RIGHTS GUIDE FRANKFURT 2017 - Chicken House … · RIGHTS GUIDE FRANKFURT 2017. ... • Shades of classics such as Tom’s Midnight Garden and The Secret Garden, contemporary setting

RIGHTS GUIDE FRANKFURT 2017

Publication Date 1st February 2018

TINPádraig KennyChristopher is ‘Proper’: a real boy with a real soul, orphaned in a fire. He works for an engineer, a maker of the eccentric, loyal and totally individual mechanicals who are Christopher’s best friends. But after an accident, Christopher realizes he isn’t as Proper as he thought …

• A debut Irish talent storms on to the middle-grade scene with this heartfelt tale of humanity, adventure and belonging.

• Pinocchio meets The Wizard of Oz with a hint of Northern Lights as a boy and his mechanical friends discover the truth about his past.

• As well as being a fast-paced adventure, Tin is a thought- provoking and timely novel, with strong themes of friendship, war and what it really means to be human.

• A wonderful ensemble cast populates an alternative England of the 1930s.

Price: £6.99Pub Date: 1st February 2018CBMC code: D3N79Dimensions: 198x129 mmWord count: 70,000 (words approx.)

Binding: Paperback

ISBN: 978-1-911077-65-7eBook ISBN: 978-1-911490-09-8Age: 9+Illustrations: N/aExport: YesRights: World

CHICKEN HOUSE 01373 454488 www.chickenhousebooks.com

An extract from

TINPádraig Kenny‘One of my finest creations, Mrs Chapman. A very subtle mechanical approximation of humanity both in form and content. Jack can be a worker, a friend, a companion …’

Absalom paused as Mrs Chapman’s eyes widened.

‘… a son.’ She gave the smallest of whimpers. Mr

Chapman lowered his head and let out a plaintive ‘Ruth, please …’

Jack stepped closer, and Christopher’s heart lurched when he saw the look of agonized hope in Mrs Chapman’s eyes.

Absalom spread his arms wide: ‘As the snow falls think on this, how good and proper and right it would be to have a family together at Christmas. The putting up of the tree, the smiles, the anticipation, the scent of orange and spices in the air, the melodious comfort of carols. And who better to share all of this with than one’s own progeny, to be together as a family unit, bound by love, by joy, and the anticipation of a visit from Father Christmas himself?’

Absalom began to rapidly fire off his prices, outlining various options for renting or buying, in as casual a manner as possible. Christopher tried to dampen the hot sick feeling of anger he felt. He looked at Mrs Chapman’s eyes brimming with tears and hope and pain. Mr Chapman had his head bowed, as if he’d already surrendered to the inevitable.

Absalom’s voice was becoming more high pitched, as if he couldn’t believe what was about to happen. Christopher saw the hunger in his eyes and it filled him with disgust. Absalom’s nostrils were flaring as if he could smell money about to change hands.

It took one word to bring it all crashing down.

Later, when Christopher thought back on it, he would remember the feeling he’d had the day Jack had climbed to the top of the highest junk pile. His foot had slipped, and the whole thing had come cascading down like a great steel avalanche. Christopher remembered the look of shock in Jack’s eyes, and the terrible feeling that the crashing spilling sensation in his gut would never end. This felt just like that, only worse, and all it took was one word.

Jack had stepped forward with a hopeful smile on his face.

Just one word. ‘Mummy?’ he said. It was as if the very snow around Mr

Chapman had suddenly spun into a violent spinning vortex. Christopher wouldn’t have been surprised if every particle of air had condensed and sped towards Mr Chapman, like air crunching together after being split by lightning. Christopher had never seen rage like it.

‘No!’ Mr Chapman screamed. He kicked Jack full in the chest, and Jack

hurtled backwards into the snow, hitting the ground with a metallic clatter, almost sending his hair flying off his head.

Mr Chapman pulled his wife inside and slammed the door in Absalom’s face. In the silence, the snow hissed down around them.

CHICKEN HOUSE 2 Palmer Street, Frome, Somerset, BA11 1DS Tel: 01373 454488 www.chickenhousebooks.com

PÁDRAIG KENNYPádraig lives with his family in Ireland. He has a Master’s degree in Anglo-Irish Writing,

and has taught English literature and creative writing, worked as a freelance arts journalist, and written for radio and screen as a scriptwriter. Tin is his first novel.

@padraig_kenny

RIGHTS INFORMATION

WORLD RIGHTS AVAILABLE (EXCL FILM).

RIGHTS SOLD: Canada, USA

RIGHTS OPTIONED: Germany


Publication Date 5th April 2018

STORM-WAKELucy ChristopherMoss lives with her pa on a remote island. The Old World has disappeared beneath the waves – only Pa’s magic can save the sunken continents. But a huge storm is brewing, promising cataclysmic changes. Soon, Moss learns to open her eyes to the truth about her isolated world …

• From the author of the acclaimed and internationally prize- winning Stolen, published in 19 territories worldwide and over 30,000 copies sold in the UK alone.

• Inspired by Shakespeare’s The Tempest, Storm Wake is a gripping and immersive literary novel for young adults.

• Explores themes of transformation, illusion and dreaming.

Praise for STOLEN:

‘Beautiful.’ MAGGIE STIEFVATER

‘Tautly written and hard to put down.’ INDEPENDENT ON SUNDAY

Price: £7.99Pub Date: 5th April 2018CBMC code: E3N79Dimensions: 198x129 mmWord count: 70,000 (words approx.)

Binding: Paperback



An extract from

STORM-WAKELucy ChristopherFor Moss, storms had a smell: churned-up salt water and seaweed, damp wood on the tide, even the far-off burn of lightning … but this storm had something else. It was sweeter. Wilder. Moss pushed her hair sideways and looked up at the cliffs. Tiny pieces of colour were everywhere, as if the rocks held gemstones. She growled as her hair flew back in front of her face, tangling in a hundred different sailor’s knots.

But she’d seen right. Stormflowers. Opening.Again, she shoved her hair clear to see where the

flowers grew thickest, all around Pa’s cave. Wind was pulling their petals, rattling their stems. The storm’s sweetness was this. There were pink ones, white, others gold – petals floated from the rocks to settle on her shoulders. The flowers had never opened so much before. She heard a high-pitched singing sort of sound too. Pa’d always said the flowers would sing. When they wanted to. When they were ready.

She tried to see Pa at the cave entrance. Now she knew why he wasn’t down on the beach with her, exploring for wash-up. He was doing this. Somehow he’d opened the flowers, made them work!

She dropped the collecting pot and ran. Fast, fast, faster, leaping the sharp stones on that part of the beach. Quick, quicker, she skidded through their

camp, then took the well-used path up to the cave. She was huff-puffing before she’d got halfway. As she spread her arms wide so that she was almost touching the wild-moving pine trees, she was imagining how, later, beside the campfire, Pa would dance and sing and swirl her. Would tell stories ’till the fire went low, of the world where they had come from, of where they would go back to, one day. His smile would be broad beneath his bird-beak nose, his blue-grey eyes soft.

Now, she felt lighter. Now, she ran faster. She went quick-spinning and leaping beneath those petals, all swirling and falling. Until, flinching, she saw the sky smash.

‘Lightning,’ she whispered, savouring the word like a treasure. ‘Sky’s on fire.’

Was what Pa would say. She spread her arms wide ’till her wrists brushed the pine needles and she felt their cool zing.

Sky’s! On! Fire!She loved Pa’s sayings and how his voice tilted as

he spoke them; she liked to test how they felt in her mouth. A bigger, second flash came, but she didn’t lie flat on the ground like Pa had taught her and wait for it to pass. She stood still, feeling the wind claw, smelling the petals, hearing the sea moan above the reef. And, still, that singing—that high-pitched, sweet-pretty singing! From beyond the volcano, at very top-est of the island, she thought she heard the wild dogs howl in answer. Perhaps even the lizards hissed in their caves. Today, everything on the island cried out.

LUCY CHRISTOPHERLucy grew up in Australia, but now lives in Cardiff. She is the winner of the Branford Boase Award (UK), a Printz Honor

Award (USA), and has been shortlisted for the COSTA Award, the Waterstones Children’s Book Prize and the Prime Minister’s Literary Awards (Australia).

@lucycauthor

Photo by Rolf Marriott

RIGHTS INFORMATION

WORLD RIGHTS AVAILABLE (INCL FILM).

