Keeper of Enchanted Rooms (Whimbrel House, #1)

by Charlie N. Holmberg

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

“Chaos is disorder, but if something is already in chaos, then its disorder is order.”

Mr. Fernsby reeled back. “What? Who doesn’t read fiction? What else is there to read?” “Receipt books, histories, the newspaper—” “All of them hogwash, the last one most of all.”

He’d dug his graves for the loved ones torn away from him long ago, occasionally adding more soil to top them off.

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.

God knew he liked the sound of his Christian name on her lips.

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