Lee Ryder's Blog, page 37
July 8, 2014
Release Day Wyatt's War
Today is release day for WYATT'S WAR, the first book in my military romance series HEARTS & HEROES. Hot military hero, romantic suspense, spitfire heroine in San Antonio,TX.
WYATT'S WAR
by Myla JacksonJuly 8, 2014 ReleaseOrder Now: Samhain Publishing | Amazon Kindle | Nook | Kobo Scroll down to read Excerpt

Hearts & Heroes, Book 1 After a particularly difficult operation in Somalia, Master Sergeant Wyatt Magnus is stuck with “light” duty providing anti-terrorist security for delegates at the International Trade Convention in San Antonio.
As he settles in for what he expects will be an easy assignment, he discovers he’s got a whole new kind of battle on his hands with the convention’s director, a tightly packaged, five-foot-nothing, sexy piece of work with an iron fist.
Under pressure to bring foreign dignitaries to the River Walk without a hitch, Fiona Allen doesn’t have time to babysit a Special Forces grunt with a superiority complex. Even if just looking at him makes her mouth water.
When a hotel snafu lands them in the same room, at first she’s steaming mad. Then burning up in smoking-hot desire. But even as she tells herself he’s a one-time ride, trouble is brewing behind the scenes. The kind of trouble with a vendetta—and a detonator.
Warning: Contains one hot hero with a gift for strategic placement of his hands, one fiery redhead who’d like to make a career out of exploring every rippling muscle, and one hotel room that’s about to see some serious action. Fire extinguisher recommended.
For more information:To learn more about Myla Jackson visit her website at http://www.mylajackson.com. Or join her newsletter to enter in the fun with other readers:MylaJackson_Newsletter@yahoogroups.com
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ExcerptChapter One
Sergeant Major Wyatt Magnus pushed past the pain in his knee, forcing himself to finish a three-mile run in the sticky heat of south Texas. Thankfully his ribs had healed and his broken fingers had mended enough he could pull the trigger again. He didn’t anticipate needing to use the nine-millimeter Beretta tucked beneath his fluorescent vest. San Antonio wasn’t what he’d call a hot zone. Not like Somalia, his last real assignment.
It wouldn’t be long before his commander saw he was fit for combat duty, not playing the role of a babysitter for fat tourists, politicians and businessmen visiting the Alamo and stuffing themselves on Tex-Mex food while pretending to attend an International Trade Convention.
The scents of fajitas and salsa filled the air, accompanied by the happy cadence of a mariachi band. Twinkle lights lit the trees along the downtown River Walk as he completed his run around the San Antonio Convention Center and started back to his hotel. Neither the food, nor the music lightened his spirits.
Since being medevaced out of Somalia to San Antonio Medical Center, the combined armed forces’ medical facility, he’d been chomping at the bit to get back to where the action was. But for some damn reason, his commander and the psych evaluator thought he needed to cool his heels a little longer and get his head on straight before he went back into the more volatile situations.
So what? He’d been captured and tortured by Somali militants. If he hadn’t been so trusting of the men he’d been sent to train in combat techniques, he might have picked up on the signs. Staff Sergeant Dane might not be dead and Wyatt wouldn’t have spent three of the worst weeks of his life held captive. He’d been tortured: nine fingers, four ribs and one kneecap broken and had been beaten to within an inch of his life. All his training, his experience in the field, the culture briefings and in-country observations hadn’t prepared him for complete betrayal by the very people he had been sent there to help.
He understood why the Somali armed forces had turned him over to the residual al-Shabab militants that were attempting a comeback after being ousted from the capital, Mogadishu. He might have done the same if his family had been kidnapped and threatened with torture and beheading if he didn’t hand over the foreigners.
No, he’d have found a better way to deal with the terrorists. A way that involved very painful deaths. His breathing grew shallower and the beginning of a panic attack snuck up on him like a freight train.
Focus. The psych doc had given him methods to cope with the onset of anxiety that made him feel like he was having a heart attack. He had to focus to get his mind out of Somalia and torture and back to San Antonio and the River Walk.Ahead he spied the pert twitch of a female butt encased in hot pink running shorts and a neon green tank top. Her ass was as far from the dry terrain of Somalia as a guy could get. Wyatt focused on her and her tight buttocks, picking up the pace to catch up. She was a pretty young woman with an MP3 device strapped to her arm with wires leading to the earbuds in her ears. Her dark red hair pulled back in a loose ponytail bounced with every step. Running in the zone, she seemed to ignore everything around but the path in front of her.
Once he caught up, Wyatt slowed to her pace, falling in behind. His heart rate slowed, returning to normal, his breathing regular and steady. Panic attack averted, he felt more normal, in control and aware of the time. As much as he liked following the pretty woman with the pink ass and the dark red, bobbing ponytail, he needed to get back and shower before he met the coordinator of the International Trade Convention.
Wyatt lengthened his stride and passed the woman, thankful that simply by jogging ahead of him, she’d brought him back to the present and out of a near clash with the crippling anxiety he refused to let get the better of him.As he put distance between him and the woman in pink, he passed the shadow of a building. A movement out of the corner of his eye made him spin around. He jogged in a circle, his pulse ratcheting up, his body ready, instincts on high alert. The scuffle of feet made him circle again and stop. He crouched in a fighting stance and faced the threat, the memory of his abduction exploding in his mind, slamming him back to Somalia, back to the dry terrain of Africa and the twenty rebels who’d jumped him and Dane when they’d been leading a training exercise in the bush.
Instead of Somali militants garbed in camouflage and turbans, a small child darted out of his parents’ reach and ran past Wyatt, headed toward the edge of the river.
His mother screamed, “Johnnie, stop!”
By the time Wyatt grasped that the child wasn’t an al-Shabab fighter, the kid had nearly reached the edge.
Published on July 08, 2014 07:15
The Labyrinth Wall .99 Sale



