveaway

Happy Release: Anti-Romance by Cassia Leo….A Stand Alone Novel

AntiRomance

Anti-Romance

A Stand Alone Novel

By Cassia Leo

Buy : Amazon / B & N / ITunes / Kobo

442d5-goodreads

About Anti-Romance:

Laney Hill is screwed. On the bed. On the treadmill. On the hood of a BMW. And on her boss’s desk. Then she’s screwed again when she steps into the free clinic and finds out she has gonorrhea. That dirty prick gave her gonorrhea! She’s totally going to break up with him…until he breaks up with her…because he’s married!

A night out drinking with friends leads to a fateful–yet awkwardly-sloppy–kiss between her and her best friend George Bratton.

George has been single and pining for his ex-girlfriend ever since their breakup two years ago. When his ex invites him to her destination wedding in London, self-destructive George and gonorrhea survivor Laney make a deal to go as each other’s dates. It will make great material for Laney’s “Anti-Romance” blog and maybe it will help George finally get over his ex. Nothing could possibly go wrong, right?

This is a stand-alone novel.

 

 

Chapter One

ANTI-ROMANCE
CHAPTER 1 – EXCERPT

Copyright © 2016 by Cassia Leo.

The tip of his erection was pressed firmly against my opening, a rock hard promise of the pleasure to come. This was the way he loved to tease me, right after making me come with his masterful tongue. He knew I needed him inside me. Needed to feel his girth stretching me. Needed to feel the closeness of his sweat-dampened skin pressed against mine.
But he wasn’t going to give in so easily.
First he would draw out the anticipation, until I was begging for him to fuck me. He would kiss and caress my body until I was forced to beg for it, until I reached the point of no return, where even the slightest touch would set off a chain reaction inside my body; a domino effect of nerve endings firing through every inch of my body, cascading uncontrollably toward my center, concluding in a mind-numbing, thigh-quaking, chest-rattling climax. Then, and only then, did he plunge into me with the force of an armada crashing upon the shores, ready to plunder the land for all its riches. I, the willingly-pillaged maiden, could only cry out in unbridled ecstasy as he took everything I had. Every moan. Every scream. Every drop of passion coursing through me.
When he finished inside me, his dying erection still twitching in its final death throes, he draped his body over mine as I lay back across the hood of his BMW. Mouth slightly hung open, his breathing heavy on my damp skin as his lips pressed against my neck. Each breath he exhaled sent a gentle shiver coursing through me; goosebumps sprouted over my skin as he lightly stroked my outer thigh with the backs of his fingers.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he murmured in my ear.
Though Rick had said these words a thousand times since we began dating two months ago, I still reminded myself not to believe them. I wasn’t gorgeous—not by his standards or anyone else’s. Maybe I could be described as “cute…if she lost a few pounds, got lip injections, and used a curling iron on those limp locks every once in a while.” No one—other than Rick—had ever called me, Laney Hill, gorgeous.
But what I lacked in the looks department, I more than made up for with a firm grip and a “fiery spirit,” as my former women’s studies professor used to call it; or, as my best friend liked to call it these days, my “unbridled cynicism.”
My best friend, George Bratton, was a serial monogamist and—God help him—a hopeless romantic. His shortest romantic relationship lasted more than a year. My longest relationship lasted ten months, and that ended a few years ago when I decided to change careers. Since then, I’d plowed through more men than Al Capone’s Tommy gun.
Of course, most of my romantic misadventures had been undertaken in the name of research for my blog, lovingly named Anti-Romance: The seedy parlor where romance goes to get a happy-ending before it dies. At least, this is what I had convinced myself of. I only entered dead-end relationships for my job. It certainly wasn’t because I was screwed up in any way. Nope. Not me. I was just an artist willing to live my art. I entertained the world—well, my 257,000 subscribers—with my cocked-up love life. I was the canvas and my choice of medium was unavailable men.
“I guess I’ll talk to you tomorrow after the rally?” I asked the question in a breathy murmur, trying to make my minuscule request sound even less demanding.
He blew out a deep breath as he stood straighter. “I can’t. I’ll be flying to D.C. to play preschool teacher to some women’s rights groups. I have to coordinate the announcement of their endorsements on social media. I’ll call you to set something up when I get back.”
I forced a smile as his green eyes locked on mine. “Of course. If you need any help,” I replied, tracing the tip of my tongue along his sharp jawline, savoring the salt of his efforts, “I’m great at kissing up to disillusioned constituents.”
