Showing posts with label @rjfrankhouser. Show all posts
Showing posts with label @rjfrankhouser. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 13, 2020

How Horses Changed Native American Culture by Rhonda Frankhouser

"No philosophers so thoroughly comprehend us as dogs and horses." —Herman Melville

Introduction of Horses in Native American Culture

There's something truly mystical about a horse.
 Maybe it's their piercing gaze that seems to stare right into your soul or the silent communication between horse and rider that co-mingles two separate energies into one perfect motion. Could it be their uncanny intuition and absolute dedication that brings about an almost spiritual admiration? Their intoxicating scent?

Personally, I think it's a delicate balance of all those elements that brings horse and rider together into one harmonious unit. I can't imagine a life without my lifelong love and respect for horses, but can you imagine what having a horse must have meant to those who counted on them for more than companionship and sport?

During the 16th and 17th centuries, native american cultures acquired domesticated horses from Spanish ranchers in Mexico, New Mexico, and Texas. The largest influx of horses into the native american culture came during the Pueblo Revolt in 1680. Horses spread to other tribes as a result of both intertribal trading and livestock raids. In the 18th century, the regions around Santa Fe and San Antonio became a major distribution center for the rest of the country.

Horses were a miracle addition to Native American culture.


In an instant, many plodding tribes were transformed from marginal hunters and near-starving farmers to fierce, nimble warriors. With the help of strong horses, whole villages, (including the sick and elderly who before were left behind), could move long distances in a relatively short amount of time. With the ability to haul heavier loads, larger personal residents as well as more elaborate gathering places were made possible. Simply put, horses changed the very lifestyle of many native american tribes.

Western tribes looked upon the horse with an almost religious awe. So enamored were native warriors of their horses, they sang to their steeds and carved effigies (like the one below) to those killed in battle. The red dots were meant to show the wounds suffered by their faithful animals.
Wooden figure carved by Sioux Warrior in honor of fallen horse

'My horse be swift in flight
Even like a bird;
My horse be swift in flight.
Bear me now in safety
Far from the enemy's arrows,
And you shall be rewarded
With streamers and ribbons red.'
                                                        Sioux warriors song to his horse

For hundreds of years horses provided necessary transportation, added power for heavy, difficult jobs, and direct, one-on-one companionship for their riders. Without hesitation, these brave animals charged into battle and scaled unknown peaks alongside (or rather underneath), many noble explorers. When they were called upon, they often perished in the service of their rider.

With the advent of technology and changing times, horses are rarely used for transportation and work labor, but they remain an integral, and much revered, member of most native american cultures. Horses represent a majestic tradition, and their spiritual connection to their rider will last until the end of time. 

"A horse gallops with his lungs, perseveres with his heart and wins with his character." —Frederico Tesio


Rhonda Frankhouser is an award-winning author of mainstream fiction, contemporary and western romance. She lives in the beautiful state of Georgia with her husband and three dogs. Follow Rhonda at www.rhondafrankhouserbooks.com.

Sunday, October 27, 2019

Excerpt Sunday for Christmas at Ruby's Ranch by Rhonda Frankhouser


Come along for the ride as the four stubborn, passionate matriarchs of Ruby's Ranch discover the truth of their family legacy

HERE’S A SNEAK PEEK Christmas at Ruby’s Ranch – Book 4 of the award-winning Ruby’s Ranch Series! Due to release November 1, 2019


Will Ruby’s holiday wishes come true, or will family secrets devastate their happy reunion?

This year the Ruby’s Ranch family will celebrate Christmas together for the first time in two decades. It’s the miracle Ruby MacCallister prayed for since the day her mother inexplicably disappeared, splitting the family apart.

When an anonymous gift arrives on the doorstep a few weeks before the big holiday, a very pregnant Ruby, finds herself enmeshed in the intrigue surrounding Granny Rube’s death again.

