In case of emergency, delete my history by Rhonda Lee Carver

 

I'm sure you've heard the phrase, "If something happens to me, delete my browsing history." For most people, they're probably joking, but for a romance writer, we mean it. I've often wondered what someone would think if they saw my history: terrorists, guns, how to get away with murder, the best s$x position, conspiracy theories, and the list goes on. 

I was curious, what are the weirdest things people search on Google. (according to Jellyfish).

1. My cat wants to kill me
2.Who ate all the bananas and took a dump in the hallway
3.I accidentally killed my cat in the dryer
4.Are babies dishwasher safe
5.Is there a spell to become a mermaid
6.There is a deer in my car
7. Am I a vampire
8. Never put a wig on a dog
9.Germany is in what country
10. What to do if a dolphin wants to mate with me

Some of these are definitely creepy...

I had book released on 2/4/25. Have you grabbed your copy?

Sneak peek:

Buy here!

Up close, she was more stunning. A thin white scar along her left cheek made him curious about how she got it. If she had her scars, maybe she wouldn’t be so turned off by his. The story of that itty-bitty scar couldn’t compare to the baggage he carried.

“You’re missing out,” she said in a soft, semi-husky voice that lifted the hairs on his neck.

“Really?” He pushed away the remaining basket of fries and wiped his fingers off a napkin. “What am I missing?” He couldn’t stop staring at her sparkling eyes, reminding him of a clear blue sky on a pretty summer day. She had a scattering of light freckles across her nose and the tops of her cheeks, the same color as the bronzed highlights in her hair. And that smile…no doubt stole some hearts along the way.

He wondered how old she was? Thirty, maybe? Something about how she carried herself gave the impression that she could be older.

“The taste of that burger. It’s meant to be savored,” she said, showing off a row of pearly white teeth against her sun-bronzed skin. “You ate it in record time.”

“Anything that takes longer than ten minutes to eat is called fine dining, a luxury that I wouldn’t know much about.”

She leaned in slightly closer. “A burger and fries are considered fine dining around these parts.”

“Then pardon my bad manners, ma’am. How can I make it up to you? What are you drinking? It’s on me.”

“I’ll take my usual, Jenna,” she said to the bartender.

“You have a usual, so does that mean you hang out here often? Entertaining the crowd with your bull riding skills and dining etiquette tips.”

She looked at him while she tucked her bottom lip between her teeth. “You were watching, huh?”

“Who wasn’t?” He cocked a brow.

“I need to show these boys how bull riding is done.” She picked up her drink and slurped it up through the paper straw. “Sometimes they need a reminder that a woman can do anything a man can do, and most of the time better.” She twirled a long strand of her wavy hair around her finger.

“Oh, that statement does have its limitations, but I’m sure you’re right, mostly. These fellows won’t ever forget that you can ride a bull. I can damn well guarantee that.”

“I like to leave a lasting impression.” She locked her gaze with his.

He liked her confidence.

“Mission complete.”

Yeah, he most certainly wanted to learn more about this intriguing woman.

 

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Who is Joseph Wayne? by Rhonda Lee Carver

 

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Hi! I'm Joseph Wayne. I really don't like doing things like this but it's part of the role, huh? Let's see, I get asked a lot what it's like to be a popular country singer. I tend to think it's a lot like a lipstick-wearing pig walking down Main Street. Some think it's cute and some think it's ridiculous. It can go either way. My favorite things are ice cream, rides at sunset, putting the last few words on a new song, and most importantly, seeing Milly and my daughter, JoJo. Did y'all know that I recently found out that I have a daughter? If you want to know more you gotta read the book.  

I guess I should apologize to all the readers that were pissed off at me. Sure, I understand, but can you see why I left? Yeah...I know, I deserve your anger. But I get better. I do. This is why they say hindsight is 20/20.

Blurb:

The man. The legend. The cowboy. And the second chance.

He left her at the altar to pursue his dreams of becoming a country music star. Ten years later, he returns home and faces his high school sweetheart who has a child with his brother. Turns out, things might be a tad more complicated.