He chuckled heartily as he pulled away and reached for his waistline to button his slacks. “As much as I appreciate the offer, I think the candidate would rather I tackle this alone.”
The candidate.
Three months into our smoldering farce of a courtship and Rick still felt the need to call Senator John Grossman—the Republican presidential candidate he worked for—“the candidate.” As if I were too stupid to know he was referring to Senator Grossman.
I may not have graduated from Harvard, but I was not stupid.
In fact, I graduated in the top two percent of my class with a degree in psychology and a minor in women’s studies. Our country, on the other hand, was circling the Idiocracy drain. As evidenced by the untethered enthusiasm for reality TV—and, in my case, reality blogs—it was only a matter of time before we Americans would go sliding down a sludge-filled drainpipe and end up sloshing around the intellectual sewer system. The way I saw it, if our ship was going down, I wanted to go down in a yacht, not a life raft.
I adjusted the crotch of my panties, all the while ignoring the burning itch that always followed rough sex with Rick. Though, it did seem to be getting worse lately. Must be a slight feminine “imbalance.” Nothing a little over-the-counter ointment wouldn’t fix.
I smoothed down the skirt of my dress as Rick pulled up the zipper on his trousers. He wore that sly grin that communicated one of the following: a) He could go for another round, or b) He was quite pleased that he had conquered me in yet another public forum. The first time we had sex in public was on my third day working undercover in Grossman’s Austin headquarters.
I thought seducing a Republican would make a great story for my blog followers. Rick thought having sex on his desk would be a great stress reliever. I knew we would make a great team.
Actually, Rick was the first guy I’d considered letting in on my secret. Since I started my Anti-Romance blog four years ago, I’d told zero men that our relationship would be used for entertainment. Online, I went by the pseudonym Amber F. Thus far, none of my male companions had linked me to Amber. But Rick and I had been working together and fucking each other for almost three months. Somehow, this felt different.
And, technically, I hadn’t written about Rick on the blog yet. I usually journaled about my relationships in a private app on my computer until we broke up. Then I’d go back and embellish my journal entries wherever necessary and upload each entry to the blog. My followers didn’t know if my dating life was happening in real time or past tense. Part of me did this because I was fastidious about never publishing a first draft, even if it was a first draft of a real life event. Another part of me hoped that when I found the right guy, my followers would never know anything about him, because our relationship would never end so I’d never have the opportunity to blog about it.
Stranger things had happened.
The look in Rick’s green eyes was breaking me down brick by brick. I felt myself blushing from the top of my head to my nether regions. I had to tell him about the blog.
He reached up and cupped my face, his thumb gently stroking my cheek. “I can’t wait until the primaries are over and I can take you away with me for a few days.” He brushed his lips over mine and the pulsing ache between my legs returned, which only accentuated the burning itch. “Where do you want me to fuck you next? Under a waterfall in Hawaii? In front of the Eiffel Tower in Paris?”
“Benghazi!” I blurted out and his face hardened as he pulled away. I delivered a playful shove to his solid chest. “I’m kidding. Paris sounds magnifique.”
The sound of a car door opening startled us both. I whipped my head around to find my young and surly-in-a-hot-way neighbor stepping out of his pickup truck, which was parked right next to Rick’s BMW.
He was sitting in his truck this whole time?
My face flushed with heat as my neighbor attempted to keep his head down while passing us, but he couldn’t hide his smirk. Oh. My. God. The poor guy was trapped in his car this whole time because he was too afraid to disturb our public fuck-session.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured as he passed.
His head twitched in my direction, but he didn’t dare make eye contact. “No worries, ma’am,” he muttered as he continued toward our apartment complex.
It was about 60 degrees in January, but I could swear it was summer in Austin as a searing warmth crept up my cheeks.

About Cassia:
Cassia Leo Bio Pic

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Cassia Leo loves her coffee, chocolate, and margaritas with salt. When she’s not writing, she spends way too much time watching old reruns of Friends and Sex and the City. When she’s not watching reruns, she’s usually walking in the rain or reading.

