Threads West

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Threads West, An American Saga

This first book and namesake of the 33-novel series that is being compared by reviewers and authors to Lonesome Dove and Centennial.  The tale bursts with the adventure, romance and promise of historical America and the West. The epic saga of Threads West begins in 1855 with the first of five richly-textured, complex generations of unforgettable characters.  The separate lives of these driven men and independent women are drawn to a common destiny that beckons seductively from the wild and remote flanks of the American West.  They are swept into the dangerous currents of the far-distant frontier by the mysterious rivers of fate, the power of the land and the American spirit.Their turbulent journeys are heartbreaking quests intertwined with romance and adversity, passions and pathos, despair and triumph.The series has been compared to McMurtry’s Lonesome Dove by Reviewers, Readers, and Authors alike. Some have called it the Gone With the Wind of the West, and others have likened the novel to Michener’s Centennial. It is the adventurous, passionate tale of multi-generational threads of lives of unforgettable, driven men and women from diverse origin. It is the saga of their pathos and triumph, romance and conflict, and the gripping weave of their land forged personalities into the tapestry of an emerging nation. Threads West is the namesake and first of the #1 Bestselling, multiple award winning, thirty-three novel epic series, Threads West, An American Saga. The novel captured long lived #1 Bestselling positions in the major categories of Western, Romance, Historical Fiction, and nine genres, including Historical Romance, Historical Western, Historical Western Romance, Family Saga Pioneers and Homesteaders, Women of the West and Western Romance.Threads West is the beginning of this one hundred and seventy year tale of the adventure and romance of America, her people, her spirit and the west. This is our story.
July 2013 Reprint - 360pp

July 2013 Reprint – 360pp

Threads West, An American Saga
Author: Reid Lance Rosenthal
Published by: Rockin’ SR Publishing/Writing Dream LLC


To me, the basic elements of fiction writing. There is a story, the characters, the plot, and the writing in the story encompasses the arc of the tale, and the ever changing flow of set and theater from beginning to end. The characters are the actors upon the stage of the saga. They precipitate the action of the plot. The plot comprises the building blocks which frame and support the story in various locations, times, and character interaction. Finally, there is the writing. The texture of words, sentences, description, thought and syntax is the glue that binds the other essential elements of the book.

But what do I know? Many authors, virtually all of them far more accomplished than I, have their own opinions of these matters. One thing I am convinced of is that in many genres, including western romance, characters can be stereotypical. Though still enjoyable the “can do no wrong” or “can do no good” personality is fantasy. The reality of human nature is that every person has his or her strengths, weaknesses, shortcomings, strong suits, skeletons, principles or lack thereof, and each has been molded not only by their DNA but by their history and social setting. Complexity. It is the quintessential and most intriguing ingredient of any personality. People are not black or white but varying shades of gray. I have invested heavily in this facet of my characters because it is true and authentic.

The excerpt series on Threads West consists of tidbits pulled from the chapters on each of the primary characters in this first of the novels, the Threads West, An American Saga series. The romance of America, her people, her spirit, and the west. The ongoing story of us.The initial  books of the series, beginning with it’s name sake here, are historical Western romance novels. The final book of the series, based in part on a true tale, continue the story in the Contemporary West. The arc of the story that unfolds over the 170 years  inhabited by more than thirty eight primary characters spanning  four generations, their life threads woven into the rich tapestry of an emerging nation, and forged on the beautiful but unforgiving anvil of the vast lands of the American West.

And one more hint. Just as, in my humble opinion many characters in this genre are stereotypical, so too are many endings. Either she stands sobbing, clutching her heaving bosom in the doorway as her quiet, strong, broad shouldered man rides off silhouetted by the setting sun to pursue his manly quest…or…they walk slowly, happily, hand in hand surrounded by the warmth of love and light into a golden dawn (choose one).

Each of these thirty-three books could stand alone. They have their own endings which in some ways brings conclusion and in others leaves the readers hanging, awaiting continuation of the story. When completed the Saga will be well over ten thousand pages. But the end, truly the conclusion in the final pages of Summits, the last of the Threads West, An American Saga series, will not be stereotypical. However, that is yet another tale in the modern west.


From Threads West, An American Saga,

Johannes Svenson – Johannes Svenson was tall, lean and blonde. He was both irreverent and charming, and his military service in the Danish Heavy Calvary instilled in him a worldly, quiet but mischievous confidence. Roguish, adventurous, restless, he and his life are adrift. But Johannes, in his search to find himself, was about to be swept into the unknown currents of a far distant frontier by the mysterious rivers of destiny.

Chapter One – ©2010 All Rights Reserved

The villa perched atop the rocks overlooking a restless blue green sea. The coarse golden beach at the base of the stones soaked up the white foam of frothy swells that crashed on the edge of the sand. A cool salt breeze fluttered the villa’s bedroom curtains and the soft cream taffeta caressed the windowsill. Inside was a huge canopied Danish walnut bed and two fine Belgium walnut armoires, his and hers, nestled against either wall. An expensive Norwegian dresser served as an oak pedestal for a dainty white doily that centered a tall pewter candle holder. A solitary thin candle flickered in the air currents from the open window.