RIGHTS SOLD: Audio World English, Canada, USA

RIGHTS OPTIONED: Germany

Publication Date 4th January 2018

THE ICE GARDENGuy JonesJess is allergic to the sun. She lives in a world of shadows, peeking at the other children in the playground beyond her curtained house. One night, she sneaks out, exploring the empty playground she’s longed to visit. Beyond, she discovers a beautiful impossibility: a magical garden wrought of ice …

• We’re launching a startling debut talent into the middle-grade market in this classic-feeling magical-realist story, full of wonder and warmth.

• A tale of loneliness, friendship and the healing power of love, set between the real, contemporary world and a world of ice and magic – sure to capture the imaginations of readers.

• Shades of classics such as Tom’s Midnight Garden and The Secret Garden, contemporary setting yet utterly timeless in feel and theme.

Price: £6.99Pub Date: 4th January 2018CBMC code: D3N79Dimensions: 198x129 mmWord count: 40,000 (words approx.)

Binding: Paperback



An extract from

THE ICE GARDENGuy JonesWhen Jess was small her mother had arranged for the daughters of friends to visit and play, but as they’d become older they’d come less and less often. It was difficult to stay friends with the little girl who couldn’t go outside. The little girl who went to school in her kitchen. They must have come here, she thought. They must have played amongst the metal frames. But never in the dead of night the way Jess had to. The playground they had seen was not the same one Jess saw.

There was a noise. She came to a stop, listening hard. Nothing. There was nothing, and yet a drumbeat started up in the back of her head that sounded like there’s something wrong, there’s something wrong. Jess eased herself off the swing and peered at the narrow, tree-lined path that led to the main road above.

Nothing. She scanned around. There, she thought,

that second tree along. She traced its outline in her mind, mapping it to the shape cast on to the ground by the streetlights. Was there something there? Shadows crisscrossed each other and she couldn’t say for certain whether they suggested something hidden from sight.

There’s something wrong, went the drumbeat. Her neck prickled and she shivered

as if struck by a blast of freezing air.It could be anything. A fox or a rabbit.

Or a something. A something hiding and watching. That was enough for her – panic hit like breakers swamping a boat and she cast around for another way out. The playground was ringed by conifer trees, all crammed side-by-side, their branches entangled in a fierce embrace. She searched and found a slight gap that she could force her way through.

The sickly scent of the firs flooded her nose and mouth, as if the trees were shouting in their own language that there was an intruder in their midst. Dull green limbs scratched and prickled her skin. Even the dead needles carpeting the ground joined the struggle, shouting their protest with every crunch of her feet. She shielded her face and scooped branches out of the way, almost swimming through to the other side.

But there was no escape. Jess found herself in a narrow corridor with the trees at her back and an impenetrable laurel hedge in front. She imagined whatever was out there starting to cross the playground with heavy, wet steps; some dripping creature of the night.

She had to find a way through. She started along the corridor, shuffling like a crab until finally, gratefully, she found a gap in the hedge and on the other side of it a tarmac path. All she needed to do was go through and then run; run back to the road, through the town and into her bed.

She stepped through and into the impossible.


GUY JONESGuy was born in Botswana, grew up in Bedfordshire and now lives in St Albans. He spent a decade writing for the

theatre, including the West End musical Never Forget, before finally knuckling down to write a book. The Ice Garden is his first novel.

@guyjones80

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RIGHTS OPTIONED: Canada, Germany, USA


Publication Date 1st March 2018

ALICE DENT AND THE INCREDIBLE GERMSGwen LoweWhen Alice Dent gets a cold, she has no idea how much trouble it’s about to cause. Because this is no ordinary cold: it comes with some seriously extraordinary side-effects. But when the scary Best Minister for Everything Nicely Perfect tries to take her away, she realizes her troubles are only just beginning …

• Bursting with quirky charm and dark Dahl-esque humour; guaranteed to make you giggle!

• Written by debut Welsh author Gwen Lowe, who is Consultant in Communicable Disease Control for Public Health Wales.

• With its plucky heroine and dastardly villains, this book is perfect for younger fans of Dahl, Walliams, and The Demon Headmaster.

• Themes of friendship and fitting in are at the heart of the story.

Price: £6.99Pub Date: 1st March 2018CBMC code: C3N79Dimensions: 198x129 mmWord count: 40,000 (words approx.)

Binding: Paperback



An extract from

ALICE DENT AND THE INCREDIBLE GERMSGwen Lowe‘OPEN THIS DOOR NOW OR WE’LL BREAK IT DOWN!’

Alice shivered. What on earth was happening?At last Alice heard the click of the door opening.

Peering round the curtain, she saw that a chink of light from the hall had illuminated the scene below. She saw eight imposing figures, all wearing shiny silver protective suits and masks. Four of them carried a battering ram. That wasn’t the worst thing though. What really chilled her blood was that two others carried a long object; big enough to fit a person inside. From the way the light shone through it, it looked transparent.

‘Mr Dent?’ the voice was official, confident. ‘I’m afraid there’s a problem.’

‘Who are you?’ her dad demanded. ‘What do you want?’

‘We have orders from those in charge. We need to take Alice away.’

What? Alice’s stomach flipped over. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the see-through box. It was big enough for a grown-up; they could easily seal her inside …

‘Why? What’s wrong with her?’ asked Mrs Dent, leaning out from behind her husband. Alice saw

that she had put on gloves, two aprons, two pairs of overshoes, a face visor and a hairnet. Mrs Dent didn’t cope well with visitors.

The masked man leaned forward, dropping his voice.

Alice strained to listen. Only fragments floated up through the closed window.

‘Emergency … unexpected … result … dangerous … pie … we need … pie … Russ …’

It was that pie Russ again. But who was Russ? Or maybe they meant pie rust? She was OK then; she hadn’t had a pie in weeks. Or maybe they meant the number Pi – but so what?

Her thoughts were going round in circles. Alice concentrated on listening.

‘Take her away, right now. She’s certainly not staying here, that’s for sure,’ said Mr Dent, his voice squeaking with fear. ‘But you can’t come in; you’ll utterly ruin the carpets. We’ll send her out to you.’

They’re going to let them take me! Just like that! Alice was outraged and frightened at the same time. She didn’t know what to do.

Then the front door must have fully opened because light streamed out and bounced off the long black cars. As Alice watched, the beam illuminated the face of a man sitting motionless in the rear seat of the furthest car. He had eyes like hollow pits, but it was something else that transfixed her. In the slanting light, the man’s pale face looked like a perfect waxy mask.

Surely it can’t be him! thought Alice, studying it with increasing horror.

But it was. And as her legs began to buckle in terror, the

new Best Minister for Everything Nicely Perfect lifted his head and looked directly up at her.

GWEN LOWEGwen Lowe works as a public health doctor in Wales, which is a bit like being a medical

detective. Previously, she has worked as a hospital doctor and a GP, as well as a hotel washer-upper, a restaurant table cleaner and a postwoman. This is her first novel.

RIGHTS INFORMATION



Photo by Jonathan James


Publication Date 3rd May 2018

LEXI AND THE LIEEmma ShevahLexi lives in London with her colourful Greek Cypriot family. After the death of their grandmother, she tells a terrible, instinctive, jealous lie about an heirloom necklace, a lie that splits the family apart. It’s up to her to bring the family back together …

• Acclaimed author Emma Shevah’s third novel; her second book, Dara Palmer’s Major Drama, has been optioned for TV by CBBC.

• Astonishing critical success in the US – Emma has achieved six starred reviews.

• Emma’s stories champion diversity: Lexi and the Lie has a Greek-Cypriot family at its heart.

• With important themes of truth and lies, loyalty and betrayal, Lexi and the Lie is no simplistic morality tale, but a wonderful exploration of guilt and reconciliation for younger readers.

Praise for DARA PALMER’S MAJOR DRAMA:

‘Fresh, funny, fizzy and indomitable’ BOOKTRUST

Price: £6.99Pub Date: 3rd May 2018CBMC code: D3N79Dimensions: 198x129 mmWord count: 55,000 (words approx.)

Binding: Paperback



An extract from

LEXI AND THE LIEEmma ShevahFrom the minute you’re born, adults tell you that you must never ever ever lie and that honesty is the most important characteristic in the history of the universe. Which is weird because they tell us lies all the time. Like they tell us we’re almost there when we’re miles away, that they’re leaving without us if we don’t hurry up (but they never do), and that tooth fairies go around collecting our fallen teeth from under our pillows. And that’s just the beginning. At disaster moments, they sit you down, look at you sternly and say in a slow, serious voice, ‘I want you to tell me who it was who cut half your sister’s hair off/ trod chocolate cake into the carpet/ threw the hamster in the paddling pool, and you won’t get in trouble if you just tell the truth.’

