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Emily Lloyd-Jones Books

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The Bone Houses

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Illusive

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“She thought of her hand in his, of gripping his worn fingers with her small ones. She thought of an old dead woman in a rocking chair, because her daughter couldn't bear to leave. She thought of the Otherking, leaving his home because he could not stay. And she thought of a mother, holding her dead child and the broken cauldron of rebrith. Her hand tightened araound the broken spoon and she let the jagged waves of grief wash over her.”

Grief
Book:The Bone Houses
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“Glad to see word reached you. I forgot my phone and somehow throwing pebbles at random windows seemed like a losing strategy." "My roommate thinks I'm running drugs," said Dee flatly. "And that you're my dealer." James blinked. "At least she thought I looked enterprising." "She said you looked homeless." James straightened the sleeves of his orange leather jacket. "It's vintage”

FunnyConversationHomelessDrugsDemonsHeartsLolVintageBruh
Book:The Hearts We Sold
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“Her heartbeat picks up, her pulse fluttering through her neck and wrists. She loves this part, loves the moment before she pulls off a job—the heat, the cold, the rush. It’s terrifying and delicious, like teetering out over the edge of a building, her fingers tight on the safety railing. She can see how everything could go horribly wrong, but that rational part of her is tamped down, silenced by the beauty of the fall.”

CriminalsYa LitTeen Lit
Book:Illusive
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