Come chat with her on
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/authorcassialeo
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/AuthorCassiaLeo
You can also follow her blog at http://cassialeo.com

 

 

Cover Reveal + Sneak Peek…Chapter One: Anti-Romance by Cassia Leo

We’re excited to share the cover and first chapter of Cassia Leo’s upcoming release, Anti-Romance, with you today! Anti-Romance is NOT a romance. This is a hilariously screwed-up stand-alone novel love story. This is a book you’ll definitely want to grab in paperback; the cover will be completely colorable!

AntiRomance

About Anti-Romance:

Laney Hill is screwed. On the bed. On the treadmill. On the hood of a BMW. And on her boss’s desk. Then she’s screwed again when she steps into the free clinic and finds out she has gonorrhea. That dirty prick gave her gonorrhea! She’s totally going to break up with him…until he breaks up with her…because he’s married!

A night out drinking with friends leads to a fateful–yet awkwardly-sloppy–kiss between her and her best friend George Bratton.

George has been single and pining for his ex-girlfriend ever since their breakup two years ago. When his ex invites him to her destination wedding in London, self-destructive George and gonorrhea survivor Laney make a deal to go as each other’s dates. It will make great material for Laney’s “Anti-Romance” blog and maybe it will help George finally get over his ex. Nothing could possibly go wrong, right?

This is a stand-alone novel.

Add it on Goodreads:
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/28260248-anti-romance

Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000038_00071]

Chapter One

ANTI-ROMANCE
CHAPTER 1 – EXCERPT

Copyright © 2016 by Cassia Leo.