Johannes Svenson’s tall, thin naked body was draped over an equally lanky female form. The woman’s eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. The white creamy skin of her thighs quivered and her body trembled from their lovemaking, finished just minutes before. Johannes’ fingertips lightly traced the perfect curve of her hips and continued down her legs.

“Ah, that was wonderful,” he whispered in her ear.

Her lids opened. She turned a beautiful porcelain face to him. Large blue eyes stared back into his. A satiated grin spread from the corners of her mouth. She drew his head down with a delicate hand and kissed him.

“Oh, Johannes. I have never been touched like that. Eleven years of marriage and I realize that I have never been made love to before.”

He moved his hand to her breast, and his fingertips lightly stroked her erect nipple. “I want to see more of you, my sweet. Much more.”

They began to embrace, the woman wrapping her lithe legs around his hips. Then downstairs they heard a door slam. They froze. She pushed on Johannes’ chest.

“Quick! Your clothes!” she whispered.

Reuben Frank – Reuben Frank had just turned 21. He had led a sheltered existence on the outskirts of the little town of Villmar, on the serpentine banks of the Lahn River in Eastern Germany. His frame was toughened from working cattle and the farm with his brothers. His agile mind, good business sense and quiet strength had not gone unnoticed by his father whose health had been in decline since the death of Reuben’s mother, several years prior.

Though the family had prospered, the expansion and perpetuation of their livestock operation was confined by lack of land and the rigid social structure of 1800’s Europe. The heritage of his family and the future of their cattle business were to be placed in his hands. His ability to rise to the enormous responsibility in an untamed land he had never seen is unknown, even to him.

Chapter Two – ©2010 All Rights Reserved

The languid water of the Lahn River drifted past the great white barn. Upstream lay several fields gridded by fences and hedge-rows. The brown stubble of the grass had a slight tinge of emergent spring green. Reuben watched his father drive the wagon pulled by two stout draft horses along one field. The large blocks of wood that dragged behind prodded and tilled the manure into the fertile earth. Just beyond the river, the rooftops of the village of Villmar still glistened with dew and had begun to gleam in the morning sun.

Reuben Frank stood six feet tall with dark brown wavy hair. He had an athletic frame, not particularly broad-shouldered, but powerful nonetheless. Green eyes with a hint of gray sat in a wide face. He stroked his square jaw, his eyebrows furrowed in thought as he leaned against the weathered planks of a hay wagon. He wondered if he would ever see his family, particularly his father again.

“Better get this hay out to the heifers,” he mumbled in an attempt to distract himself. He drummed his fingers unconsciously on the rim of the wagon bed sidewalls and stood a moment longer to watch the familiar scene. He would miss this simple part of each day.


Sarah Bonney  – Sarah had made her choice. Following the death of her mother the old world held little promise. The glowing letters from her aunt already in America, an ambition and wonder that could be satiated only by exploration, and a strange pull which flowed from the unknown continent across the sea was about to collide with the realities of life, and personalities more experienced and far less innocent than hers.

Chapter Three – ©2010 All Rights Reserved

Sarah stooped to lovingly wipe the week’s layers of soot from the lines etched deep in the small marble tombstone. The encryption read: Nancy Bonney, adoring wife of Richard and loving mother of Emily and Sarah, 1818-1853. She closed her heavy tweed-wool coat and rewrapped her scarf, which had fallen open as she had tenderly cleaned her mother’s headstone. Next to her mother’s grave was another: Richard Bonney, devoted husband of Nancy and dedicated father of Emily and Sarah 1816-1851.

“I wish we could talk,” whispered Sarah.

The gentle mounds of the entombed bodies lay close together.  They had been covered by a new snowfall not yet grimy with the ever-present residue of Liverpool’s coal stacks. The smooth mantle of white flowed over the graves and the space between the two areas of raised earth was barely discernible, reduced to a small depression by the drifting.

Sarah forced the tremble in her lips into a soft smile. “Even in death you hold one another’s hands. Mother, I hope I find the love that you did.”

She gazed out over the cemetery, a place of solitude and quiet in the middle of the city bustle. She loved to come here, to contemplate life and talk with her parents. Sarah blinked back tears and forced herself to avert her gaze from the ground. The sun was high overhead and the shadows of leafless tree limbs cast an odd mosaic across the white blanket punctuated by hundreds of grave markers. On the other side of the brick wall crowned by cast iron, which surrounded the cemetery, she could hear the never-ending noise of the city. It was somehow remote, distant, a part of the past. She craned her neck so that the sun could reach her face and noticed as she did so how its rays caught and sparkled in auburn shimmer across the tendrils of red hair that hung across her shoulders almost to her breasts.