But 1) That’s not true. And 2) They themselves lie all the time. No, really. They don’t think twice about telling

you all kinds of stuff. Lots of parents say that if you pull faces, the wind will change and you’ll stay like that forever. And that Santa has messengers. Ours is the robin in the garden. All year, my parents tell us that the robin’s watching our every move, and if we whinge or leave a mess, break our toys or don’t go to bed

exactly when they say, the robin will fly back to Lapland and tell Santa and we won’t get any presents. I hated robins for years because of that. I thought they were snooping little spies. I’m still suspicious of them even now.

As for my family, they’re all total liars. I mean, they don’t go around saying they play for Manchester United when they’re actually travel agents, or tell us we’re going to the Caribbean for the summer when they’ve just booked a campsite in Cornwall. But they do tell plenty of other lies.

Mum and Dad told us the global fairy price for teeth is £1 for small ones and £2 for molars, even though we knew some of our friends got double that. And if the fairies forget all about the tooth under your pillow – which happens nine times out of ten in my house – and you wake up in the morning with the tooth still sitting where some money should now be, they tell you to turn your head to the window and they stick their fist under it to check. They rummage around and suddenly, magically, the tooth has gone and the money appears. They insist it was there all the time, when you know it wasn’t because you checked ten times and your pillow isn’t even that big.

And then, to make it worse, if you ask why you only got a 50p and a couple of two pence pieces for a molar that was worth £2, they say that fairies don’t always have the right change on them because fairy banks close early.

See what I mean?

EMMA SHEVAHEmma is half Irish and half Thai. Her great-great-grandfather was King Rama I of Thailand, so by

all rights she should be living a life of ease and luxury in the tropics. Instead, she spends her days dashing around rainy North London writing, teaching English and raising four children.

@emmashevah

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RIGHTS SOLD: Canada, USA


BELOW ZERODan SmithTwelve-year-old Zak is plane-wrecked on an abandoned research outpost in the Antarctic with his sister and parents. Here, a series of nightmarish occurrences and bizarre visions suggest a link to something else – a presence beneath the ice – which only Zak can understand …

• A fresh and exciting no-holds-barred thriller by award-winning author Dan Smith.

• Centres on a trapped creature beneath the icy wasteland of Antarctica – a discovery unravelled only through non-stop action, sheer danger and heart-pounding uncertainty.

• Environmental and scientific themes underlie a plot which focuses on a protagonist with a life-threatening illness.

Praise for BOY X:

‘Intense, captivating, and distinctive.’ KIRKUS (USA)


Binding: Paperback



An extract from

BELOW ZERODan SmithThere were lights on all over the base, flooding the night. Flurries still twisted and swirled out there, but the worst of the storm had died down and visibility was better than before. The landing strip beacons shone up into the mist like giant yellow lightsabers. Zak counted fifteen lights on each side of the runway, and between the twelfth, Dima’s plane sat on the compacted ice, tilted forward as if it had lost its balance.

Zak put his face closer to the window and cupped his hands to block out the reflection from inside the ComHab. He squinted and stared at the plane, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. The front skid of the plane was missing; that’s why it was tilted forward like that. But that wasn’t the only thing wrong with it. Just like the MRV, it looked as if someone had taken a massive bite out of it. The cockpit was torn open and a jagged piece of metal the size of a garage door lay bent-up on the runway. Beside it were the pilot’s and co-pilot’s seats, torn from their fixings and tossed aside like they were nothing.

Zak blinked hard, like people do in films - like it will make everything go back to normal when they open their eyes - but when he looked again, there was no change. The plane was still wrecked.

Digging his phone from his pocket, he switched on the camera, held it against the window and zoomed in as far as it would go. Focusing on the cockpit of the plane, the picture was fuzzy but it was obvious

that the all the instruments were gone. All those switches that Dima had flicked, all those controls he had used, all those warnings that had flashed on and off, were gone. Not broken or smashed up; gone.

‘My God, what happened to that?’ May’s voice startled him and Zak turned to see her

standing right behind him. ‘I … don’t know,’ he said. ‘But it’s not going to fly us out of here, I’m pretty sure about that. It’s like someone doesn’t want us to leave.’

‘Doesn’t want us to – ugh. Now you’re really creeping me out.’ May frowned and turned back to the others. ‘Mum? Dad? You’d better come and see this.’

‘What is it, May, can’t you see we’re busy?’ Mum had finished with the Dermal Replicator and was inspecting Dima’s scar.

‘Seriously, you want to see this.’Dad’s expression darkened. ‘See what?’‘The plane,’ Zak said. ‘It’s the same as the Rover;

like something took a bite out of it.’‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Dad came over. ‘You’d better

not be—’ He stopped in his tracks when he saw it. ‘Oh my

God.’ Then Mum was coming over to see, and even Dima managed to get up and shuffle over to the window.

They stood in a line, looking at what was left of the aircraft.

‘Moy samolyet,’ Dima whispered. ‘My plane. This is not horrorshow. Not at all.’

Dad took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand before looking again. ‘What could have done that?’

‘Well, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t penguins,’ Dima said, then his knees buckled and he crumpled to the floor.


DAN SMITHGrowing up, Dan Smith lived three lives: the day-to-day humdrum of boarding school, finding adventure in the padi

fields of Asia and the jungles of Brazil, and in a world of his own, making up stories. He lives in Newcastle.

@dansmithauthor

RIGHTS INFORMATION

WORLD RIGHTS AVAILABLE.

RIGHTS SOLD: Germany

RIGHTS OPTIONED: Canada, USA

RECENT TITLES

Publication Date 4th January 2018 (REISSUED)

THE PECULIARSKieran LarwoodBy night, the Peculiars are a travelling sideshow, but during the day Sheba, Sister Moon and Monkey Boy put their unusual talents to use, solving the crimes no one else cares about. For the stolen children of London’s poorest, the Peculiars are their only hope.

• The debut novel by Kieran Larwood, winner of the Blue Peter Award 2017 and author of bestselling Podkin One-Ear.

• This stunning reissue brings new life to a wonderful story, previously published as Freaks in 2012, with a brand new cover design by the talented Karl Mountford.

• Winner of the Times/Chicken House Children’s Fiction Competition 2011, this is a richly imagined, exciting and darkly funny mystery set in the grime of Victorian London.

‘… reminiscent of Philip Pullman’s immortal Sally Lockhart books.’ THE TIMES


Binding: Paperback



An extract from

THE PECULIARSKieran Larwood Sheba gazed through her tiny window to the seaside view beyond. It was a beautiful summer morning. The sounds of the beach drifted in and she closed her eyes to hear them better. Children splashing and laughing. The cries of gulls. She could smell the tang of fresh seaweed. Her mind drifted down to the sand and pebbles below. She could almost feel the waves lapping around her toes and the sun on her face, almost taste the salt on her lips.

But such things were not meant for her, and dreaming about them only made it worse. Sheba gave a deep sigh and ran her ivory comb through her chestnut-brown curls, taking out the tangles. She always took great care of her locks, brushing and combing to keep them shining.

Everyone said she had a lovely head of hair. And face of hair. And hands of hair. In fact, she was covered from head to foot. It wasn’t all the same, of course. Her face and body had a fine, fair coating that might be mistaken for tanned skin, from a distance. She could even pass for normal in a crowd, if it wasn’t for her other peculiarities.

Her eyes were a deep amber colour; in a certain light they even seemed to have an orange glow. She had a pink, hairless nose – like a puppy – and small, sharp, white teeth. Her hands were tipped with nails that looked more than a little like claws. But when she was frightened or angry or excited, her nose puckered into a snout, her eyes flashed, her skin bristled, and she had even been known to growl. ‘Sheba the Wolfgirl’ was what everyone called her then, and she hated it beyond all hatred.

The hair and teeth were the first things people noticed, but they weren’t the most interesting. She was actually an exceptional girl. Her sense of smell was prodigious; she could follow a trail like a bloodhound and read scents like the pages of a book. She had learnt the mechanics of a range of locks, and was able to open almost anything with a couple of old hairpins she had scavenged on the pier. And by the age of five she had taught herself to read from scraps of newspaper and chalk billboards. She would have read much more, but it was quite difficult to pop into the local library when you were covered in thick fur and worked as an exhibit in a seaside freak show. And that was where she had spent every waking moment of every long day for as long as she could remember.