The tip of his erection was pressed firmly against my opening, a rock hard promise of the pleasure to come. This was the way he loved to tease me, right after making me come with his masterful tongue. He knew I needed him inside me. Needed to feel his girth stretching me. Needed to feel the closeness of his sweat-dampened skin pressed against mine.
But he wasn’t going to give in so easily.
First he would draw out the anticipation, until I was begging for him to fuck me. He would kiss and caress my body until I was forced to beg for it, until I reached the point of no return, where even the slightest touch would set off a chain reaction inside my body; a domino effect of nerve endings firing through every inch of my body, cascading uncontrollably toward my center, concluding in a mind-numbing, thigh-quaking, chest-rattling climax. Then, and only then, did he plunge into me with the force of an armada crashing upon the shores, ready to plunder the land for all its riches. I, the willingly-pillaged maiden, could only cry out in unbridled ecstasy as he took everything I had. Every moan. Every scream. Every drop of passion coursing through me.
When he finished inside me, his dying erection still twitching in its final death throes, he draped his body over mine as I lay back across the hood of his BMW. Mouth slightly hung open, his breathing heavy on my damp skin as his lips pressed against my neck. Each breath he exhaled sent a gentle shiver coursing through me; goosebumps sprouted over my skin as he lightly stroked my outer thigh with the backs of his fingers.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he murmured in my ear.
Though Rick had said these words a thousand times since we began dating two months ago, I still reminded myself not to believe them. I wasn’t gorgeous—not by his standards or anyone else’s. Maybe I could be described as “cute…if she lost a few pounds, got lip injections, and used a curling iron on those limp locks every once in a while.” No one—other than Rick—had ever called me, Laney Hill, gorgeous.
But what I lacked in the looks department, I more than made up for with a firm grip and a “fiery spirit,” as my former women’s studies professor used to call it; or, as my best friend liked to call it these days, my “unbridled cynicism.”
My best friend, George Bratton, was a serial monogamist and—God help him—a hopeless romantic. His shortest romantic relationship lasted more than a year. My longest relationship lasted ten months, and that ended a few years ago when I decided to change careers. Since then, I’d plowed through more men than Al Capone’s Tommy gun.
Of course, most of my romantic misadventures had been undertaken in the name of research for my blog, lovingly named Anti-Romance: The seedy parlor where romance goes to get a happy-ending before it dies. At least, this is what I had convinced myself of. I only entered dead-end relationships for my job. It certainly wasn’t because I was screwed up in any way. Nope. Not me. I was just an artist willing to live my art. I entertained the world—well, my 257,000 subscribers—with my cocked-up love life. I was the canvas and my choice of medium was unavailable men.
“I guess I’ll talk to you tomorrow after the rally?” I asked the question in a breathy murmur, trying to make my minuscule request sound even less demanding.
He blew out a deep breath as he stood straighter. “I can’t. I’ll be flying to D.C. to play preschool teacher to some women’s rights groups. I have to coordinate the announcement of their endorsements on social media. I’ll call you to set something up when I get back.”
I forced a smile as his green eyes locked on mine. “Of course. If you need any help,” I replied, tracing the tip of my tongue along his sharp jawline, savoring the salt of his efforts, “I’m great at kissing up to disillusioned constituents.”
He chuckled heartily as he pulled away and reached for his waistline to button his slacks. “As much as I appreciate the offer, I think the candidate would rather I tackle this alone.”
The candidate.
Three months into our smoldering farce of a courtship and Rick still felt the need to call Senator John Grossman—the Republican presidential candidate he worked for—“the candidate.” As if I were too stupid to know he was referring to Senator Grossman.
I may not have graduated from Harvard, but I was not stupid.
In fact, I graduated in the top two percent of my class with a degree in psychology and a minor in women’s studies. Our country, on the other hand, was circling the Idiocracy drain. As evidenced by the untethered enthusiasm for reality TV—and, in my case, reality blogs—it was only a matter of time before we Americans would go sliding down a sludge-filled drainpipe and end up sloshing around the intellectual sewer system. The way I saw it, if our ship was going down, I wanted to go down in a yacht, not a life raft.
I adjusted the crotch of my panties, all the while ignoring the burning itch that always followed rough sex with Rick. Though, it did seem to be getting worse lately. Must be a slight feminine “imbalance.” Nothing a little over-the-counter ointment wouldn’t fix.
I smoothed down the skirt of my dress as Rick pulled up the zipper on his trousers. He wore that sly grin that communicated one of the following: a) He could go for another round, or b) He was quite pleased that he had conquered me in yet another public forum. The first time we had sex in public was on my third day working undercover in Grossman’s Austin headquarters.
I thought seducing a Republican would make a great story for my blog followers. Rick thought having sex on his desk would be a great stress reliever. I knew we would make a great team.
Actually, Rick was the first guy I’d considered letting in on my secret. Since I started my Anti-Romance blog four years ago, I’d told zero men that our relationship would be used for entertainment. Online, I went by the pseudonym Amber F. Thus far, none of my male companions had linked me to Amber. But Rick and I had been working together and fucking each other for almost three months. Somehow, this felt different.
And, technically, I hadn’t written about Rick on the blog yet. I usually journaled about my relationships in a private app on my computer until we broke up. Then I’d go back and embellish my journal entries wherever necessary and upload each entry to the blog. My followers didn’t know if my dating life was happening in real time or past tense. Part of me did this because I was fastidious about never publishing a first draft, even if it was a first draft of a real life event. Another part of me hoped that when I found the right guy, my followers would never know anything about him, because our relationship would never end so I’d never have the opportunity to blog about it.
Stranger things had happened.
The look in Rick’s green eyes was breaking me down brick by brick. I felt myself blushing from the top of my head to my nether regions. I had to tell him about the blog.
He reached up and cupped my face, his thumb gently stroking my cheek. “I can’t wait until the primaries are over and I can take you away with me for a few days.” He brushed his lips over mine and the pulsing ache between my legs returned, which only accentuated the burning itch. “Where do you want me to fuck you next? Under a waterfall in Hawaii? In front of the Eiffel Tower in Paris?”
“Benghazi!” I blurted out and his face hardened as he pulled away. I delivered a playful shove to his solid chest. “I’m kidding. Paris sounds magnifique.”
The sound of a car door opening startled us both. I whipped my head around to find my young and surly-in-a-hot-way neighbor stepping out of his pickup truck, which was parked right next to Rick’s BMW.
He was sitting in his truck this whole time?
My face flushed with heat as my neighbor attempted to keep his head down while passing us, but he couldn’t hide his smirk. Oh. My. God. The poor guy was trapped in his car this whole time because he was too afraid to disturb our public fuck-session.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured as he passed.
His head twitched in my direction, but he didn’t dare make eye contact. “No worries, ma’am,” he muttered as he continued toward our apartment complex.
It was about 60 degrees in January, but I could swear it was summer in Austin as a searing warmth crept up my cheeks.