Excerpt

Chapter One
Knock, knock, knock, echoed through the quiet house. Ruby jerked awake, wondering if she’d dreamt the sound. 
When the knock came again on the front door, her protective chocolate Labradors, Heidi and Ho, rushed to her bedside. Low menacing growls rumbled from their chests. She cradled her pregnant belly and peered at the clock.
Three a.m.
What the hell?
She pulled back the heavy comforter and shivered when the cold in the room touched her bare legs. Covering her body with one of Billy’s flannel shirts, she waddled up the hall, one faithful dog at each side, to see who dared bang on the door at such a late hour. Out the kitchen window, the fog was so thick, she could barely make out the greenhouse across the yard.
Knock, knock, knock. The rapping sounded again, more insistent this time.
Chills crawled up Ruby’s spine as the dogs rushed toward the door barking, hair high on their necks. She was alone in the house. Momma and Daddy were in their bungalow at the far end of the corrals. Billy and Stan, the ranch foreman, would be away at least another day. The wranglers who’d stayed for Christmas, would all be sound asleep in the bunkhouse. 
Ruby nudged the fireplace room drape aside and peered into the darkness. No strange vehicle or horse was in the drive. The view to the door was obscured by Granny Rube’s rose bushes clinging to the trellis.
Knock, knock, knock, came again, loud and staccato. Ruby gasped and stepped away from the window, her nerves shaken, the dogs steady by her side. Come on, quit being such a girl.
She straightened her shoulders and snugged the flannel tighter against her growing belly. To be safe, she grabbed the trusty squirrel shooter from behind the door. Holding it in her arms, she flipped open the lock.
The glass knob felt cold as it turned in her hand. Slowly, she pulled open the door, met only by a wall of mist. The dogs rushed out to investigate but the porch was empty, and the night was still.
Ruby scanned the yard and up the drive for retreating lights but saw nothing. No one. When she stepped out to look around, her foot thudded against something hard. A square, lightweight, wooden box skidded a few inches, coming to rest against the rusty pot that hid the spare key.
“What on earth?” She squatted and picked up the box, peering cautiously into the darkness. The dogs had disappeared up the path toward the barn. She still didn’t see anyone. Who had delivered this carton?
Ruby backed through the threshold, with the box in hand. She shut the door with her bare foot and locked herself inside. With the 22-rifle stowed back in its hiding place, she walked to the kitchen and set the package down on the table.
She glanced one last time out the window, then blew out a frustrated breath. “Looks like the ghosts of Ruby’s Ranch have come a-callin once again.”

Chapter Two

Ruby drew the kitchen curtains and flipped on the light. She nudged her long, strawberry-blonde hair behind her shoulders and leaned closer to the gift to get a better look. “What could this be?”
Wrapped in expensive foil paper, a red velvet ribbon secured the lid in place. There was no card attached.
“Don’t be an idiot, Ruby. Wait for the boys to get home.”  
She contemplated the gift as she brewed an extra strong cup of decaf and added far too much cream and sugar.
When she sat down and took a hearty sip, she spit the coffee back into the cup and wiped her hand across her mouth. “Oh, that’s disgusting!” The coffee too rich for her hormone ravaged taste buds, she set the cup on the table and pushed it away.
Augie, the house’s protective spirit, surrounded Ruby with his calming presence, which gave her the courage to pull the box in close. Her fingertips glided across the glittery red paper. “Seems too fine a wrapping job to hold anything dangerous, but still, I should wait. That would be the smart thing to do.”
But she couldn’t help herself. The ribbon unfurled with a simple tug and the paper fell open at the seams. The wooden box was fashioned from pieces of pine board, artistically tongue and grooved at the edges, the RR brand burned into the lid.
“Ruby’s Ranch? What the hell?” She whispered, her mind running a hundred miles an hour.
She jumped to her feet and hurried through the front door. “Come back and talk to me! You can’t do this to me now. I’m about to have a baby!” She called out into the foggy darkness for her mystery delivery person to return, but no one answered.
Heidi and Ho barked and returned quickly to her side, panting hard from a long run. The horses whinnied in the barn and cattle mooed in protest of being disturbed in the middle of the night.
Finally, Stan’s grandson Matthew hustled up the path from the bunkhouse, feet halfway into his boots, buttoning his pants. His cheeks flushed bright red, calling attention to the sparse stubble blossoming on his chin.
“Miss Ruby, are you okay? Is it time?” He asked breathlessly, eyeing her bare feet.
He stepped closer and laid a supportive hand on Ruby’s shoulder. She saw concern in the innocent blue eyes. A mess of dark curls framed the handsome face, and a slept in T-shirt twisted around his narrow waist.
Ruby couldn’t help but smile. He was as adorable as his grandfather. Sweet and naïve, with a dash of spit and vinegar, especially when he held Ruby’s younger sister, Emma, in his adoring gaze. “I’m sorry, Matthew. I’m fine. Go back to bed.”
When she turned toward the house, he touched her elbow. “Were you looking for someone?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.”
“Cause I thought I heard footsteps heading up the path, and the dogs chasing after, but . . . ”
Before he could finish his sentence, Ruby stopped him, “Please saddle my horse. I’ll be right out.”