KIERAN LARWOODKieran Larwood is the author of Podkin One-Ear, winner of the Blue Peter Book Award

2017. His first novel The Peculiars (formerly known as Freaks) was the winner of the Times/Chicken House Children’s Fiction Competition 2011. He lives on the Isle of Wight.

@kmlarwood

RIGHTS INFORMATION

WORLD RIGHTS AVAILABLE (EXCl FILM).

RIGHTS SOLD: ANZ, Audio World English, Canada, Germany, Hungary, The Netherlands, USA


WINNER OF THE BIG IDEA COMPETITION

THE FANDOMAnna Day from an idea by Angela McCann

Cosplay ready, Violet and her friends are at Comic Con. Catapulted by freak accident into their favourite world, can they put the plot back on track and get out? The fate of the story is in their hands.

• A fast-paced, genre-flipping YA fantasy adventure which finds fans stuck in the world of their favourite fandom – for real.

• Debut author Anna Day, shortlisted for the Times/Chicken House Children’s Fiction Competition, finds her perfect match with The Big Idea competition winner Angela McCann.

• A fabulous new author, writing in homage to the best YA fiction; a thrillingly clever story-within-a-story.

• Pre-empted publishing deals already in five countries: France, Italy, USA, Canada and Germany.

Price: £7.99Pub Date: 4th January 2018CBMC code: E3N79Dimensions: 198x129 mmWord count: 80,000 (words approx.)

Binding: Paperback




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RIGHTS SOLD: Audio World English, Australia, Brazil, Czech Republic, Canada, China, Denmark, Estonia, France, Germany, Israel, Italy, Lithuania, The Netherlands, Norway, Poland, Portugal, Romania, Russia, Spain (World Spanish), Sweden, Tur-key, USA

An extract from

THE FANDOMAnna DayI know what it is before I see it. A grenade. They’re re-enacting the opening scene from the film. It launches over the crowd, hovering for a moment like a black bird of prey. Then, a loud clack fills the coliseum. Hundreds of white thistle seeds disperse into the air, floating upwards and outwards like scraps of down. I hear the odd gasp, the crowd pointing to the sky, tracking the seeds with their gaze.

‘This is amazing,’ my brother Joey says. ‘A thistledown grenade, just like the canon.’

The drum roll stops. Silence. The crowd remains captivated, their flawless chins lifted skywards. This is the moment in the film when the Imp Rebels appear, releasing their smoke bombs and storming the stage, liberating the condemned Imps from the gallows. The heroine, Rose – played by Julia – slips away unseen. Just melts back into the grey of the Imp city, having proved her worth as an Imp Rebel.

I hold my breath, awaiting the battle cry.But instead I hear my friend Katie, screaming

at the top of her lungs. ‘Julia! Julia! Are you OK?’The guards swivel in their podiums, alerted

to Julia’s presence, guns cocked and aimed. Julia turns and a strange expression grips her face, a hybrid of acceptance and determination. The sound of gunfire ruptures my skull and

a series of red dots spread across her tunic, merging into one large splotch. She glances at her abdomen – a bemused smile gripping her rosebud mouth – and begins to topple. Her slender hands whirl before her, grasping for an invisible man, but she falls through the air like a doll, her hair streaming behind her like a black cape.

She smacks the paving, inhuman and lifeless. A sack of grit. I watch as the life leaks from her, two ruby butterfly wings unfolding across the concrete.

It seems so real. I’m about to jump from the plinth, about

to run to her, when another sound grabs my attention. The sound of nine trapdoors flying open. Joey grabs my hand with his, so hard it hurts. And I know what I’m expecting to see, I know I should just look away. But I can’t. I can’t. Nine bodies fall, nine pieces of rope snap straight and taut, and nine sets of Imperfect legs kick and twirl. The man with the bruised forearms, the woman with the bloodshot eyes, the girl with the fused jaw – all of them – dancing their final dance.

Instinctively, my gaze flicks to Katie. She stands, frozen, her knuckles bleached and ragged as she clutches her face. Next, I find my best friend, Alice, her painted mouth ajar, her eyes loaded with tears. And I can still feel Joey, crushing my hand, tugging at the fabric of my tunic like he’s five.

And I know we share only one thought:We’re not in cosplay any more.

ANNA DAYAnna lives in the north-east of England and works as a clinical psychologist. In 2015

she was shortlisted for the Times/Chicken House Children’s Fiction Competition with her novel The Gallows Dance, the world which provided the inspiration for The Fandom.


Publication Date 2nd November 2017

WITCHBORNNicholas BowlingThe world Alyce lives in is divided. Two queens, two religions, two visions for the future of the nation. But another war rages: a secret war of the supernatural, in which good and evil are frequently blurred, and nobody’s motives can be trusted. Fleeing to London with a witchfinder on her trail, Alyce discovers her own dark magic and finds herself embroiled in the struggle. The fate of the country rests on her shoulders …

• A dark, twisty and thrillingly original Elizabethan fantasy by debut author Nicholas Bowling, an arresting new talent in children’s fiction.

• Explores true history through a fantastical lens, building a remarkable alternate universe with strong series potential.

• Themes of friendship, perseverance and death.

Price: £6.99Pub Date: 2nd November 2017CBMC code: E3N79Dimensions: 198x129 mmWord count: 70,000 (words approx.)

Binding: Paperback



RIGHTS INFORMATION


RIGHTS SOLD: Canada, Germany, Romania, Spain, Turkey, US Audio, USA

An extract from

WITCHBORNNicholas BowlingSomething was wrong. The roaring and booing of the crowd had stopped. The press of bodies had parted, and walking towards the stage were two men dressed in black.

At least, she assumed they were both men. The figure who caught her eye first moved spectrally, more floating than walking, and wore a nightmarish, bird-like mask under a broad-brimmed hat.

But the second man frightened her even more. This man looked healthy, looked handsome. And that was the unsettling thing, for she knew he was dead. She knew, because she had been the one who’d killed him – a knife in the back while he had stood triumphantly over the entrance to her mother’s cellar.

The townsfolk watched in bewildered silence as the pair mounted the stage. Out of the corner of her eye, Alyce could see Solomon desperately trying to force himself to the front. And behind everyone, her stooped posture unmistakeable, she glimpsed Martha skulking away between the market stalls.

The little snake … ‘Gentlemen and ladies,’ said the handsome, dead

man, his voice every bit as commanding as Vitali’s, but with none of the warmth. ‘I beg you, put away your purses. Avert your eyes. Stop your ears. Turn away and never come back. For this foul pair – I swear it by Almighty God – desire payment not only in your coin, but in your very souls.’

The audience’s faces were blank, unsure of what

to think or to say, waiting to find out whether this was a genuine interruption or just another contrived piece of Vitali’s theatre. Vitali himself, oddly, was still smiling; but it was a vacant smile, now, as though something had broken in his brain.

‘My Lord,’ he said, ‘if you are not convinced by my craft ...’

The dead man laughed. ‘Your craft? You flatter yourself, Signor. You are a trickster, a charlatan like every other man of your kind. Your only skill is in deceiving other people in to thinking that you have a craft.’

Vitali spluttered with indignation. The crowd murmured. Somebody shouted in agreement, and others began to join in. For Alyce it was horribly familiar – she was back in Fordham, crouched in her mother’s cellar, listening to the witch-finder work his audience in exactly the same way.

How is he still alive? ‘No, your tricks are the least of our worries. This

girl, however ...’ He finally turned to look directly at her, although his words were directed at the townspeople. Alyce stared back, and saw nothing behind his black eyes. ‘She really does have a craft. One that is strange and terrible. Try as she might to conceal it under this manly apparel, this creature who comes before you is a foul—’

A black blur suddenly flew into the pair of them, and the scaffold shook with the weight of somebody falling upon it. Somebody screamed. Alyce shut her eyes. It was a few seconds before she opened them again and realized what had happened.

The dead man was no longer standing in front of her, but prostrate on the stage, his feathered hat rolling away into the dirt. The raven was on top of him, savaging his neck and face.

NICHOLAS BOWLINGNicholas Bowling is an author, stand-up comic, musician and Latin teacher from

London. While writing Witchborn, he has also performed a solo show at the Edinburgh festival, and has co-written, recorded and released an album and two EPs. Witchborn is his first novel.