About Cassia:
Cassia Leo Bio Pic

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Cassia Leo loves her coffee, chocolate, and margaritas with salt. When she’s not writing, she spends way too much time watching old reruns of Friends and Sex and the City. When she’s not watching reruns, she’s usually walking in the rain or reading.

Come chat with her on
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/authorcassialeo
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/AuthorCassiaLeo
You can also follow her blog at http://cassialeo.com

Blogger HTML:
We’re excited to share the cover and first chapter of Cassia Leo’s upcoming release, Anti-Romance, with you today! Anti-Romance is NOT a romance. This is a hilariously screwed-up stand-alone novel love story. This is a book you’ll definitely want to grab in paperback; the cover will be completely colorable!

About Anti-Romance:

Laney Hill is screwed. On the bed. On the treadmill. On the hood of a BMW. And on her boss’s desk. Then she’s screwed again when she steps into the free clinic and finds out she has gonorrhea. That dirty prick gave her gonorrhea! She’s totally going to break up with him…until he breaks up with her…because he’s married!

A night out drinking with friends leads to a fateful–yet awkwardly-sloppy–kiss between her and her best friend George Bratton.

George has been single and pining for his ex-girlfriend ever since their breakup two years ago. When his ex invites him to her destination wedding in London, self-destructive George and gonorrhea survivor Laney make a deal to go as each other’s dates. It will make great material for Laney’s “Anti-Romance” blog and maybe it will help George finally get over his ex. Nothing could possibly go wrong, right?

This is a stand-alone novel.

Add it on Goodreads:
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/28260248-anti-romance

ANTI-ROMANCE
CHAPTER 1 – EXCERPT

Copyright © 2016 by Cassia Leo.