She turned to the west. The sky there seethed with the excitement and anticipation of departing clouds, a powerful antidote to the sorrow and loneliness that had gripped her moments before. “A good omen,” she whispered to herself.

She took one long last look around the cemetery, gently touched the rounded top of each of the headstones of her parents and wiped tears from her eyes with the alternate sleeve of her coat.

“Farewell,” she murmured, “it is unlikely that I will ever see you again, but know that I am with you and you with me, always.”

Jacob O’Shanahan – Feisty, stocky, cunning and violent, Jacob had grown up in the grimy streets of Dublin, Ireland. He had lived hand to mouth, his focus only on the egocentric satisfaction of the day at hand and backroom poker, the mainstay of his livelihood. His quick temper and greed were about to thrust him over the precipice of a major life alteration. The coarse fabric of his existence would intertwine with the threads of others in a quirk of unknown destiny neither he nor they could ever have contemplated.

Chapter Seven – ©2010 All Rights Reserved

The day was gray and seamy, the cobblestone streets of Dublin, Ireland, slushy with the dirty melting snow of an early spring storm. The brown brick of city buildings stood dull with late-winter grime. O’Reily’s Tavern teemed with the Saturday afternoon crowd. The air inside hung stagnant with the brown smoke of cigars and cigarettes. A boisterous buzz sounded from the patrons who crowded every chair and stool and stood shoulder-to-shoulder at the bar. In the far corner, a group of men had gathered around a table centered under a low-hanging chandelier with four gas lights, each with a copper canopy reflecting illumination downward on the soft green felt covering the surface of the poker table.

This quiet group intently watched a poker game. There was not a word spoken among the seven players. It was obvious to the spectators that this was not a friendly recreational round of cards. There was no love lost among any of the men who fingered their cards and glanced with suspicion at one another over their hands. A large pile of chips and coins were heaped in the center of the table.

Jacob O’Shanahan sat in a chair with his back to the very corner of the room. It was his usual spot. Wide-set pale blue eyes in a square, slightly ruddy face intently surveyed every player. He was not a big man, but he was stocky. His large shoulders hunched forward as if to conceal the cards held in beefy hands. He wore scars over his knuckles, injuries sustained from past impacts. His thin lips afforded him a swarthy look. In his own way he was an attractive man, attested to by the buxom red-haired lady of the night who sat on his lap, one leg draped over his thigh, both arms curled around his neck. She had a once-pretty face. Now though, the abundant makeup failed to fully restore her former beauty. Jacob noticed she looked hungrily at the pot. He pushed his cards together between his hands, laid them down upon the felt, picked the top one, and threw it face down into the center of the table.

“One.” He said with his customary surliness.

The players studied Jacob’s impassive features. Several men at the table turned and cast glances at one another. The tall man sitting to Jacob’s right barely moved his head.

Rebecca Marx – She was a dark haired beauty with ravenous eyes and a figure that turns heads. But Rebecca was petulant, clever, demanding, spoiled and jealous of her creature comforts and stature in English high society. Prior to his death she shrewdly assisted her father for years in the family trade. She views the decline of the business her grandfather founded demeaning. The last hope is a mysterious asset rumored to be of great value somewhere in a rugged unsettled land thousands of miles to the west. And yet another life thread begins to spool towards an unknown future.

Chapter Eight – ©2010 All Rights Reserved

The rain beat with a soft drum-like cadence on the glass of the great bay window. It formed thin sheets of water that cascaded in a haphazard fashion down the diamond shapes of glass separated by finely scrolled diagonal oak mullion. The water distorted the image of large brick and stone row houses that grandly lined the opposite side of the cobbled street.

Rebecca drew her shawl more tightly around her shoulders, gave a petulant shake to her long, dark, almost-black hair, and stared at her reflection backlit by the soft glow of hissing gas lamps. Wide brown eyes were set perfectly above high cheekbones perched above a slender beautifully curved figure. Dark tendrils of hair flowed in slight waves over proud square shoulders and dangled lightly at a petite waist.

“Dreary,” she said to the image in the window panes. “A dreary day.”

She tossed her hair again. “How fitting for my last day in London.”

Her mother’s voice cut through the fog of her annoyed self-pity, “Rebecca! Rebecca Marx. I have the china all laid out. Do you have room in a trunk, my dear? This china must be wrapped.”

Rebecca turned to see her mother at her bedroom door, wringing her hands. “I will get it packed, Mother. Thank you for sorting it out.”

“Rebecca, do you know that this will make six trunks? This amount of luggage will cost a fortune in porters and handling.” Rebecca could hear the now-familiar half-wondering, half-querulous tone in her mother’s voice. It was a trembling speech pattern she had grown accustomed to since her father’s death one year before.

Rebecca turned back to the bay window, “I shan’t be spending any time outside of cities. I remember a time when incidental costs like baggage handling were of no concern to this family.”