WINNER OF THE BIG IDEA COMPETITION

SKY CHASERSEmma Carroll from an idea by Neal Jackson

Magpie witnesses a strange spectacle above the streets of Paris: a boy suspended in the air. It ends in disaster – even so, Magpie is enthralled by the idea of flying. But others, too, are determined to discover Montgolfier’s secrets …

• A rich and inspirational story based on the true story of the first hot air balloon flight over Paris in the eighteenth century.

• Themes of friendship, imagination, science and bravery.

• Winner of the Big Idea Competition, chosen as unanimous winner by the judges: Tess Daly, Neil Blair, Barry Cunningham, Philip Ardagh and theatre producer Sonia Friedman.

• Stunning cover art by award-winning artist David Litchfield.

• Major publicity campaign, led by PR powerhouse Riot Communications.


Binding: Paperback




An extract from

SKY CHASERSEmma CarrollAll at once, the ground fell away. We lifted up. And up again. My stomach went skywards and suddenly I was running on air. The rope gave a short, sharp jerk. The wrench to my arm was unbearable. All I could do was grab hold with both hands. The ground was some feet below us now. My insides bobbed like a cork on a pond. Terrified, I screwed my eyes tight shut. The rope kept jerking and flexing. Then came a massive lurch.

My eyes flew open in terror. ‘I can’t …’ the boy gasped, ‘… can’t hold on …’ ‘Yes, you can,’ I said through gritted teeth. And he looked almost surprised. Then he let

go. He landed on the grass some ten feet below. Without his weight the bag rose higher. In that moment the wind grew slack. From my strange vantage point I saw the top of the wigged man’s head as he bent over the boy.

‘Pierre? Say something. Are you all right?’ His voice sounded oddly clear. The boy groaned but managed, with help, to sit upright. That was all I saw. The wind rose once more, carrying me onwards. Upwards.

Clinging on to that rope for dear life, my eyes stayed open. They were fixed that way now – all of me was paralyzed by fear. What’d happened to that poor boy would, at any moment, repeat itself with me. By now though, I’d gone a fair bit higher.

In fact, I was drifting level with a nearby barn roof. Falling from this height would more than hurt. I’d never survive it. The ground would rush up to meet me and then … THUD. I’d be dead. All I could do now was pray it wouldn’t hurt and that my end would be swift.

This way of thinking had the strangest effect; instead of being more scared, I began to feel it less. A strange calmness spread through me. Provided I didn’t think about the falling part, the view from up here was really quite magnificent.

The wind had carried me over the barn roof and beyond. I’d crossed another field, more hedges, a stand of bare trees. Though my arms ached more than ever, I was getting used to that bobbing, weightless feeling and it was, I thought, almost rather nice. Though I barely noticed either: there was too much else to distract me. It was a marvel I’d remembered to breathe.

Seen from up here, the world looked so different. It wasn’t a mean, filthy place where there was never enough to eat. This world was like gazing in at a toyshop window. Or waking up to find a magic spell had been cast across the land. Everything was smaller. Sweeter. Cows in the fields weren’t smelly, hulking beasts but miniature, mouse-sized things. The river that wound its way out of town was as smooth as glass. The prickly-looking treetops made me think of artichokes. Stood just beyond the trees was a man staring up at me. He was a puppet, I decided, harmless and kind. And I imagined myself a bird, looking down on all these things, wondering if I’d ever grow bored of their loveliness.

I didn’t get the chance.

RIGHTS INFORMATION



EMMA CARROLLEmma Carroll is the acclaimed author of Frost Hollow Hall, The Girl Who Walked On Air,

and In Darkling Wood. The Sky Chasers is her first novel for Chicken House. She lives in the Somerset hills with her husband and two terriers.

@emmac2603


Publication Date 3rd August 2017

FRESHERSTom Ellen & Lucy Ivison Uni beckons. Phoebe can’t wait, especially since her crush from school will be there. But Luke’s oblivious, still reeling from the fallout of the break-up with his ex. Thrown head first into a world of new friends, parties and social media disasters – can Phoebe and Luke survive the year, let alone find each other?

• The new YA novel from the YA Book Prize-shortlisted authors of Lobsters and Never Evers.

• A warm, hilarious and perfectly observed coming-of-age comedy about the first year of uni; a must-read for new freshers!

• Showcasing Tom and Lucy’s trademark dual narrative, the story tackles hugely relevant themes such as sex, relationships and social media with humour and realism.

Praise for LOBSTERS:

‘… frank, funny and honest.’ OBSERVER

‘… hilarious, awkward and totes realistic’ COMPANY

Price: £7.99Pub Date: 3rd August 2017CBMC code: E3N79Dimensions: 198x129 mmWord count: 85,000 (words approx.)

Binding: Paperback



RIGHTS INFORMATIONAn extract from

FRESHERSTom Ellen & Lucy Ivison‘Welcome to Quidditch Soc,’ said the incredibly thin boy. ‘I’m Brandon, I’m the co-captain, and this is Misty, the other co-captain. We decided not to have a vice because we are both equally important.’

‘Misty and Brandon,’ Negin mouthed. I nodded. ‘Brandon sounds like someone who rides

dirt bikes in California. And Misty, Misty sounds like …’‘A stripper.’ We all whispered it at exactly the

same time and in unison it became audible. Frankie coughed loudly to try and cover it up.

The door creaked and I finally felt my tummy relax. I turned to speak to Negin so it didn’t look like I had just been waiting for him. But after a few seconds I turned around and realized that none of the people who had just walked in were Luke. I clamped a smile back on my face and tried to look normal.

‘Sorry, we didn’t know whether to come in,’ a girl with long blonde hair was saying. Next to her was a stunningly attractive boy with glasses and masses of black curly hair. He was really tanned and was wearing a black polo neck.

Frankie made a quiet howling sound. ‘Luke Taylor is insanely hot. Well done you.’

‘That’s not him.’ I tried to sound offhand but my voice came out flat.

‘Well, would he do?’ Frankie whispered. ‘Because oh my actual God.’

We all looked at the curly haired boy and he smiled. ‘I’m gonna slouch to look smaller.’ Frankie

bent her knees slightly. She shuffled closer to me with her knees still bent. ‘Are you OK?’ she asked. Her face softened and it was like for the first time she wasn’t joking around. ‘Whoever this Luke Taylor is, he obviously doesn’t appreciate the importance of Quidditch.’

‘Or punctuality,’ Negin said, darkly. He wasn’t coming. Whichever way you looked at it,

it was a dick thing to do. I felt like such an idiot. ‘It’s fine,’ I said. ‘It’s just weird because this whole

thing was his idea. He seemed really into it.’ Frankie put her extremely long arms around me.

‘I find boys in general very perplexing,’ she said, matter-of-factly. ‘From now on, sisters before misters. But obviously if Luke Taylor turns up late you can ditch us.’

I laughed, and the skinny boy at the front started talking again.

‘You are all now part of our Quidditch family,’ he said. ‘We are the York Boggarts.’

Negin couldn’t suppress a smirk, but Frankie whooped loudly.

‘Right,’ said Misty, and everyone went quiet. ‘Firstly, I can’t emphasize enough that the real life sport of Quidditch differs vastly from the sport of Quidditch you have encountered in the Harry Potter novels. We do not actually fly in this version of the sport. The York Boggarts are part of the varsity league. Last year we finished bottom of the first division, which, I won’t lie to you, was a blow. It is really encouraging to see so many new faces here this evening. The Leeds Obliviators are our main threat this season. But I am confident that with regular attendance at training we can turn into their worst fear, and obliviate them.’

TOM ELLEN & LUCY IVISONTom Ellen and Lucy Ivison met in the sixth

form and have been friends ever since. Lucy runs online teen magazine Whatever After, as well as teaching in girls’ schools across London. Tom is a journalist and has written for ShortList, Time Out, talkSPORT, Vice, ESPN and Viz.


RIGHTS SOLD: Canada, Germany, Poland, USA

RIGHTS OPTIONED: Czechia, Denmark, France, Hungary, The Netherlands, Romania, Turkey, World


Publication Date 5th May 2016

THE GIRL OF INK & STARSKiran Millwood HargraveWhen Isabella’s friend disappears, she volunteers to guide the search party. As a mapmaker’s daughter, she’s equipped with elaborate ink maps and knowledge of the stars, eager to navigate the island’s forgotten heart. But beneath the mountains a legendary fire demon awakens, and her journey is fraught with danger …

• A beautifully written and lyrical story of friendship, discovery, myths and magic – perfect for fans of Philip Pullman, Frances Hardinge or Katherine Rundell.