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Published on July 08, 2014 00:00
July 6, 2014
Long ago, the planet Zebunon III was a very different pla...

When six-year-old Amadeus runs away from home, he doesn't know that he's running toward something. But before long, he finds himself in a sequence of events over which he has no control. He sees his mother alone with a stranger. Amadeus is caught by slave traders. And a mysterious blue dragon keeps showing up in his dreams.
Will Amadeus discover the meaning of these events? And is he bound to be enslaved forever? In time, he'll find the twists and turns his life takes may be leading toward an ultimate destiny.


Stalker links:
Author Blog
http://heatherkennison.blogspot.com/Author Facebook
https://www.facebook.com/people/Author-Heather-Kennison/100006233925637 (friend page)
https://www.facebook.com/kennisonbooks?ref=stream (fan page)
Hope to see you all there!!

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Published on July 06, 2014 21:25
Jaded cover reveal by Michele Bellon


Coming Soon July 2014!



Published on July 06, 2014 21:19
July 4, 2014
.99 on Broken Earth and Shattered Hearts!

Amazon : Broken Earth: http://www.amazon.com/Broken-Earth-Lee-Ryder-ebook/dp/B00GDPOY5I/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1404512951&sr=8-2&keywords=Broken+Earth
Shattered Hearts: http://www.amazon.com/Shattered-Hearts-Broken-Book-2-ebook/dp/B00IGVAC44/ref=la_B00GER96DK_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1404512988&sr=1-2
Published on July 04, 2014 16:07
July 1, 2014
What happens when the heart and soul divides?Chosen by th...

Grab yours on Amazon today!!


She is currently working on Beyond the Brothel Walls #2: Altered. This post-apocalyptic, erotic paranormal romance is emotionally driven, dark fantasy.
Hope to see you all there!!

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Published on July 01, 2014 16:36
June 23, 2014
Lexi Crandall’s world is turned upside down her junior ye...