On the street below the window, a bobby, immaculately uniformed even with his oiled slicker, made his way along the drenched cobblestones. His sodden steps splashed water in droplets that glistened in the flickering sheen of the oil flames in the streetlight boxes.

Rebecca sighed and pursed her lips. “Father, you have left us in such a mess. I know you did not intend to. If only you would have listened to me. We did not need those three entire cargos of spices. Now the family honor is at stake, and I am to chase halfway around the world and consort with uncivilized peasants.”

Rebecca could feel the familiar flush of inner anger as it crept up her cheeks. She stomped her bare foot on the shiny walnut parquet floor and looked up at the ceiling. “If you only knew. Whatever possessed you to invest in an asset you have never seen in a land that you have never been to?”

No image of her father appeared next to hers in the window. There were no answers. All was unknown. She stared at herself in the glass. “We shall see if your beauty and wit are as useful across the sea as they are here in England,” she mused to the image of the woman in front of her.

She closed her eyes, raised a graceful hand, pressed long thin fingers to her forehead and slowly rubbed the smooth skin above her eyebrows. “Or did you know? Did you know, Father?”

Her mother, Elizabeth puttered back into the room. She clucked and mumbled to herself. “Rebecca, this will be such a long, dangerous journey. You don’t have to go, daughter. We are not so badly off.”

Rebecca turned and walked slowly to her mother. She wrapped her arms around the frail bent body, gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead, and stood back, keeping both hands on her mother’s trembling arms.

“Mother, our condition is unfortunately precarious. Remember, I assisted Father for many years with the business and have overseen it since he passed. His investment in America is likely our only salvation.” Rebecca wondered if she should share her extreme doubt that anything would come of this trip or the mysterious instructions, deed and map in her father’s will.

Her mother’s lower lip quivered and mist filmed in her eyes. Rebecca decided to say nothing.

“It will be fine, Mum.” Her mother half smiled at this infrequent endearment. “We shall be back on our feet. And I won’t be gone for more than six or seven months.” She patted her mother’s hands. “Now, let’s get that china properly wrapped! I must get some sleep — tomorrow will be busy.”

Inga Bjorne – There were few men not arrested by the intensity of Inga Bjorne’s pale blue eyes. Tall, beautiful, curvy, and athletic with long blonde hair, her life had been contentious. She suffered the painful loss of her Norwegian parents when she was eleven. That trauma was exacerbated by a lazy, alcoholic uncle who had then dragged her to New York. His final abuse when she was thirteen afforded her the courage to escape from his perverse control. For seven years she had done what she must to survive in the bustling diversity of squalor and luxury that characterized mid 1800’s New York City. The timely application of her charm, looks and wit was finally about to land her a comfortable job. Unknown to Inga that stroke of fortune would tip the next domino in her life which would shake the foundation of her experiences and her caustic view of men.

Chapter Six – ©2010 All Rights Reserved

The first light of the new day filtered through the sheer silk curtains pulled across the windows in the elegant hotel suite. Muffled by glass and fabric, the sounds of New York City echoed up from the street between urban canyon walls of brick.

Inga Bjorne had been awake for hours, her long blonde hair tangled from the night. She could smell his sweat and their sex on her naked, tall and well-proportioned body. She did not stir for fear of waking the portly form that snored loudly on the opposite side of the bed. Her eyes moved slowly around the room. An expensive great coat and silk top hat hung from a finely crafted coat rack in one corner. The delicately textured walls glowed in the morning light and blended tastefully into the mahogany trim and baseboard. Mahogany wainscot accented two walls, and a large bear-claw tub sat next to the half-ajar door of the water closet. Inga cast a longing glance at the bath. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and focused on making her escape without having to endure his touch again. Once was quite enough, thank you.

First, I shall get my twenty dollars. Then, when he most certainly asks me to have breakfast with him, I shall tell him my other job interferes. I should be able to get out of here by eight. Thank God I don’t do this full time.

She opened her eyes and fixed her stare above her, following the design of the ornately scrolled ceiling tile. Her jaw clenched. A girl has to do what a girl has to do.

She forced herself to look ahead to the evening at the Carriage Restaurant and Bar. It was a place that catered to successful businessmen on West 42nd Street. The wages were terrible, but that was offset by the extra tips that were generated just by the sway of her lithe, curvy hips and the fluttering of her long eyelashes over her big blue eyes. It was also the perfect place to choose, study and entice the occasional customer for her secondary avocation. Without a stir of her head, her eyes shifted sideways to the client of the previous evening.

His name? She tried to remember but couldn’t. The silk sheets mounded over the portly form stirred with his last gasp of sleep apnea. He reached a meaty hand behind him and groped for her. Inga glided from the bed. His eyes opened and he partially rolled over. He caught her glance at the tub.