Chapter Three
She hurried into the house and changed into the only riding clothes that still fit. Her well-worn Ariats, thankfully, slipped on her feet without her having to bend. After catching her breath from the exertion of dressing, she tugged on her warmest coat, tied a scarf around her neck, then slipped her hands into deerskin gloves and pushed her cowboy hat down tight.
Matthew watched her nervously when she approached.
“Ready?” Ruby took Sadie’s reins from his shaking hand.
“Can I help you up, Miss Ruby?”
 “I think I can handle it.” She winked, then prayed to herself that she was right.
Ruby awkwardly crawled on to Sadie’s back and headed up the path, her keen eyes focused on the ground. Smallish boot prints turned to hoof prints when the person rode a horse toward Haley’s Peak. Dawn had broken, but the sun was yet below the mountain. The subtle breeze felt like ice sliding against her bare face.
Beside her on his sturdy palomino stud, Matthew said, “I mean no disrespect, but should you be riding in your condition, Miss Ruby? ‘Specially out in this cold.”
Ruby glanced over her shoulder and smiled at the flustered young man mumbling to himself, obviously wondering how he’d become an unwitting accomplice. She patted the gentle Appaloosa mare on her white spotted rump. “Don’t fret. Sadie rides as smooth as a rocking chair. She’ll take good care of me. Won’t you, girl?”
Even Sadie seemed extra watchful and cautious, as they traveled higher into the mountains at the break of winter’s dawn. The dirt trail was swallowed by frosty, wet grass. When Ruby dismounted to investigate, a sharp pain shot through her groin causing her back to spasm. 
“Ouch! Calm down, little missy. We’re almost done. Don’t be so impatient.” She cradled her heavy belly.
“Ma’am?” Matthew asked, thinking she’d spoken to him.
“I’ve lost the trail. The hoof prints disappeared. So much for our mystery rider.” Sadie’s head popped up at the sound of a coyote call in the distance and the screech of a hoot owl over the open field.
Matthew hopped down next to her and peered around. “Whoever it was must-a sprouted wings and flown off from here.”
Ruby massaged the cramp from her low back, glancing around one last time before gingerly mounting on Sadie again. “Let’s get to the house. I need to lie down. And I don’t want anyone missing us. It’s not worth their worry.”
“Yes ma’am,” Matthew’s voice hitched with relief.
During the long ride home, the baby kicked and fussed for space, making Ruby realize the foolishness of riding two weeks before her due date. Matthew stayed by her side, ever watchful for unwanted predators who might leap out from the thick fog.
“Ah, damn it.” Ruby slumped in the saddle, spotting Billy’s truck in the drive. She’d have some explaining to do.
She slid down off the horse, careful not to jostle the baby too much, and handed Matthew the reins. “Our little secret, right?”
He tipped his hat. “Yes ma’am, my lips are sealed.”
Billy was halfway up the path before she took another step. His concerned, green eyes assessed her. He pulled Ruby into his arms and trailed his hands down her back. “Ruby Marie, what the hell are you doing riding this close to givin’ birth?”
She nuzzled into the warmth of his unshaven neck. His familiar musky scent filtered through her. “You mind us going inside? I’m freezing.” She slid her arm beneath his wool-lined denim jacket and matched his slow steps back to the house.
Stan stood on the porch, shoulders hunched, hat in hands. His expressive eyes creased from years of riding in the sun. What hair he had left was pressed tight against his head where his old Stetson rode. “Young lady, what were you thinkin’?”
“Oh relax, I’m fine. Why are y’all back from the auction already, anyhow?”
The old man’s funny scowl made her laugh. It was still hard for Ruby to believe this loyal friend, who stayed by Granny Rube’s side even after Grandpa Mac was killed, once had a wife and two little girls of his own. If not for Matthew, she’d probably never have known about them at all.
Stan tugged off his dirty boots, then pushed open the door for them to pass. “Billy popped up outta bed and said we needed ta get home. Damned if he wasn’t right. Look at you, riding in the ice cold like a fool.”
Appreciating the fatherly advice, Ruby kissed Stan’s weathered cheek as she passed him in the doorway. “I said, I’m fine. Now, stop fussing at me and let’s have some coffee.”
Billy helped Ruby off with her coat and removed his boots before entering the kitchen. He was gorgeous, even exhausted and irritated. Snug jeans couldn’t hide his strong legs, and a wrinkled riding shirt showed a tuft of sexy hair over the top button. He tossed his hat on the counter and ran his hand through his chestnut waves.
Ruby let out a long, thankful breath, admiring him. “I’m really glad you’re home.”
“You wanna tell me what’s going on?” Billy looked at her, his unrelenting gaze demanded answers.
Stan stood dead still, focusing on the mysterious pine box sitting on Granny Rube’s fine oak table. “You mind tellin’ me what the hell that thing is doing here?”
Releasing November 1st....Pre-order BUYLINK