Buy the book! Amazon ~ KOBO
About Lisa
Lisa lives in SUNNY SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA with her wonderful husband and two teenage children.
Lisa lives in Sunny Southern California and has all her life. Her husband is a high school PE teacher and coaches three different high school sports.
With two kids in high school and involved in activities both in and out of school, she has a lot to juggle. When home, she locks herself inside the
office to write. She's always loved to write, but life always seemed to be too busy. When inspiration finally hit, she made the most of the time
her husband and kids were busy and published her first book in February 2014. It's a teen/young adult book and the first in a series.
She's just released her first book in her New Adult/Contemporary Romance series. She is hoping to get two more books out before the
end of 2014.
Published on June 23, 2014 00:13
June 13, 2014
“Emma stuck her face to the window to watch the rain. Lig...

Emma Willis is ten years old and has a secret. She not only inherited her grandmother's power of sight, she can accomplish much more. Like most children without siblings growing up amongst adults, she is precocious yet at times lonely.
When a murderer is loose in Newark, a maniac with a thirst for killing little girls, she begins to understand why her Granny Dottie called her sight a curse. She will need all her powers to catch a killer and help the people in her life: Detective Hank Apple, her teacher Christina Tyler, and her little family of three. Only … the madman knows who she is!
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Join the amazing event!!

About Joss Landry:
Joss has worked as a consultant for more than twenty years, writing copy for marketing firms and assisting start-up companies launch their business. She recently made the switch from composing copy and promos, to writing fiction and prose. She is developing her style through courses and the support of other writers. She is a member of the Romance Writers of America and is presently working on honing three other novels for publication.Blessed with four children and five grandchildren, she resides in Montreal with her husband, a staunch supporter, and enjoys spending time biking, rollerblading, playing tennis, and swimming. She loves creating stories as she says they fulfill her need to think outside the box.
Stalker links:
W.http://www.josslandry.comBook: Mirror Deep http://tinyurl.com/cdv37n6FB: http://www.facebook.com/josslandryTW: http://www.twitter.com/josslandry
LinkedIn: http://www.linkedin.com/pub/joss-landry/39/485/121
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/goodreadscomjosslandry
Hope to see you all there!!

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Published on June 13, 2014 00:00
May 29, 2014
Stronger by Becki Brannen

Hayley Cross has decided she’s not going down without a fight.
Wes Thornton was the heartthrob in high school, and is now the trainer at the local gym.
Can he help save Hayley, or is it already too late?
http://www.amazon.com/Stronger-Becki-Brannen-ebook/dp/B00KI4ZCT2/http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/stronger-becki-brannen/1119586500?ean=2940149442355https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22293144