Zebbariah Taylor – Zebbariah Taylor was weathered, wiry and wily in the ways of the wilderness. His solitude was of stands of quaking aspens, sun drenched canyons, gurgles of rushing high country creeks and the still waters of beaver ponds which provided the pelts that kept him in supplies. Zeb was not much partial to people, intensely disliked settlements and towns and distrusted most who shared his skin color. His few friends were some of the Arapahoe and Shawnee with whom he traded. Unknown to him, the path of tough leathery loner would inexplicably intersect with the life journeys of others, resulting in generational influences far more broad and long term than his lone wolf nature could have ever foreseen.

Chapter Four – ©2010 All Rights Reserved

The sleek mottled brown and white silhouettes of the mustang, its thin buckskin-clad rider, and the stocky dirty gray forms of the pack mules strung behind the horse were motionless, almost invisible deep in the heart of the patch of quaking aspen. A .52 caliber breech-loading Sharps rifle lay across the rider’s thighs, cradled between his belt and the saddle horn. Diffused light filtered through the needles of the few conifers interspersed with the ghostly leafless branches of the aspen trees and added to the camouflage of the little band.

Zebarriah Taylor, or Zeb, as he preferred to be called, sat erect, perfectly still and keenly observant. One weathered hand slowly stroked a long strand of his thick, dark and unkempt mustache where it tapered off into the stubble just above his chin. His eyes probed in every direction and he listened intently. “Quiet. A bit too quiet,” he thought.

He slowly craned his neck to look back at the three pack mules, each of them burdened with a large bundle of pelts balanced and cinched between the wooden crossbars of the pack saddle frames. Shiny layers of fur protruded on all edges from under the oiled leathers lashed with rawhide over the top of each mound as a protective tarp. The mules stood complacently, though their ears were up. He spoke to them in a hushed tone, “Alert, but not too fidgety, eh? Me, too.”

The attention of the mustang was pricked also, and the horse stood like a statue, nose pointed toward the riffled sparkles that bounced off the surface of several beaver ponds. A small creek ran fifty yards further on at the edge of the trees. The glitters of the water sifted through the pond’s edge of willows and alders and formed points of bright light where they reflected off the white bark of the quaking aspens in the thicket surrounding Zeb and the stock. Overhead, puffy patches of clouds flitted across the face of the sun and scuttled in hurried billows through a deep blue sky to some unknown rendezvous to the east.

Zeb checked the cartridge in the Sharps and then pulled each of the brace of cap and ball pistols from his waistband; tucking them back when he was satisfied they, too, were ready. He leaned far to his left, pulled the .58 caliber Enfield musket from its belly scabbard and eyed the flash pan. He left it partially unsheathed, just in case. A split second could be life or death. He carefully swung his left leg over the saddle horn and the horse’s neck until he was sidesaddle. He patted the horse’s shoulder. “Easy, Buck, last two traps of the season. We made it through the winter — no sense getting killed now.” Again he paused, his eyes and ears fully in tune with the moment.

He slipped lightly off the saddle onto the silent carpet of fallen leaves, brown from the previous autumn and damp from the winter’s snowpack. There were still patches of old snow where shade had lingered. Alternating spring-day sun and frozen nights had solidified the once white flakes into little kernels, like frozen corn. This time of year, the warming of each day created a wet film of melted lubricant between the pebbles of ice, and these remnants of a stubborn winter were especially treacherous.

One leg slipped out from underneath Zeb as he crossed a deeper drift and almost fell. He caught himself on an aspen branch and cursed under his breath. He glanced down at the laced-up leather boots that extended almost to his knee. He had fashioned them out of heavy elk hide by firelight over long winter nights in the Notch Cabin, one of several small log shelters he had built and called home from time to time.



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National Reviews, and National & International Best Selling Author Endorsements

“The book is riveting and the story line captivating. I didn’t want to put the book down once I was started. I have never read Romance or Western novels and I thought this read would be a stretch for me but as I got into the story I immediately became engaged and found myself immersed in each word as the tale, the characters and their lives unfolded.”

~ KAREN MAYFIELD, Msc.CC, – National bestselling author of “Wake Up Women BE Happy Healthy & Wealthy” and co-creator for “Wake up Women” book series.


 “Diverse characters interwoven with highly visual prose flow into a journey of gathering suspense.  One senses the tightening thread that binds them will unravel with both delicious and devastating results.  Rosenthal delivers!”

~ JOSEPHINE ELLERSHAW,  – #1 International Bestselling Author – UK/US/CN

National Review-Threads West

“The last time I fell madly in love with a Western historical saga, the title was Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry; it won a Pulitzer in 1986. The splendor and adventure of Threads West…An American Saga, Novel One, has now surpassed my long-ago love affair with McMurtry’s Western saga. Reid L. Rosenthal, cowboy and rancher, has written a novel that spirited me away to the 1850s-1860s era and provided me with gripping hours of authentic Western history, action, drama, heartfelt romance and something extra special and seldom seen in literature of this caliber: well-written, sizzling sensuality”

“What separates a good novel from a great one? I close a good novel and feel satisfied. When I close a great novel, like this one, I feel sad that there are no more pages to read. From the first time each character appears in the book to the last time they fade from the pages, I was immersed in the personal stories of the heroes, the heroines, the bad guys, the powerful, the vulnerable, and the brave. I cared about their lives and loves, strengths and weaknesses, and their strife and successes. As they head for their compelling shared and undiscovered destinies, their paths unfurl like a Western sunrise in this new saga of the American West.”