Join the Ruby’s Ranch intrigue from the beginning:




About the Author
After fourteen years in hospice care management in central California, Rhonda Frankhouser now writes full time from her lovely Atlanta, Georgia home. Rhonda's award-winning Ruby's Ranch Series, earned 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. Rhonda is a happily married stepmom to three beautiful daughters; two adorable pugs and a lazy Labrador named Dutch.


Follow Rhonda @

Email her at
rhondafrankhouserbooks@gmail.com


Wednesday, September 11, 2019

What is it About a Horse Whisperer? by Rhonda Frankhouser

Okay, on the scale from 1 to 10, how sexy is a horse whisperer? To me, maybe a 50. Especially when Robert Redford played the part. Mercy.

Copyright to the owner from the motion picture, The Horse Whisperer

The art of communicating with horses is an age old art form, performed, unfortunately, by fewer and fewer experts as time goes on. The technical definition of horse whisperer, according to www.yourdictionary.com, is, "A horse trainer who adopts a sympathetic view of the motives, needs, and desires of the horse, based on modern equine psychology." 

I've researched the techniques used by a few working horse whisperers, though I'm sure there are a million more that I could share. 
Steve Harris - Photo rights to owner.
Well known horse whisperer, Steve Harris', main premise is not to break the will of the horse, but rather to use the gentle side of force. Thanks to a fabulous article by Jack Dunigan, The Gentle Side of Force, here's a summary of his techniques.
1. Establish a partnership between the rider and horse by showing you're a confident leader.
2. Establish two-way communication by talking face to face.
3. Establish who is the leader and who's the follower by being associates, rather than buddies.
4. Maintain a connection by spending time and being present.
5. Prove you're trustworthy by repeating behaviors to show your integrity.
6. Test respect by not 'demanding' but 'asking' them to follow.
7. Clarify what you want by being very clear with directions.
8. Once respect and enthusiasm is established between horse and rider, then ride and enjoy the symbiotic relationship.
Mark Rashid - Photo rights to owner.
Another approach comes from multi-published, horse whisperer, Mark Rashid, who employs the simple technique of 'don't fight, and be clear', to create a mutually respectful relationship between rider and horse. In his interview with PBS/ATL, NATURE Horse and Rider, he shares the following:
1. The rider must truly understand what it is they want from their mount before 'asking' the horse to follow direction. 
2. Recognize the horse's good behavior and build on that, rather than focusing on bad behaviors.
3. Horse's don't usually willingly disobey, they often misunderstand. Be sure to be 'speak the same language' and be clear what you're asking them to do.
4. Be certain the horse is healthy and not suffering from an ailment that would aggravate the training. (i.e. mouth or foot issues).
5. Use a steady stream of affirmation language to communicate what you want the horse to do and to be sure he/she understands. He suggests repeatedly using "good" for wanted behavior and "no" for unwanted behaviors. 

As luck would have it, my childhood neighbor, a delightful, strong, silent construction worker, transformed into an amazing horse whisperer working with our horses on the farm. This Nevada native, was born into the incredible horse-savvy Spanish Basque culture. One minute he was a jokester, but when he climbed on to the saddle of the meanest gelding in the barn, his attention was strictly focused on the fidgeting animal. 