Dr. Milani Vance has stayed focused on raising her daughter and growing her career. Her past is in the rearview mirror until Joseph Wayne Mason strolls back into Whiskey Fork and sends her life into a vortex. And a need she'd buried a long, long time ago.

Joseph has it all. Career, money, freedom, and fans that adore him. What more could he want?

He’s about to find out because an old flame burns hotter and brighter. And he has a new title. "Daddy".

Joseph and Milani still love each other, but sometimes healing can take years. Will their daughter bring them back together? Or is a past that's riddled with pain better left hidden deep behind steel walls?

Connect with Rhonda Lee Carver

Facebook: www.facebook.com/rhondaleecarver.author/ Twitter: www.twitter.com/RLCarver Instagram: www.instagram.com/rhondaleecarver/

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And Along Came Ruby...How a Heroine Forced me to Tell Her Story by Rhonda Frankhouser

Hi Cowboy Kisses Family!!!! I'm still alive. Hope everyone is loving their 2022, so far!

Credit Depositphotos.com

I never thought of myself as a writer. Even my dad, God rest his sweet soul, said he never figured one of our family would ever go the literary way. He didn’t mean that in a negative way, I know. We were all more physically-inclined -sportsy even. Professional golfer maybe, but never a writer.

So, the fact that I couldn’t refuse Ruby’s advances proved I had not choice but to go the literary way.

When I started hearing Ruby’s running dialogue painting pictures of wide open spaces and complicated cowboys, I questioned if my personalities were beginning to split. Ruby was lost, and searching, haunted by the disappearance of her mother that happened almost two decades before. When she received the letter that her grandmother had died and left her Ruby’s Ranch, every sad and happy memory from her childhood came rushing back.

I’d never lived on a ranch, nor had I lost a parent, but this world being painted in my mind was as real as the one I’d grown up in. Once I gave in and started typing out the reality she was living, more and more of this amazing, fantasy world blossomed like a rose in spring. A tainted, screwed up, rose, but a rose all the same.

Copyright to owner

When Billy entered the story, I was interested but a little bit perturbed. I didn’t want her story to be about a cheesy love affair. I had to know what happened to her mother — and even more, I needed to know why my psyche would put such a dynamic, strong, woman though such heartache. Couldn’t she just focus on solving this and the other mysteries she encountered when she stepped on the porch at Ruby’s Ranch?

Why do we have to maneuver a love affair in the middle of the twisted reveal?

But Ruby was determined. She was going to make her grandmother proud and win the respect of the hands who didn’t know her from Adam. She would figure out why drove her grandmother crazy, even if it cost her Billy.

But Billy — what a delicious distraction. The boy next door who had loved her since they were children. Her best friend’s kid brother was all grown up now. He’d waited, patiently, for her return, only to have to wait even longer until she’d gotten the answers to all her questions.

---

That’s when things got weird. I wasn’t even sure where the words were coming from. I’d never had experiences that could possibly bring about the odd developments Ruby manifested in my mind.

---

Photo by Jonas Geschke on Unsplash

Copyright to author

As Ruby gathered the pieces to her broken family, she ran upon a circle hidden high on the mountain above Ruby’s Ranch. A place of pure calmness, and ageless history. A place no one at the ranch ever talked of. Had her mother somehow been swallowed up by this mysterious place? What the hell was it, anyway?

Where was it all coming from?

As Ruby peeled away the layers of deception, characters came into full view. Some good, some bad, all holding on to secrets. Mind you — I had zero idea where the story was going. I didn’t know if I was writing or channeling. It was a little disconcerting, but I couldn’t stop.

As it turns out, it wasn’t really Ruby whispering the story of these strong matriarchs who make up the bones of the Ruby’s Ranch Series. It was the legend talking to me. It was the thousand tiny pieces of the puzzle that forced me to assemble a story with uncharted twists and turns.

As I wrapped the first book, that inner voice forced me back to the keyboard. There was more to tell. Ruby had found most of her truth, but more questions came flooding out with every layer peeled back.

Once Ruby’s soul was calm, her mother Katherine started speaking to me. Once we understood exactly what to happened to Katherine, Granny Rube needed us to take her back to her childhood. A childhood like no other, and nothing that could be considered normal.