“The Threads West series opens with a bang and closes with a promise of more excitement to come. The story of these enduring characters is destined to stamp its imprint on the spirit and heritage of readers’ hearts.”

“The writing is incredible. I’ll leave you with this small taste from Reid L. Rosenthal’s pen: “Dawn on the day of departure was a brilliant palette of indigo in retreat to the west and blossoming fire orange to the east. The Mississippi had a slight chop from the morning wind, the surface ripples reflecting the burgeoning day in a shimmer of color.”

Five stars are not enough. One book is not enough. Let there be more Threads West. Soon!–

~ EVE PALUDAN, – Twice #1 Writers Digest National bestselling author, Romance Writer’s Pink Pages. Editor, Publisher and Reviewer, and author of Letters from David, and (pending) The Man Who Fell from the Sky.


Midwest Book Review
“March 2011The allure of the west brought many people out there, but their success was greatly varied. “Threads West: An American Saga” is the first in Reid Lance Rosenthal’s series …”
(Read the entire review here)
Simply Stacie
“March 03, 2011 Threads West-An American Saga by Reid Lance Rosenthal is a wonderful new addition to the Western Historical genre that reminded me of the Louis L’Amour western books that I would borrow as a teen from my grandfather’s book shelf. Threads West is special to me in that it would be appealing to men and women alike and brilliantly mixes adventure, history and romance into a thoroughly satisfying story. The author effortlessly brings together a cast of diverse characters in a realistic portrayal of the men and women who are the spirit of the American West.
(Read the entire review here)
Heavenly Savings
January 22, 2011 “I am so excited to tell you about this new series from Reid Lance Rosenthal. The first book in a 6 part series, Threads West is set in 1855 and tells us about a group of people making their way from England to America. We follow each of them from their origins, see how they all come together and meet and find out their plans for the New World and how they seem to coincide.
(Read the entire review here)
Tethered Mommy
February 25, 2011

“I am a sucker for a good western book so I knew that this book would be right up my alley! Threads West by Reid Lance Rosenthal is a story about seven characters. They are each on different paths in life that lead them to the New World- America! In the start of the book there is a chapter for each of the seven main characters each have a chapter about them so you can really get into the story and know what their life is about. Usually I don’t like books with chapters that break everything up like that but Reid Lance Rosenthal did it in a way that captivated each life and the book would not have been as good if he did not decide to do it in that way.
(Read the entire review here)

Giveaway Blogdom
January 31, 2011

“Their turbulent journeys are heartbreaking quests intertwined with romance and adversity, passions and pathos, despair and triumph.

Well I have to say I love Lonesome Dove, and have yet to read the book. While Threads West is being compared by some as the next Lonesome Dove that’s not my business. I did thoroughly enjoy Threads West and actually went looking for the second book and had a “duh” moment. This is the first in a series and the others have yet to be written.”

BC – Blog Critics Books
January 22, 2011

“In the mid 1800s the United States is just beginning to explore their wilderness. For a variety of reasons people leave the comfort of everything they have ever known to move on to a wild and dangerous country, full of hope and dreams with adventure and possibilities. Gold is discovered in pockets of new areas, which increases the draw, as well as the lawlessness of those so bold. St. Louis becomes the gateway to the new frontier with the unforgiving land beckoning those men and women either brave enough or desperate enough to take on the challenge. This freedom is also known worldwide, and people are drawn to the new frontier, with the promise of freedom, land, and riches drawing them from their homes all over the world. It is a time of change and challenge, a time of discovery, both of the land and those hardy souls that challenge the danger and the elements to make their way to a new life.
(Read the entire review here)

Three Boys and an Old Lady
Friday, January 21, 2011

“Threads West is a good read. I would love to see it on the big screen as it reminded me of the Lonesome Dove series. The author vividly describes the scene allowing the reader to travel back in time in a tale of four strangers whose lives thread in the tapestry of life in the Wild West of the 1800s in the pursuit of something new. Threads West: An American Saga is the first in the six-book series and I am excitedly awaiting the next release in this series. Overall, a great read for those who love love historical fiction.
(Read the entire review here)

Our Whiskey Lullaby
Thursday, January 20, 2011

“Who remembers being captivated by the old west when they were kids. I know my daddy was. Being a kid growing up in the 50s and 60s, he used to watch cowboy shows and play with my toy gun, wishing he was out on the open range. Even though I grew up in a different generation, I still have a love for the old west. I have actually lived in New Mexico so I got to experience the land and scenery for a while too. And there is nothing better than reading a book this vivid and amazing and just picturing the whole story come true. This is a wonderful series for any western lover.
(Read the entire review here)

Literary Litter
Thursday, January 20, 2011

“This book is the first in a six part saga about a group of people that are migrating west in the 1850’s. They all start out separately, having their own secrets, pasts and reasons for the journey. As the saga begins, their paths cross and the story begins to unfold.”