We all stood around the pen, amazed as the horse settled down, perked his ears back, and followed the commands by this very quiet, very calm, very confident rider. I was sooooooooooooooooooooo envious how he could make that ornery horse do whatever he wanted. Even more so when he dismounted and the gelding followed dutifully behind without nipping or lunging (as was his favorite thing to do with me).

So really it seems, creating a good relationship between horse and rider is more about respect and trust, rather than the command of the rider over the mount. Come to think of it, that's a good adage for all relationships. Wouldn't you say?

Have you ever seen a horse whisperer in action? I'd love to hear your thoughts.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
After fourteen years in hospice care management in central California, Rhonda Frankhouser now writes full time from her lovely Atlanta, Georgia home. Rhonda's award-winning Ruby's Ranch Series, earned 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. Rhonda is a happily married stepmom to three beautiful daughters; two adorable pugs and a lazy Labrador named Dutch.


Check out Rhonda's Award-Winning Ruby's Ranch Series on Amazon. Book 1 will be FREE on Freebooksy September 14-16. Check this link on September 14th to get your copy!!!

Christmas at Ruby's Ranch - A Novella will be available soon!




Wednesday, July 10, 2019

Meet Rube Gautier, the star of Legacy of Ruby's Ranch by Rhonda Frankhouser


Granny Rube wasn't always a granny, y'all. She was once a dreamer...


In Legacy of Ruby's Ranch, Book 3 of the award-winning Ruby's Ranch Series, we go back two generations to interview the original matriarch of Ruby's Ranch, the young and impetuous Rube Gautier. 


After WWII and the devastation of the Dust Bowl, Rube tells us what life had in store for her before she became one of the most formidable ranchers of her time.

Rube Gautier is the only child of Cyrene and Samuel Gautier. She was born into a village of people who believed duty and responsibility reigned above all else, but all she wants is to leave home and start her own ranch in the Kern River Valley.


Rube does her best to accept her fate but dreams both haunt and tantalize her. Will she follow the teachings of the legacy or follow the tall, sexy cowboy who promises to make her dreams come true? Let’s ask Rube.

What is your relationship status?
She paused considering the question. “As far as my parents are concerned, I’ve been in a relationship since I was promised to Gabriel, but the thought of arranged marriages is so arcane. I just want to live my own life and fall in love.” She smiled, coyly. “I’d be interested in learning more about that gorgeous cowboy, Mac Adams. The whole, strong, silent, war hero thing he has going, keeps me up at night. If you know what I mean?”

When you look in the mirror, what do you see?
“I see a stubborn, passionate woman who looks particularly like her mother when she pulls her hair back into a clip. Someone who knows exactly what she wants but can’t break Papa’s heart to get it.”
Copyright to photographer
What is people’s first impression of you?
She pinched her face into a frown and glanced away, “You know, I’ve never really thought of it, but I guess they might call me cranky and willful, when really I’m curious and hopeful. The few who matter can see my fun, flirty side.”

Name three of your favorite things.
“I have way more than three favorite things, but I have to say, riding my beautiful, Cremello mare, Twilight in the breaking dawn; smelling gingerbread cookies baking in Momma’s oven; and the adorable crooked smile Mac flashes when he’s trying to flirt. Have mercy.”

Name three things that tick you off.
“Being told what to do. I really hate that!  Also, being under the rule of ancient tradition and being forced into a relationship not of my choosing. I think it’s about time all of these things are challenged.”

What is your best memory to date?
A wide smile spread across her lips and her eyes lit. “Riding the high plains with Papa, rounding up our prized herd. Things were so simple when I was younger. More recently, I’d have to say the vision of Mac galloping toward me on the plateau. The commanding way he handled the most stubborn stud on the ranch, made me feel wicked things I’ve never felt before.”

What are you most afraid of?
“I’m afraid something bad will happen if I go against tradition. If I lost someone I loved because of my own selfish needs, it would break me.”

What would you like it to say on your tombstone?
“Interesting question. I’m not sure,” she pushed the glass in front of her away and leaned on the table. “Maybe - Here lies the passionate woman who loved hard, never gave up on her dreams, and always made her family proud.”