The women of Ruby’s Ranch, Rube, Katherine and Ruby, are all parts of a huge, untold mystery, only Emma can solve. Emma is speaking to me now. Stay tuned.

Thanks for listening,

Rhonda Frankhouser

Award Winning Author

You can check out all of Rhonda’s work @ www.rhondafrankhouserbooks.com

Telephone Game - A Post Worth Repeating!

 

Copyright Information

I published this a few years ago, and now as a new Grandma, and working full time, and just moving to a new home, I find this story is worth repeating. I hope you agree.

I truly hated doing research in college. Hours in a dusty library (remember those), looking for answers to someone else's boring questions. Very rarely did I happen on to anything that awakened my imagination. Yet I fumbled forward through bone dry historical texts, praying something poignant would pop out of a book so I could finally finish my report and join my friends at the university pub.
     It wasn't until I became a writer, much later in life, that I learned how interesting research could be. History is amazing. Every event that occurred before set in motion the cause and effect for our modern world. Everything we know, do, have, want, need, and hear has a history to tell. But here's where it gets a little curious. If we take the willy-nilly subjectivity of human nature and mix it with a little innocent exaggeration, how can we be so sure those recollections are the absolute truth?
     How could those well-intentioned historians remain unaffected by time and circumstance and possibly even social pressures the same as you and me? Even an innocent sugar-coating could skew the facts exponentially. What if we've not been given the actual truth but rather the 'opinion' of the author instead?
     One small example, the fairly well-known idiom, Circle the Wagons. My family used it often when I was a child and sometimes even now. If a loved one needed support or protection, we'd come together to help however we could. We'd Circle the Wagons. But several meanings have evolved since it was first coined in the 1800s.
     I always thought it referred to settlers on an old west wagon train who created a circle of protection from raiding marauders. But further research revealed another meaning. Circle the Wagons was the practice of settlers using a circle of wagons to corral their very expensive cattle. Hah? No way. How did that get so mixed up?
     So, I wondered, how do we know what is fact and what is fudged in all things historical? Does it matter if we've learned the complete truth? Or is it better to carry on the slightly watered-down or worse yet, overly dramatized, version for those who follow in our footsteps? Has the recollection of events evolved into something far from the truth as in the fun, yet revealing Telephone Game suggests?
     This is just me going off on a philosophical journey. It makes me thankful I write fiction, so if I miss a fact or two, I'll be okay. What are your thoughts?

Thanks for listening.
Rhonda Frankhouser
Award-Winning Contemporary and Western Romance Author

 

rhondafrankhouserbooks@gmail.com

rhondafrankhouserbooks.com

Amazon Page



Buckaroos in Paradise by Rhonda Frankhouser

Recently, the world lost one of the coolest cowboys to ever straddle a horse. His name, Victor Arriola. He lived a good long life, and had some amazing experiences through the nine plus decades he graced this earth.

I met Vic when I was a child, maybe 4 or 5. He was stocky in stature, quick with a smile and a laugh, but eerily calm in spirit. As a child I didn't understand how a persons childhood and young adulthood could shape the person, but I understood so much more about his quiet confidence after I learned about his past. 

Vic, a Spanish Basque descendant from Nevada, was a father, a husband and a wonderful provider. It was only when he climbed upon the meanest horse in our corral, did I realize, he had a sort of god-like quality atop an un-ride-able Appaloosa named Jobo. 

As a budding rider myself, I watched in awe as he used only his thighs to quiet the horse into gentle submission. I knew I was watching something impressive when I looked over at my slack-jawed father, who had worked himself into a tizzy trying to get that damn horse to even allow him onboard. 

We leaned against the cold, silver pipe fence surrounding that pen and took in the sight of this magnificent horse, now under Vic's uncanny spell. The massive hooves that I'd always worried would trample me to death one day, smooth-danced under the Vic's quiet command. With a litany of almost silent clicks, Vic commanded Jobo to move right, then left, then forward and back in unison. The horse's silky chestnut ears perked back toward his steady rider, ever listening and understanding. 