The tip of his erection was pressed firmly against my opening, a rock hard promise of the pleasure to come. This was the way he loved to tease me, right after making me come with his masterful tongue. He knew I needed him inside me. Needed to feel his girth stretching me. Needed to feel the closeness of his sweat-dampened skin pressed against mine.
But he wasn’t going to give in so easily.
First he would draw out the anticipation, until I was begging for him to fuck me. He would kiss and caress my body until I was forced to beg for it, until I reached the point of no return, where even the slightest touch would set off a chain reaction inside my body; a domino effect of nerve endings firing through every inch of my body, cascading uncontrollably toward my center, concluding in a mind-numbing, thigh-quaking, chest-rattling climax. Then, and only then, did he plunge into me with the force of an armada crashing upon the shores, ready to plunder the land for all its riches. I, the willingly-pillaged maiden, could only cry out in unbridled ecstasy as he took everything I had. Every moan. Every scream. Every drop of passion coursing through me.
When he finished inside me, his dying erection still twitching in its final death throes, he draped his body over mine as I lay back across the hood of his BMW. Mouth slightly hung open, his breathing heavy on my damp skin as his lips pressed against my neck. Each breath he exhaled sent a gentle shiver coursing through me; goosebumps sprouted over my skin as he lightly stroked my outer thigh with the backs of his fingers.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he murmured in my ear.
Though Rick had said these words a thousand times since we began dating two months ago, I still reminded myself not to believe them. I wasn’t gorgeous—not by his standards or anyone else’s. Maybe I could be described as “cute…if she lost a few pounds, got lip injections, and used a curling iron on those limp locks every once in a while.” No one—other than Rick—had ever called me, Laney Hill, gorgeous.
But what I lacked in the looks department, I more than made up for with a firm grip and a “fiery spirit,” as my former women’s studies professor used to call it; or, as my best friend liked to call it these days, my “unbridled cynicism.”
My best friend, George Bratton, was a serial monogamist and—God help him—a hopeless romantic. His shortest romantic relationship lasted more than a year. My longest relationship lasted ten months, and that ended a few years ago when I decided to change careers. Since then, I’d plowed through more men than Al Capone’s Tommy gun.
Of course, most of my romantic misadventures had been undertaken in the name of research for my blog, lovingly named Anti-Romance: The seedy parlor where romance goes to get a happy-ending before it dies. At least, this is what I had convinced myself of. I only entered dead-end relationships for my job. It certainly wasn’t because I was screwed up in any way. Nope. Not me. I was just an artist willing to live my art. I entertained the world—well, my 257,000 subscribers—with my cocked-up love life. I was the canvas and my choice of medium was unavailable men.
“I guess I’ll talk to you tomorrow after the rally?” I asked the question in a breathy murmur, trying to make my minuscule request sound even less demanding.
He blew out a deep breath as he stood straighter. “I can’t. I’ll be flying to D.C. to play preschool teacher to some women’s rights groups. I have to coordinate the announcement of their endorsements on social media. I’ll call you to set something up when I get back.”
I forced a smile as his green eyes locked on mine. “Of course. If you need any help,” I replied, tracing the tip of my tongue along his sharp jawline, savoring the salt of his efforts, “I’m great at kissing up to disillusioned constituents.”
He chuckled heartily as he pulled away and reached for his waistline to button his slacks. “As much as I appreciate the offer, I think the candidate would rather I tackle this alone.”
The candidate.
Three months into our smoldering farce of a courtship and Rick still felt the need to call Senator John Grossman—the Republican presidential candidate he worked for—“the candidate.” As if I were too stupid to know he was referring to Senator Grossman.
I may not have graduated from Harvard, but I was not stupid.
In fact, I graduated in the top two percent of my class with a degree in psychology and a minor in women’s studies. Our country, on the other hand, was circling the Idiocracy drain. As evidenced by the untethered enthusiasm for reality TV—and, in my case, reality blogs—it was only a matter of time before we Americans would go sliding down a sludge-filled drainpipe and end up sloshing around the intellectual sewer system. The way I saw it, if our ship was going down, I wanted to go down in a yacht, not a life raft.
I adjusted the crotch of my panties, all the while ignoring the burning itch that always followed rough sex with Rick. Though, it did seem to be getting worse lately. Must be a slight feminine “imbalance.” Nothing a little over-the-counter ointment wouldn’t fix.
I smoothed down the skirt of my dress as Rick pulled up the zipper on his trousers. He wore that sly grin that communicated one of the following: a) He could go for another round, or b) He was quite pleased that he had conquered me in yet another public forum. The first time we had sex in public was on my third day working undercover in Grossman’s Austin headquarters.
I thought seducing a Republican would make a great story for my blog followers. Rick thought having sex on his desk would be a great stress reliever. I knew we would make a great team.
Actually, Rick was the first guy I’d considered letting in on my secret. Since I started my Anti-Romance blog four years ago, I’d told zero men that our relationship would be used for entertainment. Online, I went by the pseudonym Amber F. Thus far, none of my male companions had linked me to Amber. But Rick and I had been working together and fucking each other for almost three months. Somehow, this felt different.
And, technically, I hadn’t written about Rick on the blog yet. I usually journaled about my relationships in a private app on my computer until we broke up. Then I’d go back and embellish my journal entries wherever necessary and upload each entry to the blog. My followers didn’t know if my dating life was happening in real time or past tense. Part of me did this because I was fastidious about never publishing a first draft, even if it was a first draft of a real life event. Another part of me hoped that when I found the right guy, my followers would never know anything about him, because our relationship would never end so I’d never have the opportunity to blog about it.
Stranger things had happened.
The look in Rick’s green eyes was breaking me down brick by brick. I felt myself blushing from the top of my head to my nether regions. I had to tell him about the blog.
He reached up and cupped my face, his thumb gently stroking my cheek. “I can’t wait until the primaries are over and I can take you away with me for a few days.” He brushed his lips over mine and the pulsing ache between my legs returned, which only accentuated the burning itch. “Where do you want me to fuck you next? Under a waterfall in Hawaii? In front of the Eiffel Tower in Paris?”
“Benghazi!” I blurted out and his face hardened as he pulled away. I delivered a playful shove to his solid chest. “I’m kidding. Paris sounds magnifique.”
The sound of a car door opening startled us both. I whipped my head around to find my young and surly-in-a-hot-way neighbor stepping out of his pickup truck, which was parked right next to Rick’s BMW.
He was sitting in his truck this whole time?
My face flushed with heat as my neighbor attempted to keep his head down while passing us, but he couldn’t hide his smirk. Oh. My. God. The poor guy was trapped in his car this whole time because he was too afraid to disturb our public fuck-session.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured as he passed.
His head twitched in my direction, but he didn’t dare make eye contact. “No worries, ma’am,” he muttered as he continued toward our apartment complex.
It was about 60 degrees in January, but I could swear it was summer in Austin as a searing warmth crept up my cheeks.