• Set in an extensive and stunningly-imagined parallel world imbued with magical realism.

• Author is an award-winning poet, with her first collection published at the age of just twenty.

Price: £6.99Pub Date: 5th May 2016CBMC code: D3N79Dimensions: 198x129 mmWord count: 50,000 (words approx.)

Binding: Paperback

ISBN: 978-1-910002-74-2eBook ISBN: 978-1-910655-58-0Age: 10+Illustrations: N/aExport: YesRights: World (excl. USA & CAN)


RIGHTS INFORMATION

WORLD RIGHTS EXCLUDING USA AND CANADA AVAILABLE.

RIGHTS SOLD: Audio UK and British Commonwealth, Australia, Czech Republic, France, Iran, Italy, New Zealand, Poland, Portugal, Romania, Russia, Turkey, USA, Vietnam, World Spanish

An extract from

THE GIRL OF INK & STARSKiran Millwood HargraveAround me, shutters were being drawn over windows, doors pulled closed despite the still cool morning air. My legs were used to the journey, but not at this pace and not when my lungs were squeezed tight with fear. When I did reach our door, I could barely breathe.

I stopped at the threshold even though the door was wide open. The same thing that had driven me up the hill was now holding me back.

‘Da?’ Nothing. I stepped forward.‘Da!’ The sunlight sent patterns whirling across

my eyes in the gloom. I blinked them back. He was not in the main room. It appeared the

same as when I left; the bowl of burnt oats uneaten atop its bed of maps. The walls swayed lightly. Only the sky blue jug was gone, and peering into the kitchen I saw it had been washed and left to dry on the windowsill. My body uncoiled slightly. Da would just have forgotten to eat, or to tidy up anything except the precious jug.

I heard a rustle from the study and relief filled me like air. That was typical of Da, too busy with work to hear me. I drew in a shaky breath. He probably wouldn’t even know what was going on outside. I crossed to the thick curtain and pulled it aside.

‘Hello?’

I let the heavy material drop. The shutters were open, letting through a breeze that lightly lifted the papers covering Da’s desk. This must have been what I heard, because his stool was empty. Staining the parchment on the desk was something dark and irregular.

I walked closer, my chest winding tight again. The stain rippled slightly in the breeze, and, unable to stop myself, I reached out to it. It was wet. I felt the room spooling away. My fingers were stained red.

My mind filled with dark, and was gone.We are all of us products of our surroundings.That was Da’s voice.Each of us carries the map of our lives on our

skin, in the way we walk. Why was he speaking like that, cold, slow?My limp shows that I am a stupid old man who

can’t stay out of trouble. Why couldn’t I move? The ground was fire

beneath my palms.My laughter lines show I have been loved. See

here, how my blood runs not blue at my wrist, but black?

Why could I hear myself laughing? My chest was pressed to the burning hot ground. I could barely inhale, let alone laugh. And why did I know exactly what he was going to say next?

Really it’s because of the thickness of my skin, but your mother always said it was ink. I am a cartographer through to my heart.

Suddenly Da was ahead of me, through a dark channel of houses that swayed in the wind like trees. Now they were trees, and Da was reaching out.

A cartographer through to my heart.

KIRAN MILLWOOD HARGRAVEKiran was born in London in 1990 and studied at both

Cambridge and Oxford University. She is an award-winning poet, with three collections published. She currently lives in Oxford. The Girl of Ink and Stars is her first novel.

@kiran_mh

Publication Date 4th May 2017

THE ISLAND AT THE END OF EVERYTHINGKiran Millwood HargraveAmi lives on Culion, where some of the inhabitants – including her mother – have leprosy. She loves her home - but then islanders untouched by sickness are forced to leave. Desperate to return, Ami finds a strange and fragile hope in a colony of butterflies. Can they lead her home before it’s too late?

• The hotly anticipated second novel from the author of the bestselling The Girl of Ink & Stars, previously Waterstones’ Children’s Book of the Month.

• An irresistibly poetic, bittersweet and heartbreaking tale of a girl finding her way home.

Praise for THE GIRL OF INK & STARS:

‘Gripping, enjoyable … beautifully written’ MALORIE BLACKMAN

‘… holds you like a labyrinth and won’t let you go’ EMMA CARROLL

Price: £6.99Pub Date: 4th May 2017CBMC code: D3N79Dimensions: 198x129 mmWord count: TBCBinding: Paperback

ISBN: 978-1-910002-76-6eBook ISBN: 978-1-911077-47-3Age: 10+Illustrations: N/aExport: YesRights: World (excl. USA & Can)


An extract from

THE ISLAND AT THE END OF EVERYTHINGKiran Millwood HargraveThere are some places you would not want to go.

Even if I told you that we have oceans clear and blue as summer skies, filled with sea turtles and dolphins, or forests lush with parrots that call through air thick with warmth. Even if you knew how beautiful the quiet here is, clean and fresh as a glass bell ringing. The people here are kind and we all know each other’s names.

But nobody comes here because they want to.

You travel on horse or by foot, then on a boat from your home. The men who row it cover their noses and mouths with cloths stuffed with herbs so they don’t have to share your breath. They will not help you into the boat although your head aches and two weeks ago your legs began to hurt, and then numb. Maybe you stumble towards them, and they duck. They’d rather you rolled over their backs and into the sea than touch you. You sit and clutch your bundle of things from home, what you saved before it was burned. Clothes, a doll, some books, letters from your mother.

Somehow, it is always dusk when you

approach. The island moves from a dark dot to a green

heaven on the horizon. High on a cross-topped cliff that slopes towards the sea are a field of white flowers, looping strangely. It is not until you are closer that you see they form the shape of an eagle, and it is not until you are very close that you see it is made of stones. This is when your heart hardens in your chest, like petals turning to pebbles. The white eagle’s head is facing west towards the setting sun, and its wings are outstretched. The day is dropping to dark as you come into the harbour. When you step from the boat, the stars are setting out their little lights.

Someone will be there to welcome you. They understand. The men who brought you leave straight away though they are tired. They have not spoken to you in the days or hours you spent with them. The splash of oars fades to waves lapping the beach. They will burn the boat when they get back, like they did your house.

You look at the person who greeted you. You are changed now. Like flowers into rocks, day into night. You will always be heavier, darkened, marked. Touched.

There are many names for this place. The island of the living dead. The island of no return. You are in Culion, where the oceans are blue and clear as summer skies. Culion, where sea turtles dig the beaches and the trees brim with fruit.

Culion, the world’s largest leper colony. Welcome home.


KIRAN MILLWOOD HARGRAVEKiran was born in London in 1990 and studied at both

Cambridge and Oxford University. She is an award-winning poet, with three collections published. Her debut novel, The Girl of Ink & Stars, was published in 2016 to critical acclaim. She currently lives in Oxford.

@kiran_mh

RIGHTS INFORMATION

WORLD RIGHTS EXCLUDING USA AND CANADA AVAILABLE.

RIGHTS SOLD: Audio UK, Russia, Turkey, World Spanish

RIGHTS OPTIONED: Iran, Portugal, Romania, Vietnam

Publication Date 3rd March 2016

BEETLE BOYM.G. LeonardDarkus’s dad has disappeared – but his new friend, a giant beetle called Baxter, is some consolation. Together, boy and beetle set out to solve the mystery of his father’s disappearance. But Lucretia Cutter – a fashion designer with a penchant for beetle jewellery – is dead set against their success …

• The first darkly hilarious novel in a new trilogy by an exciting debut author, who is also the Senior Digital Media Producer for the National Theatre.

• Featuring exotic beetles, a daring quest, a mixture of bold male and female characters and a truly venomous villain.

• Heartfelt themes underlie the adventure, as Darkus strives to find his missing dad and makes new meaningful relationships in the process.

• Billed as One Hundred and One Dalmatians meets James and the Giant Peach.

Price: £6.99Pub Date: 3rd March 2016CBMC code: D3N79Dimensions: 198x129 mmWord count: 54,000 (words approx.)

Binding: Paperback

ISBN: 978-1-910002-70-4eBook ISBN: 978-1-910002-98-8Age: 10+Illustrations: Júlia SardàExport: YesRights: World


M.G. LEONARDM.G. Leonard has a degree in English Literature and an MA in Shakespeare Studies,

and loves dark stories sprinkled with magical realism. She currently works for the National Theatre and lives in Brighton with her partner and two sons.