Now let me remind you, until that day, none of us had seen anyone stay in Jobo's saddle for more than a minute or two. But this man, not tall in stature, but steeped in confidence, somehow settled the horse's soul. His trust seemed complete within minutes. His bond instant.

When Vic swiftly dismounted the horse, and dropped to his booted feet, we all knew the truth.  He was some sort of magician. That horse was always meant to be his - not his slave - but his partner. My dad's words are as clear today as they were when Vic slipped through those silver rungs of that fence, "I guess he's yours now." Vic just smiled that easy smile, his chin scruffy after a long days work, his eyes sparkling with untold knowledge. "No Ron, he's just not interested in being mastered, but he is willing to show you respect, if you show him respect in return."

What I didn't know then is that our friend and neighbor, Victor Arriola, had an incredibly interesting past that he chose to keep to himself. Not a secretive, wicked kind of omission, more a non-braggy kind of omission. He'd been one of the original Buckaroos from Paradise Valley, Nevada. The real deal kind of cowboy -  or better known in the region - a Buckaroo - which is a name derived from the Spanish word Vaquero.  

Before he met and married the girl of his dreams, had two strapping sons and moved to Central California, he spent his days and nights working side by side with other ranch hands, driving herds of cattle over the vast open ranges of northern Nevada. It was of no great surprise that one of his particular specialties was horse training. Buckaroos counted on a trusted mount to carry them through their daily trials, and this man, this regular man turned supernatural being, was one of those people who understood how to create an everlasting bond between horse and rider.

As I've gone on and on about my personal experience witnessing horse-whispering greatness, I'll leave you with a link to learn more about the fascinating life and times of the Buckaroos of Paradise Valley. 

In the meantime, I'm beyond excited that I've found a passionate piece of history to use as fodder for my next Western Romance Series. I can't wait to get started.

Thank you, Victor Arriola, for sharing yourself with my family. You were a great and true friend and will be loved and missed always. 

Thanks for listening. 

Subscribe to RhondaFrankhouserBooks.com and receive a #Free copy of Return to Ruby's Ranch - Book 1 of the Award-Winning Ruby's Ranch Series

Cherish Your Cherished People by Rhonda Frankhouser

Hello fellow Cowboy Kisses members. I'm not writing today about sexy cowboys, interesting history or an upcoming new release. I'm sharing a little bit of my heart as it is currently in a broken state. Please indulge my need to share.

Photo Credit

It's easy to feel anger and sadness when you lose someone you love so dearly. For most, living a full and wholesome 78 years, is a true gift. To those left behind, doomed to live the rest of their lives without that loving presence, it's far too short.  

My family and I lost a true, honest and giving soul this past week. A god-fearing man who proudly served his country; gave of his time and heart to whomever needed him; and raised a beautiful family with his wife of over fifty years. He was a father who taught by example, how to be a good and loving human being. My father-in-law, Bill Frankhouser, Sr, was someone to emulate. Someone to value. Someone to remember. 

My husband, Bill Jr, with his father, Bill Sr. His best friend and hero, playing Pebble Beach!

* * *

This story is not so different than the thousands now being told in the wake of the pandemic. We are not more special than the next family who lost a loved one due to complications from CoVid 19, but for us, this is devastating, this loss is raw, and real, and has created pain that needs to be expelled from my soul.

I'm not going to preach to you about precautions and vaccines. My purpose is not to spew more frustration to an already frustrated society. My purpose is to call attention to this very important realization. Please, whatever you do, stop hating and blaming and start loving and living again. Time is running out for all of us. We will all lose someone, we will all die from something, someday. Stop wasting your time!

Please - take my advice - use your time to cherish.

You see, it's not the 'things' we miss about our loved ones when they're gone. It's the love and fullness that disappears with them when they leave us. It's the empty silence once filled with their laughter, that echoes against a broken heart. How will we ever survive without that unconditional love, wisdom, and sincere embrace when we need it most?

My message, should you choose to hear me, is >>>>Do not wait until it's too late to show them how much you care. Pay attention. Take the time. Listen!

A list of things I wish I would have asked?