Chapter One:
“I need you to train me,” I tell the guy at the counter of Attack MMA, secretly hoping he doesn’t remember me from high school. Wes Thornton was the quintessential jock in high school, and it doesn’t look like much has changed. He could have anyone he wanted... and he didn’t want me. I was three years younger, just a freshman when he was in his senior year, and I was a total nerd. As a senior, I took Calculus – for fun.
Fast forward a few years later, and I’ve walked into the gym he works at, having looked him up on Facebook a few years ago. I was too scared to press the button to request a friendship, but I’m standing here in front of him now, holding my head high.
Now he’s staring me down, as if he’s trying to figure out what in the heck I’m doing here. I’m still a nerd, glasses and all, but I’ve grown up in a lot of ways. I’ve gained a lot of self-confidence, including the ability to talk to boys (finally!) and overall, my life is pretty good. Well, with the exception of Johnny. But, that’s why I’m here, I guess.
“Sure, what were you interested in? We don’t offer Zumba here,” he says, laughing. I get angry, clenching my fists, and narrow my gaze.
“I’m not interested in dancing. I want you to train me.”
“What’s your name?” So he doesn’t remember me. Half-relieved and half-offended, I tell him, “Hayley Cross.”
He looks me in the eyes and, seeing the fire in them, he nods. “Okay, Hayley Cross, we start now.”
I gulp, terrified. I’m not entirely inactive, but I’m nowhere in the kind of shape as the others in the gym. I fill out some forms, hand over my identification and credit card, and swallow hard as I sign on the dotted line.
He gets some gear from a friend of his and tosses it at me, ordering me to go change. I head into the women’s locker room and pull on the miniscule booty shorts and sports bra before looking around for the shirt. I poke my head out.
“Umm, Wes? I don’t have a shirt? And these shorts...” I cringe.
“Shirt will just get in the way. Get out here.”
I pull my hair into a ponytail and re-tie my cross trainers. I step outside, self-consciously tugging the shorts down over my behind. At least wedgies aren’t sexy, right?
“Good. Come with me.” He leads me to a small room with a scale and desk. Oh, crap.
Once we’re inside the room with the door closed, he orders me onto the scale.
“One thirty. Not bad. But you’re soft. We’ll fix that.” He makes notes on my chart, as if he’s some sort of doctor. A very scary, bossy doctor.
He looks me over, taking in every bruise, some faded, some fresh. His jaw clenches and he makes a note, not saying a word. Finally, he opens the door and leads me to an open mat.
“We’re going to start with stretches. And I’m telling you right now, ‘I can’t’ is not in your vocabulary. Every fiber of your being is going to say you’re finished, but you won’t be, not by a long shot. If you say it, you’re gone? Got it?”
I nod, not trusting my words. At this point, I don’t know if I’d merely squeak like a mouse or let loose a string of profanities.
He leads me through a series of stretches before making a few notes.
“Okay, three laps around the gym,” he barks. I nod and take off, running as quickly as I can and still unable to keep up with him. My calves ache and my lungs burn, but I finish. Granted, the last half lap was more of a fast walk, but whatever. Wes is kind enough not to bark at me again, instead coming up beside me and encouraging me as I finish.
“Good. Fifty jumping jacks, fifty squats, fifty crunches.” He looks at his watch, making notes of how long it takes me to complete each task.
When I’m done, I stand back up, looking at him both in defiance and fear.
“Another run, three laps,” he says. I grab a swig of water before he can tell me otherwise and then take off, pacing myself this time.
“Control your breathing. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Keep it even,” he says, jogging beside me.
“I’m pretty sure I hate you,” I tell him through clenched teeth, but I do as he says, finishing the third lap at a faster pace than the previous run.
When we’re done with the run, he gives me a minute to catch my breath, eyeing my bruises once again.
“Need to talk about those?” he asks.
“Door,” I reply. Isn’t that the standard answer in this sort of situation? The old ‘I ran into the door’ excuse? Then again, most doors don’t aim for your midsection, but at this point, that’s just semantics.
“Uh-huh. So this door wears a class ring?” I duck my head, refusing to answer. I didn’t come here for a lecture or pity. I came to get stronger.
I do another set of exercises like before, my muscles protesting the sudden exertion after years of dormancy.
“Grab some gloves. You’re going to learn kickboxing,” Wes calls out as I lie on the mat, spent.
“I thought that was the workout and I was done,” I complain, looking around for a clock.
“That,” he says, laughing, “was the warm-up. Gloves. Now!”
I scramble to my feet, grabbing a pair of sweaty, smelly gloves off of a shelf. Eww. I wrinkle my nose. I stick my hands in, cringing at the feel of years of layered sweat, hoping to God there isn’t someone else’s blood dried inside.
Wes grabs some pads and leads me through a series of punches.
“Okay, since you’re right-handed, your left is your ‘one’ punch, or jab. Stand with your left foot facing me and your right foot back and perpendicular, just off to the side so you have some stability. That’s your base. Your dominant hand is your ‘two’ punch, or cross. Keep your gloves up next to your face, and throw a ‘one-two,’ rotating your right hip a bit on the ‘two’ punch.”
I follow his directions, feeling like a complete fool as several guys stop and watch me throw two weak punches.
“Good. Now harder. You’re not going to hurt me. Hit me.” I throw the punches in quick succession as he brings the pads up to block. With each, I grunt, furrowing my brow as I let loose the torrent of pent-up aggression I’ve felt over the last few years.
“Great. Don’t forget to keep your hands up, and bring your left back before you throw your cross. But good job,” Wes tells me.
He goes to take off the pads, but I don’t stop. I throw punch after punch, until he finally pushes my hands down with the pads. Noticing my glistening eyes, he tells me to run a few laps to cool down. Not bothering to remove my gloves, I take off, running faster than my first run, my adrenaline carrying me through the three laps. When I finish, I fall to my knees, my head on my gloves as sobs wrack my body.
“Shower, Hayley. You’re all done for today,” Wes says quietly, pulling me to my feet.
Inside the locker room, I stand under the cool spray as the water kneads the tension from my shoulders. Briny tears fall to mingle with the shampoo suds that pour down my body. When the tears no longer come, I pull my towel from the stall door and wrap it around my body. Cocooned in its warmth, I dry myself before putting my own clothes back on and going home.