About Cassia:

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Cassia Leo loves her coffee, chocolate, and margaritas with salt. When she’s not writing, she spends way too much time watching old reruns of Friends and Sex and the City. When she’s not watching reruns, she’s usually walking in the rain or reading.

Come chat with her on
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/authorcassialeo
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/AuthorCassiaLeo
You can also follow her blog at http://cassialeo.com.

Review: Chasing Abby by Cassia Leo- Shattered Hearts Series- Book 4

Chasing Abby

Chasing Abby

Shattered Heart Series- Book 4

By Cassia Leo

2cb3f-add-to-goodreads-button

Synopsis

The heart-stopping conclusion to the New York Times and USA Today bestselling Shattered Hearts series.

 

Five years, six months, eight days…

 

It’s been eighteen years since Abigail was born with a hole in her heart. Five years since she collapsed on the soccer field. Five years, six months, eight days since she found out she was adopted.

Abby has spent five years wondering about the family she never knew and waiting for her eighteenth birthday.When Abby shows up on the doorstep of Chris and Claire Knight, her birth parents are overjoyed to see the little girl they lost eighteen years ago.

One summer is all they have to make up for the years they lost. But a summer of love soon turns into a summer of heartache.

Buy: Amazon / Barnes and Noble / ITunes

6 star

2014 FavoriteMichel’s Review

Chasing Abby is the conclusion to the highly acclaimed Shattered Hearts series by Cassia Leo.  Readers have been waiting for this book since the series began.

Chris and Claire Knight have waited eighteen years for this moment.  The moment to meet the daughter they gave up for adoption because of their mistakes in their youth.  The regret has weighed on their souls for the last eighteen years.  They have moved on in life and made a beautiful family.  They have become huge successes in their careers.  They have become parents of three more children.  The one thing missing in their lives has been their first born child, Abby.

Abby has had a loving life with her adoptive parents.  Although she has had a happy life, her life experiences have been very limited and controlled because of her severe heart condition.  Her health issues have caused her adoptive parents to become obsessively over protective of her. They have kept her adoption a secret all her life.  When a life threatening hospital stay reveals the truth about her adoption, she will have to wait until her eighteenth birthday to find out who her real birth parents are.

Her life in general has been very happy.  Her adoptive parents love her.  She has great friends.  She even has a phenomenal boyfriend, Caleb Everett, that whole heartedly supports her and takes great care ensuring her good health and happiness.

The moment she has waited for is finally here.  Through years of pictures in a bank safety deposit box, Abby finally finds out who her biological parents are.  She is stunned.  Through Caleb’s support and encouragement she finally gets up the nerve to meet them face to face.

The reunion is emotional on so many levels.  Chris and Claire are finally meeting their long lost daughter.  Their fears of acceptance are heartfelt.  Their joy of finally being able to openly love their child is exalting.  Now they want Abby to become part of their family.  They want her to get to know her two brothers and sister.  They want her in their lives.  But with Abby’s serious health issues their future is not guaranteed.  Time isn’t on their side.

They have one summer to love and become the family they always wanted to be.  It will be a summer filled with wonder and hope.  It will also be a summer of adjustment, building relationships, dealing with sibling rivalry, and facing shattering heartbreak.

This book had me an emotional wreck.  When I finished this book I was sitting in a pile of kleenex.  It is one of the best UGLY cries I have had.  I felt every emotion each of these characters felt.  I was proud of the kind of woman Abby turned out to be.  I was elated for Chris and Claire to finally mend the hole in their hearts they had for eighteen years.  I broke right along with Abby when her heart took away the very life of her soul. This book has the same kind of emotional impact as Fault In Our Stars did.

Cassia Leo did a magnificent job with this book.  Everything about this book was complete perfection.  Read the Shattered Hearts series.

This is the last published book from Cassia Leo.  This book will be her blaze of glory.

Cassia will continue writing under a new pen name.  I look forward to her new direction and new persona.  I want to thank her for giving the readers so many fabulous books.

Author Bio:

Cassia LeoNew York Times and USA Today bestselling author Cassia Leo grew up in California and has lived in three different countries. She loves to travel and her dream is to one day score a record deal based on her awesome shower singing skills. She is the author of the Shattered Hearts series (Relentless, Pieces of You, Bring Me Home). She is also the author of the popular Luke and Chase series.