• What is your favorite thing?
• What would you like to see before it's too late?
• What would you have liked to have done different with your life?
• Tell me all about my grandparents? Family history? Family secrets?
• What can I do to make your life better?
• Will you name all the people in all these old pictures?
• And so on, and so on, and so on....

Ask your questions. Show your love and appreciation, Every! Single! Day!

My family's world is smaller, and ever so much sadder with the loss of this amazing man. Our patriarch. Our Friend. Our Hero. Our Father. Rest in Peace. Thank you for the understanding and kindness you bestowed on us. We will do our best to make you proud and we look forward to seeing you again one day.

Thanks for listening.

Beloved ghosts, twisted mysteries, and timeless love are my specialty!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Award-winning author, Rhonda Frankhouser, pens stories with beloved ghosts, twisted mysteries, and timeless love. Her favorite genres are Western and Contemporary Romance, with the occasional mainstream tear-jerker to keep things interesting. Rhonda's Ruby's Ranch Series, earned a starred review in Publisher's Weekly; a finalist honor in the Uncaged Review Raven Awards; a second runner up in the prestigious InD'Tale Magazine RONE awards and a Book and Benches, Reviewers Top Pic ~ Books of Distinction award. Her follow up Shadowing Souls Series and Let Yourself Believe Series, have captured the attention of both romance and mainstream readers alike. After a lifetime in Central California, Rhonda and her own knight in shining armor, moved to beautiful Northeast Georgia to embark on a brand new journey.

Subscribe to Rhonda's webpage at https://www.rhondafrankhouserbooks.com/
Follow Rhonda on Facebook https://m.facebook.com/RhondaFrankhouser/

• Return to Ruby's Ranch - Book 1 Ruby's Ranch Series - RONE Award Runner Up
• Escape from Ruby's Ranch, Book 2 Ruby's Ranch Series - Raven Award Runner Up
• Legacy of Ruby's Ranch, Book 3 Ruby's Ranch Series
• Christmas at Ruby's Ranch
• Health Nut Café
• Beyond Forever - Let Yourself Believe Series

 How Stress Effects Creativity         

...And Why Some Thrive While others Falter Under Pressure?

by Rhonda Frankhouser

Photo by Markus Winkler on Unsplash

A Letter to My Writer’s Soul

RE: Your Long Absence

My dearest, darling muse,

It’s been nearly a year since you left me. I can’t begin to tell you how much I’ve missed your snark and light-hearted wit. The freedom and adventure you once instilled in me has withered, leaving my soul collapsed around sadness and fear.

I pray each day that the stress radiating from every avenue of life will subside and give you a fighting chance to break through, but this world we now live in is not the same world of my youth. The hate, anger, blame, sickness, and division is beyond repressive. It’s downright destructive, and I’ll never forgive that it keeps you a severed arms’ distance from me.

Until such time as you are freed to grace my mind again, I promise to do my part. I will gather adventures for fodder; transform angst into character; become a barrier to negativity, and remember my many blessings amid the devastation.

I want you to know that I am ever thankful for our past together — and ever hopeful for a blissful reunion one day soon. But mostly, I want you to know that I forgive you for disappearing. Sometimes, I wish I could do the same.

Sincerely,

Rhonda

Photo by Ryan Snaadt on Unsplash

So, let’s talk about this very touchy subject. How does stress effect the Creative — and why is it different for every person?

Recently, I had a conversation with an esteemed writer about the effect stress has on creative individuals. It baffled us both how some thrive while others falter under various types of pressure. As you can probably tell by reading my letter above, I’m definitely a member the latter group under stress that relates to family, livelihood, and health, while stress derived from competition ignites an engine of creativity inside of me.

After our conversation, I did a little research into this phenomenon. I spent a half hour of my life — which at the time I felt I truly did not have to spare, watching the YouTube Video by Dr. Joe Dispenza, entitled Living in SURVIVAL vs. Living in CREATION.

Survival vs. Creation — It’s worth the time to watch!

In that blessed half hour, I learned exactly how devastating unmanaged stress can be on our mind, body, and soul. I never realized allowing these emotions to rule your inner world could create disorganized thought and even physical illness.

