Keeper of Enchanted Rooms (Whimbrel House, #1)

by Charlie N. Holmberg

One thing was certain, as Silas carefully, joint by joint, pulled himself upright once more. No one would ever have power over him again.

melancholy things always made for great fiction. The coddled and content seldom told good stories.

“I am.” His voice was barely audible, but he knew the place heard it. “I’ve been lonely for a long time. Sure, I’ve had friends, colleagues, so I’m not isolated. But I still feel it. It’s the deep, lasting kind of loneliness. The hollow kind that settles in your bones.”

When he looked up, he saw a multicolored knitted scarf lying on the floor. And the shadows disappeared.

But Hulda was like picking up a book with no description, fanfare, or title and discovering it got better and better with each page turned. He wanted to know how her story would read. He wanted to reach the denouement, the end. And he wanted to see if she had a sequel.

“Have you ever wondered,” he followed up without missing a beat, “if we’re all characters in another’s book? If all of our actions, whims, thoughts, and desires are being controlled by some omniscient author?”

Being useful made her feel good about herself, regardless of all the nonsense and trepidation going on in her life.

Beauty is just like a book. Some will not bother to look beyond the cover; others will find the entire tome utterly captivating.”

the anxiety in waiting for something was often worse than the thing itself.

She didn’t need magic to see a bright and joyous future for the both of them.