Charlie N. Holmberg

A house of haunted history and ill temper. Make yourself at home in this beguiling novel of love, magic, and danger by Amazon Charts and Wall Street Journal bestselling author Charlie N. Holmberg.

Rhode Island, 1846. Estranged from his family, writer Merritt Fernsby is surprised when he inherits a remote estate in the Narragansett Bay. Though the property has been uninhabited for more than a century, Merritt is ready to call it home—until he realizes he has no choice. With its doors slamming shut and locking behind him, Whimbrel House is not about to let Merritt leave. Ever.

Hulda Larkin of the Boston Institute for the Keeping of Enchanted Rooms has been trained in taming such structures in order to preserve their historical and magical significance. She understands the dangers of bespelled homes given to tantrums. She advises that it’s in Merritt’s best interest to make Whimbrel House their ally. To do that, she’ll need to move in, too.

Prepared as she is with augury, a set of magic tools, and a new staff trained in the uncanny, Hulda’s work still proves unexpectedly difficult. She and Merritt grow closer as the investigation progresses, but the house’s secrets run deeper than they anticipated. And the sentient walls aren’t their only concern—something outside is coming for the enchantments of Whimbrel House, and it could be more dangerous than what rattles within.

Keeper of Enchanted Rooms

The sound of utter silence is one of my favorites.

Stephanie 

By the time he crossed a good portion of the Narragansett Bay and reached Blaugdone Island, he understood why no one had bothered to live there. It was vastly out of the way. There was something uncomfortable yet incredibly appealing about how out of the way it was. Because after the hired boat dropped off Merritt and the one bag he’d packed, he heard a beautiful thing. 

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

[…] but bruises had never killed him. None of it had ever killed him. 

Propping his elbows on his knees, he dropped his head into his palms. Focused on his breathing. In, out. In, out. He sat like that for a long time, trying to tamp down the anger and the hurt. Just when he thought it was finally done, that he was finally cured, it came bubbling up again. 

Something always brought it up, and he hated it, because it never hurt any less, even so many years later.

“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.”

Merritt wasn’t sleeping well. There were various reasons he wasn’t sleeping well. One being that he was too tired. Which sounded silly, but for whatever reason, if Merritt went to bed too sleepy, sleep tended to elude him. As though his brain had to stay awake to compensate for the weariness of his body.

“You’d be surprised at how liberating it is to destroy a straw dummy with a firearm.” It was a hobby he’d taken up after moving from Fletcher’s home. “Much cheaper than a medical professional.”

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

Keeper of Enchanted Rooms quotes

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