According to Dr. Dispenza, when we enter Survival state or Animal state, stress hormones throw us into an incoherent, emergency mode — seeking shelter from the onslaught of negativity and damaging stress hormones. In this environment, we become more matter than energy, and creation takes a back seat to survival.

The good news is, with a conscious effort to attend to your own self care and positive mindfulness, you can develop the ability to believe in a brighter future, rather than dwelling on the dismal past. He termed this the Divine state or Creative state, which broadens our focus and opens awareness.

Photo by Erik Brolin on Unsplash

I never knew a short walk, or a few, mindful moments of silence, could redirect mismanaged stress, stifling the physical and emotional consequences of overactive stress hormones.

Who knew we had that much control, controlling the uncontrollable? So, is that the difference why some creatives thrive in the Divine state while others, like me, are stuck just trying to Survive.

Listening to Dr. Dispenza’s explanation made me understand a whole lot more about the phenomenon called STRESS, but I still read on. Because that’s what writers do…

Daniel Kunitz, in his article Why Creative People Need Stress in their Lives, states that stress is just another type of stimuli for our psyche to manage. Not all stress should be thought of as negative. It can be a driving force for success or a weight that drags you down, depending on how it’s buffered or perceived.

He further relays how different levels of stress effect the creative.

1. Extreme levels — undermines all creativity. It’s best to give yourself permission to relax until it passes.

2. Moderate levels — can either bring on inspiration or procrastination depending on how a person handles it. Most productive creatives operate best in the moderate level.

3. Low levels — finds most creatives feeling stagnant and uninspired.

Personally, I’d never thought of stress in those terms. It’s always been this repressive energy created from my lack of control, or sadness over a situation, that holds me down until I can’t focus on anything other than the negativity.

Much like Dr. Dispenza, Kunitz’ view of stress levels has given me permission, for the first time ever, to be still and quiet when there are too many sources of negativity working against me. When life gets overwhelming, it’s okay to disconnect and find a happy place. Take a walk, go for a coffee, and expect nothing from myself but to breathe.

Photo by Andraz Lazic on Unsplash

Like most creatives, I have a built-in guilt mechanism that kicks in when I’m not being productive — which of course, creates its own source of stress. Grasping the meaning of the stress levels, and understanding my own limits, has helped me cope with this guilt.

Kunitz’

hypothesis also encouraged me to gently push myself toward the laptop, (which I am doing right now, btw). If I’m gracious with my trepidation and just allow my fingers to hover over the keys — maybe the door will wiggle open for my fun-loving writer’s soul to peek through? Maybe writing is the cure to repelling the sinister effects of anxiety? My own therapy, perhaps?

Here’s my short list of stressors to avoid in today’s bizarre environment.

· No more scroll hole on social media for hours on end

· No more news that show only negative stories

· No more political commercials which tell us nothing of how problems will be solved

I know, I know, everyone needs to be informed and be a part of the solution, but maybe we should all find a way to make things better by doing better things? Write something beautiful that gives readers hope for a brighter tomorrow. Paint, cook, draw to create lightness. If you have no energy to create, listen to music, read, breathe, but please, don’t dedicate hours of time you’ll never get back to things that are geared to cause upheaval.

Photo by Brian Wertheim on Unsplash

Whew — SORRY ABOUT THAT– OFF THE SOAPBOX…

But I digress. After all my research on stress as it relates to creativity, I’ve given myself permission to think of stress as another method of motivation. Life’s pressures force action, which require healing, and finally adaptation. Just as physical exercise is designed to break your muscles down, so you can rebuild into an even stronger being, maybe using stress as a positive can allow us to manipulate it into useful energy for change?

With a little direction and mindfulness, human beings can be amazing, adaptable creatures with the ability to transition through life, bouncing from one obstacle to another, to finally evolve into stronger, smarter, calmer versions of ourselves. After all that 2020 has put us through, I have no doubt our next evolution will be one for the ages.

Thanks for listening,

Rhonda Frankhouser

Award-Winning Author

www.rhondafrankhouserbooks.com

Previously published on Kristine Raymond's blog and Medium.com, but I wanted to share with my Cowboy Kisses family. So sorry for the huge photos :-(