“Love it! My only complaint is that I’m not willing to wait around for the second book. I suppose I don’t have any choice but to wait, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it! According to Reid’s blog, he’s currently working on Maps of Fate, the second book and hopefully I’ll be notified when it’s published so I can let you guys know.”

“This book is gritty and dirty and doesn’t hold anything back. On the other hand, it’s definitely polished. Reid has a knack for making even the mundane, necessary descriptions alluring. I was sucked in from page one and I’ve had two sleepless nights because of Threads. I’ve found myself having every reaction from ‘Aww…that’s so sweet!’ to ‘YOU F^*%%^& B^%$^*&!!!’ Sadly, those expletives were out loud and I’m ashamed of my behavior, but I’m not taking the blame! The characters are lovable and detestable and I need more of them!
(Read the entire review here)

Gather by Sheila Deeth
February 28, 2011

“My granddad used to watch movies on TV while constantly pointing out errors in their research. “They didn’t start wearing those… they didn’t call them that… no-one talked about this until… until…” It used to really frustrate me. I wanted to follow the story and didn’t mind mistakes unless they rendered the whole thing unbelievable. So why am I checking up on Reid Lance Rosenthal’s facts as I read Threads West? It’s probably just the weight of English culture catching up on me.
(Read the entire review here)
PageONE Literary – John Weaver
October 10, 2011

Threads West, An American Saga earns Five golden spurs for a job well done!

“Every now and then an author and a book come along that grabs readers’ hearts and attention that creates a literary stir — THREADS WEST, AN AMERICAN SAGA by Reid Lance Rosenthal is that book. THREADS WEST is garnering praise that is making this book an instant classic.”

[To read more of the review]

My book addiction and more…
January 29, 2011

“THREADS WEST by Reid Lance Rosenthal is a western romance fiction set in 1855 America. It is the first in a six novel series of the romance of America. It is written with depth, details and action packed. It is fast paced and will keep you turning the pages from start to finish. It has despair, faith, spirit, heartbreak, turbulent times, romance, adversity, passion and triumph. The characters are charming, intriguing, and believable.
(Read the entire review here)

The Book Tree
March 07, 2011

“Threads West can be compared to Lonesome Dove, yet it is a story of the west that has its own individuality. The characters are diverse and complex, and the writing is divine. I have never been a fan of books set in the American West time period, but this book has turned that around.”
(Read the entire review here)

Once Upon a Twilight
February 09, 2011

“This sets the series up and we get introduced to the characters. The timeline is in the 1850’s and it’s about several immigrants that come together on a ship to the United States. You learn as to why each of them must leave their home country and make that long journey to beginning a new life.”
(Read the entire review here)

My Four Monkeys
January 21, 2011

“I’ve always been fan of a good western, and mix western and romance and I’m hooked. Recently, I got the chance to read Threads West: An American Saga. It’s book one in a new series of six books from Reid Lance Rosenthal. They say you write what you know, and in that case… I would say the Rosenthal has lived and loved the American West!
(Read the entire review here)


Threads West, An American Saga Series now honored with Twenty Four National Awards!
A Sweep of the Major Categories!

The Threads West series is the proud recipient of Twenty Four national awards as of the date of this printing, including Best Book of the Year award or Finalist (runner-up) designations in the categories of Western, Historical Fiction, Romance, West/Mountain Regional Fiction and Design! Thank you readers, and USA Book Review Awards, Next Generation Indies Awards, Independent Book Publishers Association—IBPA, Forward National Literature Award, International Book Awards, and Independent Publisher Book Awards (IPPYs).

Benjamin Franklin Award SymbolIBA award National Literature Award logo color

A Sweep of the Major Categories!

~Winner (BEST) Western (2014) International Book Awards

~Winner (BEST) Historical Fiction (2014) eLit Awards

~Winner (BEST) Western 2010 & 2012 (USA Book News Awards)

~Winner (BEST) Historical Fiction 2013 (USA Book News Awards)

~Winner (BEST) Romance 2013 (USA Book News Awards)

~Winner (BEST) Romance 2011 (Next Generation Indies Awards)

~Winner (BEST) Historical Fiction 2011 (IBPA)

~Winner (BEST) Design 2011 (IBPA-Ben Franklin Awards)

~Silver Medalist (BEST) Regional Fiction 2013/West/Mountains (IPPYs)

~Silver Medalist (BEST) Historical Fiction 2013 (IBPA-Ben Franklin Awards)



~Finalist—Historical Fiction 2014 (USA Book News Award)

~Finalist—Maps of Fate Multicultural 2014 (USA Book News Award)

~Finalist—Uncompahgre Multicultural 2014 (USA Book News Award)