Now on to something lighter, what is your favorite drink?
“Without question, country sweet tea served in one of Momma’s mason jars. Sweet nectar of life.”

What is your favorite food?
“Fried chicken and biscuits and of course, Gingerbread cookies made from our family recipe.”

What was your first impression of Mac?
“He’s shy, and funny, and full of truth and honor. Wicked sexy. When I first saw him, he seemed so familiar. He’s the most confidant person I know, and he knows exactly what he wants. I admire that about him.” A blush came to her face. “He gives me hope for a different kind of life.”
A little Mac motivation ~ Copyright to photographer
If we could only hear your voice (but not see you) what characteristic would identify you?
“Probably determination. I don’t appreciate unanswered questions and vague explanations. I’ll pursue the truth ‘til the bitter end, even if it hurts me.”

What would you most like to forget?
“I would like to forget the look on Papa’s face when I told him I didn’t want anything to do with the family legacy. Disappointing him will surely be the most devastating thing to ever happen to me. At least I hope things won’t get worse than that.”

What is your most prized possession?
“Well, a horse is definitely not a possession, but Twilight is my most prized gift. She has brought me through many tumultuous times, given me confidence and unconditional love, and she'll be the key to my happily-ever-after. I just have a feeling.”
Gorgeous Cremello  ~ Copyright to photographer

Thank you to Rube Gautier for sharing a few thoughts before her story releases August 21, 2019. Be sure to read her granddaughter's story, 2017 RONE Finalist, Return to Ruby's Ranch, and her daughter's story, Escape from Ruby's Ranch. 


Follow Rhonda
www.rhondafrankhouserbooks.com, Amazon, Facebook, Bookbub, Goodreads, Twitter, and Instagram.




Wednesday, May 8, 2019

The Flavors of a Country Childhood by Rhonda Frankhouser


Smells and flavors bring back as many memories as old pictures....or music.

💞

When I pondered what home really means to me, I immediately thought of food. I was raised on a farm by good southern folks who wielded the mystical powers of the cast iron skillet and bacon grease. Between their masterful culinary skills and fresh garden bounty, we never went without a delicious meal.

I can recall the fine stitching of my grandmother's apron and still taste the Juicy Fruit gum she shared as we cooked together. I remember how everyone gathered in the kitchen, laughing over steaming pots of heaven boiling on the stove; mason jars of sweet tea in every hand. Fresh cut okra, squash and onions frying together in a hot-buttered skillet. Home made ice cream being cranked by hand on the back porch. And let's not forget the perfectly browned biscuits and corn bread sitting on the counter with grandma's cheese cloth rags over the top to keep off the flies. Oh God, I miss it! And I miss all those beautiful human beings who raised me in that kitchen.

Thankfully, I did learn how to cook those savory specialties, keeping some of our family traditions alive. Chicken 'n dumplings, chicken fried steak, fried chicken and mashed potatoes, to name a few. Who knew soaking fresh snapped green beans in broth before cooking was the secret to winning over the next generation of vegetable haters. Half 'n half in the banana pudding, instead of milk, naughty, yes, but yum. A dollop of mayonnaise is the miracle in my mashed potatoes, but don't tell my kids. Meat loaf to die for and my grandmother's delicious crispy cornbread and special recipe lemon vanilla home made ice cream, makes my mouth water just thinking about it. 

I'm proud to be the matriarch of the family now, not because I make the rules or offer some godfather like counsel, but because I can still roll a mean biscuit and make lump free sausage gravy. I consider it a true blessing that I was raised before technology took over the world. Before microwave ovens zapped the life out of food and cell phones numbed the minds of the future. I'm glad I lived in a time before families forgot how to look one another in the eye and truly communicate.

What foods do you remember from your childhood? Special traditions? If not food, what? Our family played guitars and dominoes. Let's reminiscence together? We need to remember the simpler things. And we need to pass those precious traditions on to the next generation before they are lost forever!!!

Thanks for listening, Rhonda

Rhonda's award-winning Ruby's Ranch Series, earned a finalist honor in the Uncaged Book Review Raven Awards, a 2nd Runner Up in the prestigious InD'Tale Magazine RONE awards and a Books 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. Though originally a California girl, Rhonda now writes full time from her lovely Atlanta Georgia home.
FOLLOW RHONDA
www.rhondafrankhouserbooks.com