Becki Brannen was born and raised in the South. She married her high school sweetheart and they have two daughters and a poodle, Sophie. She enjoys writing 'chick lit' with a Christian twist. Becki hopes that you enjoy reading her books in the Breathless series. While Peregrine is a definite departure, she still explores the characters' relationships with God. As for future books, there will be more to come soon!
Check Becki out at
www.facebook.com/beckibrannen.authorhttp://beckibrannen.weebly.combeckibrannen@gmail.comwww.twitter.com/beckibrannen
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Published on May 29, 2014 00:00
May 27, 2014
Becoming Mrs. Rogers by Cindi Rogers

Cindi Rogers' first book, Becoming Mrs. Rogers is now available on Amazon.com at the link below. This book was a labor of love for Cindi, as well as her husband, Chris. The process has been a wonderful learning experience and going forward will continue to require more learning.
http://www.amazon.com/Becoming-Mrs-Rogers-Cindi/dp/1497373409/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1401153489&sr=8-1&keywords=Becoming+Mrs.+Rogers

Fragile X is a common and inherited cause of learning difficulties, affecting a child's entire world, including social and behavioral problems as well as cognition and speech. Rogers not only tells her story, but also gives advice for new parents, sharing facts about…
* the physical and behavioral characteristics of Fragile X
* the effects of Fragile X on learning, functioning and daily activities
* medication and therapy
* how fragile X affects the family.
Cindi Rogers and her husband, Chris, share the perspectives and tools they embraced in order to help their boys be as happy and independent as they can possibly be. It is a story of challenges, tears, joy and hope.
**A portion of the proceeds of this book are donated to the Rogers Neighborhood FX Family Fund which in turn offers scholarships to the NFXF International bi-yearly FX Conferences.**



Cindi is the mother of two sons, ages 23 and 25, who are affected with fragile X syndrome and autism. Since receiving this diagnosis, Cindi has become a leader and symbol of hope within the fragile X community. Her positive attitude, creativity and defining can-do attitude has inspired families and professionals worldwide. Cindi and her family have travelled to conferences around the world to present her innovative strategies, helping families not only to live with fragile X, but to also thrive. It has become her personal mission to share techniques to help families generate ideas that they can implement in their own world, while helping their children with fragile X syndrome to live happier, more independent lives. Today, Cindi serves on the board of directors for Developmental FX in Denver, a non-profit that helps families just like hers learn to thrive in the face of fragile X syndrome. She lives and works with her husband and two sons in Littleton, Colorado, and together they love travelling the U.S. in their RV named Rocket.

*I met this handsome guy in Mrs. Johnson's 7th grade French class. He courted me for 8 years and then we married. I'm pleased to say that through tears, joy and challenges we have endured 29 years of marriage. It hasn't always been "peaches & cream", but we've emerged as a strong, loving couple. I wouldn't have shared this fragile X journey with anyone else.*
Connect with Cindi:
Facebook- https://m.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1302335567
Twitter- @MrsRogers2014
Rogers Neighborhood FX Family Fund--http://www.rogersneighborhoodfxfamilyfund.com
Blog- http://welcometothefragilexneighborhood.blogspot.com/---On the blog find great website resources as well as bloggers to follow and enjoy!
Published on May 27, 2014 00:00