~Finalist—Romance 2014 (USA Book News Award)

~Finalist—Romance 2011 (Forward National Literature Awards)

~Finalist—Romance 2011 (Forward National Literature Award)

~Finalist—Romance 2011 & 2014 (International Book Awards)

~Finalist—Western 2014 International Book Awards

~Finalist—Multicultural 2014 (International Book Awards)

~Finalist—Romance 2010 (USA Book News Awards)

~Finalist—Historical Fiction 2012 (USA Book News Awards)

~Finalist—Cover Design 2013 (Next Generation Indies Awards)

160_Winner_Sticker_Webemblem_IPAwards2 National Literature Award logo



#2 Bestselling paperback overall (of over 811,000 active titles),
#17 Bestselling, paper/hard cover overall
(of over  960,000 active titles Nov. 16 and Dec. 26)
#1 Mover/Shaker and #2 “Flying Off the Shelves” (most active book)

#1 Bestselling  WESTERN, Women of the West, Pioneers & Homesteaders, Family Saga and Historical Western;

#1 Bestselling Historical Fiction;

#1 Bestselling Romance, Historical Romance, Western  Romance.
Top 2-8% of Kindle sales – 850,000 titles
Top 1 – 3% NOOK – 2 Million titles

During its’ first two days (Oct. 12-13) of release, Threads West rose to #173 in overall Amazon sales, #1 in Movers and Shakers, #82 in hottest new releases and based on the numbers we had received (excluding kindle sales) ACHIEVED the #1Top Selling printed book in Western, Western Romance, Historical Western Romance and Historical Western. And all of that occurred with the Amazon Threads West site down and no sales for nine hours mid-day on October 12! Remarkable!
Thank you Threads West Readers! Thank you!

Bestseller Stats

OVERALL RANKINGS ACHIEVED (October 12, Nov. 16/17 and Dec. 24, 2010-Jan. 2, 2011)
#17 OVERALL titles (970,000+ titles)
#2- #3 Paperback (812,300+ titles)
#6- #3 Overall Fiction (223,000+ titles)
#2- #3 Overall Fiction Paperback (129,000+ titles)
#1- #2 Romance, #1 Western, #1 Historical Romance, #1- #2 Historical Fiction
#2 Flying off the shelves (most active books)

OVERALL RANKINGS–Week ended January 22–14 weeks after release!
#163-3267 Range OVERALL titles (970,000+ titles)
#69-1520 Paperback (812,300+ titles)
#82-2371 Overall Fiction (223,000+ titles)
#43-1389 Overall Fiction Paperback (129,000+ titles)

CATEGORIES–14 weeks after release–Threads West remains Top 100–Bestseller in the following major categories: Romance 21,400+ titles, Historical Romance–5,700+ titles, Historical Fiction 14,400+ titles, and #2-5 Western–3700+ titles

GENRES–14 weeks after release
Threads West remains #1 Bestseller in the following Genres: Western-Pioneers and Homesteaders, Western-Family Saga, Historical Romance, Historical Western Romance, Western Romance, Frontier Romance, Historical Western, and #2 in Western-Women of the West

NOOK Bestseller in Romance, Western, Historical Fiction, Historical Romance and 6 genres–sales ranking overall averaging top 1/3-1/2 of one percent of 2 million titles!!


A Sweep of the Major Categories!
~Winner (BEST) Western 2010 (prestigious USA Book News Awards)
~Winner (BEST) Romance 2011 (coveted Next Generation Indies Awards)
~Winner (BEST) Historical Fiction 2011 (renowned IBPA-Independent Book Publishing Association)
~Winner (BEST) Design 2011 (renowned IBPA-Independent Book Publishing Association)

~Finalist—Romance 2011 (International Book Awards)
~Finalist—Romance 2010 (USA Book News Awards)
~Finalist—Cover Design 2011 (Next Generation Indies Awards
(Rockin SR Publishing thanks Tamara Dever of TLC Graphic Design)

Bestselling status (fluctuates–top 100 titles) off and on Amazon/three genres and Western Category. Kindle sales in top 2-6% of all kindle (800,000+ titles).

During its’ first two days (Oct. 12-13) of release, Threads West rose to #173 in overall Amazon sales, #1 in Movers and Shakers, #82 in hottest new releases and based on the numbers we had received (excluding kindle sales) ACHIEVED the #1Top Selling printed book in Western, Western Romance, Historical Western Romance and Historical Western. And all of that occurred with the Amazon Threads West site down and no sales for nine hours mid-day on October 12! Remarkable!

Thank you Threads West Readers! Thank you!

Audio Book



Threads West Book One Audio Mp3–6 hours, 23 minutes of that adventure and romance of America.

 So for those of you who want a collectors item (the CD’s read by lil’ole author, cowboy Reid Lance Rosenthal) now would be the time to lasso one!

Buy it on CD
Buy it on Amazon:

TW Audio thumbnail