Amelia Thornton

Dystopian, Mystery

I honestly never saw myself becoming a novelist - funny how life works out. For years, I was perfectly happy geeking out over antiques in London, putting together exhibitions and getting way too excited about old jewelry and furniture. But you know how sometimes you get an idea that just won't leave you alone? That's what happened with this wild story about a missing Victorian silversmith. Next thing I know, I'm writing my first book at 3 AM, surrounded by coffee cups and research notes. These days, I write mysteries from my flat in Bloomsbury (yes, very on-brand for a writer, I know). My partner James restores old buildings for a living, which means our dinner conversations usually revolve around things like "historically accurate window frames" and "the proper way to restore Victorian tiles." We're probably the only people you know who plan our vacations around visiting creepy old houses and poking around in dusty archives. Our dog Wilkie (total dachshund attitude, named after the author of "The Woman in White" because I'm that kind of nerd) supervises my writing process from his spot on the couch. When I'm not writing about murderous art restorers or missing museum artifacts, you can find me in my tiny garden, trying to keep my roses alive, or leading tours around London's weird little museums that nobody's heard of. I've got this slightly obsessive collection of antique keys that keeps growing - they just keep finding their way into my books somehow.