@mglnrd

Photo by David M

yers

RIGHTS INFORMATION


RIGHTS SOLD: Albania, Audio World English, Australia, Brazil, Canada, China, Czech Republic, Denmark, Estonia, Faroe Islands, France, Georgia, Germany, Hungary, Iran, Italy, Japan, Korea, Latin America, Latvia, Lithuania, Netherlands, New Zealand, Poland, Romania, Russia, Slovakia, Spain, South Africa, Sweden, Taiwan, Turkey, Ukraine, USA, Vietnam

An extract from

BEETLE BOYM.G. LeonardDarkus looked down. The giant insect was sitting right at his feet, and before he could think about whether it was a good idea or not, he was reaching down to touch the tip of its horn. It was sharp.

‘Whoa, you’re cool!’ he said, realizing his heart was thumping in his chest.

Mesmerized, Darkus watched the beetle scramble up from the road on to the pavement, its body glistening like wet oil. He found the way it crawled fascinating. He’d never thought about the way he walked – upright on two legs – and he wondered what it would be like to have six legs, and to move around so close to the ground. The beetle walked by lifting a tripod of three legs at a time – the front and rear legs of one side of its body together with the middle leg of the other.

When the insect reached his shoe, it started climbing, heading for his ankle – as if it was trying to get up his trouser leg too!

‘Hey! Stop!’ Darkus fell backwards, flicking out his foot and flinging the beetle away.

It landed on the pavement and paused, like it was thinking. Darkus was astonished to see it lifting its hard outer wings, and unfolding a second semi-transparent, rust-coloured pair. It flew straight back to him.. The giant beetle landed on his knee, clinging on to his trousers with its claws.

Darkus yelped and shook his leg again, rolling

back on to his elbows, but the beetle wouldn’t let go.

Beside the bin next to him was a cardboard box. Darkus grabbed it and, sitting up, knocked the beetle into the box with the back of his hand. Embarrassed, he looked around to see if anyone had seen him flailing on the floor, but everyone was crowded around the unconscious man on the other side of the road, discussing what they should do with him.

Peering into the box, Darkus saw the beetle on its back, legs thrashing about frantically as it tried to get back on its feet. He immediately felt bad for hitting it. He reached in and flipped the poor creature the right way up.

‘I’m so sorry. I hope I didn’t hurt you,’ Darkus said softly. ‘It’s just you gave me a bit of a fright.’

The beetle scrambled into the corner of the box, pulling at the walls of the temporary prison with its front legs.

‘Calm down, little fella. I’m not going to hurt you.’But the beetle kept tearing at the walls, so

Darkus decided to set it free. Crouching down, he held the box on its side on the pavement. The beetle scurried out of the box, but instead of running away, it clambered on to Darkus’s hand and stood still, looking up at him expectantly.

It took a second for Darkus to realize he was OK with the beetle being on him. The gentle scratch of its claws against his skin was almost pleasant. What surprised him was the weight of the insect – he’d assumed it would be light, but it felt solid and reassuring, like a pebble. He carefully lifted his hand. ‘Hello there.’




BEETLE QUEENM.G. LeonardCruel beetle fashionista, Lucretia Cutter, is at large with her yellow ladybird spies – and she has a devious plan. Darkus, Virginia and Bertolt are determined to stop her, but Darkus’s dad is dead set against their involvement. Hope rests on Novak, Lucretia’s daughter and a Hollywood actress, but the beetle diva is always one scuttle ahead …

• The wickedly wonderful sequel to the bestselling Beetle Boy by M.G. Leonard, Waterstones’ Children’s Book of the Month in February 2016.

• The story follows Darkus, Bertolt and Virginia – and their beetle pals – as they investigate the wicked ‘Beetle Queen’ Lucretia.

Praise for BEETLE BOY:

‘Roald Dahl meets 101 Dalmatians’ DAILY EXPRESS

‘Truly great storytelling.’ MICHAEL MORPURGO

Price: £6.99Pub Date: 6th April 2017CBMC code: D3N79Dimensions: 198x129 mmWord count: 65,000 (words approx.)

Binding: Paperback



RIGHTS INFORMATION


RIGHTS SOLD: Albania, Audio World English, Australia, Canada, China, Den-mark, France, Georgia, Germany, Hungary, Iran, Italy, Korea, Latvia, Lithuania, The Netherlands, New Zealand, Romania, Russia, Spain, South Africa, Sweden, Ukraine, USA, Vietnam

RIGHTS OPTIONED: Brazil, Czech Repub-lic, Estonia, Faroe Islands, France, Japan, Poland, Taiwan, Turkey

An extract from

BEETLE QUEENM.G. Leonard‘Oh, YES!’ She jumped up and down in excitement. ‘I look out of this world!’

‘As radiant as a goddess,’ Lucretia Cutter nodded.‘Yeah. Look at me. I’m a total goddess.’ She put her

hands on her hips and leant into the mirror, showing off her ample bosom. ‘I gotta have this dress.’ She shimmied, and the beetles gave a satisfying rattle. ‘No other girl at the Film Awards is gonna have a dress like this.’

‘Other dresses will look like dirty rags next to this one,’ Lucretia Cutter said. ‘And when the flashbulbs pop, as you glide down that red carpet, every one of these beetle-scales will reflect the light perfectly, giving you the aura of an angel.’

‘As long as I look better than Stella Manning.’ She paraded towards the mirror and then away again. ‘That old witch is yesterday’s news. This year, I want all eyes on me. It’s gonna be me giving the tearful speeches and getting the Film Award.’

‘I can promise, no one will be able to take their eyes off you. This dress will go down in history. It will never be forgotten.’

‘Who knew beetles could be pretty?’ Ruby threw up her hands dramatically. ‘I’ll just die if anyone else wears it!’

‘I’m honoured that an actress of your calibre will be wearing my creation to the Film Awards.’

‘My stylist said you were a genius, Letitia—’‘—Lucretia—’‘—mm-hmm, Letitia, whatever,’ Ruby said, still marvelling

at her own reflection, ‘and I didn’t believe her. But how wrong was I?’

‘You’re too kind.’ Lucretia Cutter’s patience was wearing

thin. ‘However, I must tell you that if you want to wear this dress to the Film Awards, there are some rules that you must agree to.’

‘Rules?’ Ruby frowned. ‘What kinda rules?’‘You will not see the dress again until the morning of

the ceremony, when a member of my staff will come and do the fitting, then drive you to the awards in one of my cars. You are allowed to tell the press that you are wearing a Cutter Couture creation, but you must not describe the dress to anyone. It is to be a secret.’

‘A secret?’ Ruby arched an eyebrow. ‘I love that!’ She clapped. ‘I’ll surprise the world when I step out of the limo on to the red carpet. Yes!’ She held out her hand to Lucretia Cutter. ‘Lulu, you got a deal.’

‘Then the dress is yours,’ Lucretia Cutter said, ignoring the actress’s outstretched hand.

‘Sweet.’ Ruby shrugged, taking one last look at herself in the mirror before skipping behind the screen and, a second later, handing the dress to Gerard. She came out, pulling her pink sweater over her blonde curls and slipping her white stilettos back on. ‘It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Lulu.’ Ruby stopped to check her make-up in the mirror.

‘Oh no,’ Lucretia Cutter replied, ‘the pleasure will be entirely mine.’ She gestured to the door. ‘Gerard will show you out.’

After the door had closed behind them, Lucretia Cutter turned to Snow White, admiring her creation. She tilted her head back, and from deep within her throat she made a ghastly clicking sound.

The dress, hanging in the open trunk, shimmered and vibrated like it was coming apart, suddenly exploding into a whirlwind of movement as thousands of specially bred Cyphochilus beetles flew out of their fastenings and swarmed around Lucretia Cutter’s head like a sparkling tornado.

Lucretia laughed. This was going to be so easy.

M.G. LEONARDM.G. Leonard has a degree in English Literature and an MA in Shakespeare Studies,

and loves dark stories sprinkled with magical realism. She currently works for the National Theatre and lives in Brighton with her partner and two sons.

@mglnrd

Photo by David M

yers

Publication Date 1st February 2018

BATTLE OF THE BEETLESM.G. LeonardThe beetle adventure continues as Darkus and his friends seek wicked Lucretia Cutter’s secret Biome in the Amazon rainforest. If they can’t stop her from unleashing her hoard of giant Frankenstein beetles, the planet will never be the same again …

• The final book in the Beetle trilogy, following Beetle Boy and Beetle Queen, the former of which has sold in 36 territories worldwide and was the winner of the Branford Boase Award 2017.

