Book Excerpt Quotes

“The unkempt clapboard residence sported a copious amount of bare wood. Years of rain mixed with rust from metal window screens had stained the cladding at the corner of each opening, creating an illusion that the house was weeping bloody tears. Dead cottonwood trees looked on like silent mourners.”
― Kimber Silver, Bullets in the Briar

“Lincoln prowled the nearly empty streets as a sinking sun left touches of gold along the edges of feathery clouds that floated aimlessly in a late-summer sky.”
― Kimber Silver, Bullets in the Briar

“Light from an almost full moon bathed the flat expanse of land in a milky glow. A scraggly coyote trotted into sight, and when it stopped a few yards in front of his pickup, Lincoln wrapped his arms around the steering wheel to study the animal.
Seconds after hearing the report, bullets pinged off his pickup.”
― Kimber Silver, Bullets in the Briar

“Anyway… if you fly into Guatemala City, there’s a bus that can take us outside of town. It stops really close to the hills we need to cross in order to reach that little village I told you about. You remember? The one where those skinny kids eat beetles as big as—”

“—my feet. Yes, I remember.”

“Good. From there it’s just a simple hike through the rainforest to get to the temple.”

“Just a simple hike,” Daniel repeats. He deepens a serious frown.

“Well, maybe not simple. I guess the climate’s hot and you might need a machete to cut through some thicker vegetation. I’ll be looking out for snakes and stuff, though.”

Again, he grimly repeats my words. “Snakes and stuff. You mean stuff like jaguars and crocodiles and lizards and giant spiders and—”

“You don’t have to go.”

Daniel doesn’t hesitate. “Yes, I do.” He rises from the ground immediately. “Come on, I need to get home.”

I don’t argue with him or try to weaken his resolve because the very thought of entering that temple alone scares the bejeebers out of me. I’m seriously terrified of what might be lurking in the deepest, darkest rooms.”
― Richelle E. Goodrich, Phantom's Veil: A Search for Spells

“Before long, curiosity about our local law enforcement’s presence (perhaps also owing to phone calls made by Mrs. De Troyes) attracts a small crowd of observers to the normally deserted fishing hole. Hushed conversations take place as neighbors stand in small groups, hands folded across their chests, watching the police carry out a feeble search. My stomach aches at how Mr. De Troyes looks on the verge of tears when the officers go to leave.

“We’ll keep in touch,” one says with a nod. Then they drive off.

The crowd splits up at that moment as if collectively aware of exactly what needs to be done, understanding what a worried father needs to see happen. Husbands and wives, grandparents, kids, and even their dogs divide up into search parties to hunt for the missing girl. People step lightly through the switch grass, pushing blades aside—looking. Some walk in opposite directions along the shoreline with a shading hand at their eyes—looking. A few men wade into the lake at different points, feeling with their feet, some daring to dive in—looking. Others walk away from the scene, but their voices call out for Gwen—looking. All I can do is stand there and bleed inside, knowing without knowing that their good intentions are to no avail. Gwen is gone.

The horizon turns red, and I envision innocent blood smeared across my eyes. A black, starless night becomes a tomb under which I mourn bitterly.”
― Richelle E. Goodrich, Phantom's Veil: A Search for Spells

“This week I’ve been reflecting on a passage from my novel, The Time In Between:
‘Dreams don’t carry over calendars. They don’t leave behind the scent of sandalwood or the sound of applause echoing in the back of your mind. They don’t make you wake up wondering if you’ve left a version of yourself behind in another life.’

Have you ever had a dream that felt too real — like it belonged to another version of you? I’d love to hear your thoughts.”
― Val Chromos, The Time In Between

“It was adrenaline that took over, giving her the ability to continue. Her feet automatically obeyed his command, sprinting ahead despite how bleak their hope of escape appeared. There seemed no logic in believing the hill would offer any protection. Surrender looked like the only realistic hope for survival. Even if it was temporary survival.”
― Richelle E. Goodrich, Eena, The Dawn and Rescue

“The instant the rear door slid open, a monstrous-looking furball sprang out and jumped up on the captain’s chest. On hind legs the animal stood near identical to the man’s height. One sniff at the air turned the creature’s attention to Sevenah. The beast went right after her, bounding to the table on lion-like paws. She screamed and scrambled to the top of her chair.

The animal had a body shaped something like an earthly buffalo—a bulky chest, heavily-hunched shoulders, a thick neck—but on a smaller scale. The frightened girl screamed again, climbing onto the tabletop just as the hairy creature perched its front paws on her empty chair. It stretched its neck to examine her.

With nose in the air, it made a loud, awful howl. “Hhhrrroowwww!”

Dark eyes as big as saucers stared up from a face that was nothing but a thick mass of fur. The same long hair draped over the creature’s entire body, patched in browns and ivory with shadows of black and maroon. From the top of its head protruded two tiny horns positioned behind ears that spiked rigid with every curious sound. An oversized mouth spanned the width of its face, baring a lion's share of sharp teeth. The creature howled once again and then scrambled after its target, following her right onto the table.”
― Richelle E. Goodrich, Eena, The Dawn and Rescue

“I prepare to increase my concentration, figuring I ought to engross myself in this task as intensely as Daniel is engaged with his. Instructions come to me as if a tutoring sensei is speaking in my ear. It’s like in every sci-fi movie I’ve ever poked fun at with Daniel while lounging on his sofa.

“Clear your head. Let go of your doubts and fears. The power to move objects is yours; it is mind over matter. Feel it. Harness it. Imagine the pencil rising from the ground, suspended in the air until it’s drawn to you, drawn to your hand. See it you must! Believe it you must! Feel the force!”

I laugh out loud at the prune-faced Yoda that appears in my head. My outburst doesn’t disturb Daniel in the least; he’s doing a much better job of keeping focused.

A guilty conscience pushes me to try harder—which I do for what seems like a tremendous amount of wasted time. Staring bug-eyed at uncooperative pencils is pointless. What am I missing? The answer seems obvious—intense emotional incentive. But at the moment I don’t feel desperate or angry or afraid. Just severely bored out of my mind and guilt-ridden for feeling so mind-numbingly bored.”
― Richelle E. Goodrich, Phantom's Veil: A Search for Spells