• Author M.G. Leonard is a rising star in children’s fiction with a compelling educational angle, who continues to appear in mainstream press, radio and TV.

Praise for BEETLE QUEEN:

‘A glorious romp’ DAILY MAIL

‘Rich in quirky humour, warm characterisation and chittering menace’ GUARDIAN

Price: £6.99Pub Date: 1st February 2018CBMC code: D3N79Dimensions: 198x129 mmWord count: 50,000 (words approx.)

Binding: Paperback



An extract from

BATTLE OF THE BEETLESM.G. LeonardNovak had never tested what her body was capable of – she’d spent all her energy hiding the changes caused by the pupation, even from Gerard. She had bound her feet and worn thick tights to cover her black shins. But here, now, in this cell, she was helpless, and the only tools she had that might help her escape a second pupation were her beetle genes.

She got to her feet, standing up on her claws, holding Hepburn in her cupped hands. ‘You have to help me, Heppy,’ she whispered. ‘I’m going to try and be more like you. I need to learn who I really am.’

Hepburn fluttered her wings and lifted off Novak’s hands, hovering in front of her face. She bowed her head, waggling her arms in a gesture of encouragement, and Novak laughed.

‘OK, OK.’ Novak rolled her chin down to her chest, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Lifting her hands to the back of her skull and parting her thick silver hair, she teased out first one, then a second black feathered antenna. The two antennae rose up until they were curling out of the top of her head like two delicate feathered fans. She concentrated her breathing, placing her thoughts in her skin, where each hair was standing to attention. She felt her eyes roll back in her head and fill with

darkness. This wasn’t a dream. She was making this

happen.The fine silver hairs on her body shivered,

and the world outside the triangular walls of her white cell came into her consciousness as a series of sounds, smells, movements and barriers. She sensed a man with rasping breath and strong body odour sitting on a chair outside the cell.

‘Dankish,’ Novak whispered. She lifted her head and clenched her fists.

She needed to test how her human muscles and chitinous feet worked together. She spun round and ran at the wall, managing to get both claws on the wall before she fell, hitting her elbow hard.

‘Ouch!’ She got up, rubbing it, and walked back to the opposite wall – as far away as she could get in the small cell – and tried again. This time she ran up the wall diagonally, gouging great scratches into the plaster. Feeling the strength in her feet, she slowed, strolling into the centre of the ceiling and hanging upside down, like a bat. Her claws were incredibly powerful and easily able to take her weight.

Her silver hair hung down and her black flagellate antennae flicked and fanned, sensing the world around her. Her beetle eyes picked up more detail in the dimly lit room than her human eyes. Everything around her, even the air, was more visceral.

Hepburn flitted up, hovering in front of her face and dancing about. Novak smiled at the beetle’s delight.

‘We are sisters, Hepburn,’ she said.


M.G. LEONARDM.G. Leonard is the bestselling author of the Branford Boase Award-winning Beetle Boy.

She has a degree in English Literature and an MA in Shakespeare Studies, and loves dark stories sprinkled with magical realism. She lives in Brighton with her partner and two sons.

@mglnrd

Photo by David M

yers

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Publication Date 7th July 2016

THE APPRENTICE WITCHJames NicolArianwyn fluffs her witch’s assessment – instead of qualifying, she’s declared an apprentice and sent to remote Lull in disgrace. Then her arch-enemy, mean girl Gimma, arrives on holiday determined to make her life a misery. But as a mysterious darkness begins to haunt her spells, Arianwyn realises there’s much more than her pride at stake …

• A bewitching debut set in a world of domestic magic, in which our protagonist is a community witch – a refreshingly small- world fantasy with relationships at its heart.

• Relatable Arianwyn fails her witch’s test but gains confidence through the novel, tapping into important themes of overcoming failure and building self-esteem.

• Filled with thrills, pesky magical conundrums, outlandish creatures and an enchanted forest, yet retains its warm soul and earthy charm.

Price: £6.99Pub Date: 7th July 2016CBMC code: C3N79Dimensions: 198x129 mmWord count: 60,000 (words approx.)

Binding: Paperback

ISBN: 978-1-910655-15-3eBook ISBN: 978-1-910655-62-7Age: 8+Illustrations: N/AExport: YesRights: World


RIGHTS INFORMATIONAn extract from

THE APPRENTICE WITCHJames NicolArianwyn felt the cool metal of the wand of the evaluation gauge press into her palm.

She could hear Miss Newam breathing in and out through her nose with the tiniest whistling sound.

She kept the glyphs focused in her mind.Briå – Air, flight, transformation.A small surge of power zipped through

Arianwyn as the flow of energy connected with her.

Aluna – Water, healing, divination.The sensation was like cold pins and needles.

She felt dizzy.Erte – Earth, strength, protection, life.The glyphs formed and died in the darkness

like rare flowers.Årdra – Fire, energy, defence. And then she saw it, hanging there, blooming

in her mind amongst the other glyphs. Not now! Arianwyn thought to herself and

tried to blink it away. Another glyph: an impossible glyph, one

that didn’t exist. Its shape was strange and yet familiar.

There were only four cardinal glyphs and two secondary glyphs. This was none of those. She

could feel its power pulling on the flow of magic that lingered around the square. She tried not to focus on it; it was always easier if she tried to ignore it.

But it was larger and bolder than the other four, although it didn’t glow in the same way. It was dark and seemed to suck the other light towards it.

Stop it!This hadn’t happened for ages. Typical that it

should happen today of all days.The last time she had seen it, she’d been tired

and upset, too, and it had ended so badly … no, she wouldn’t think about that now. Chase it away from your mind, she told herself.

She had kept it a secret, telling nobody, not even Grandmother. And yet something drew her to the strangeness of its shape and before she knew what she was doing or why she was reaching towards it with her mind.

It bristled with energy. But it felt cool, distant. Not warm and vibrant like the real glyphs.

Arianwyn felt the connection and now it was too late to stop. It felt as though all the energy nearby was suddenly doubled and rushing towards her, slamming into her with a jolt.

Her eyes flew open and she stumbled back on the platform. The evaluation gauge whirred and then several loud popping sounds echoed around the courtyard. The lights in the offices blinked out. The watchers gasped. Miss Newam gave a small cry of dismay and a thin column of smoke twisted steadily from the machine.

JAMES NICOLJames Nicol has loved books and stories his whole life. As a child he spent hours absorbed

in novels, watching epic 1980s cartoons or adventuring in the wood at the bottom of the garden. He lives on the edge of the Cambridgeshire Fens with his partner and a black and white cockapoo called Bonnie.

@jamesenicol


RIGHTS SOLD: Audio US, Australia, Catalan, Canada, Czech Republic, France, Germany, New Zealand, Romania, Spain, USA


Publication Date 1st March 2018

A WITCH ALONEJames NicolArianwyn is recruited for an important mission: to retrieve the Book of Quiet Glyphs from its hiding place in the Great Wood. But as feyling refugees gather outside the town walls and hex plagues the forest, tensions lead to fall-outs with her friends. Arianwyn soon realises that she alone can find the Book, and wield its secrets …

• The second book in James Nicol’s enchanting Apprentice Witch series; perfect for fans of The Worst Witch or Diana Wynne Jones.

• Themes of friendship, courage and tolerance ensure this cleverly domestic fantasy remains grounded and relevant.

Praise for THE APPRENTICE WITCH:

‘A charming tale of magic, bravery and friendship, reminiscent of Diana Wynne Jones.’ THE GUARDIAN

‘Infused with mystery, adventure and bundles of charm.’ THE BOOKSELLER

Price: £6.99Pub Date: 1st March 2018CBMC code: C3N79Dimensions: 198x129 mmWord count: 65,000 (words approx.)

Binding: Paperback



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An extract from

A WITCH ALONEJames NicolPulling her blanket tight around her, Arianwyn padded across the Spellorium to the door and pulled up the blind.

‘Oh my goodness! Colin!’ Arianwyn called as she unlocked the door and pulled it open. He was standing across the cobblestone street. ‘I didn’t realise you’d be here so soon!’ She dashed towards her friend.

‘Hello Miss Gribble.’ He said rather formally and unexpectedly. His cheeks were a little flushed and he half backed away from Arianwyn. She stumbled to a halt.

‘I didn’t think you’d be arriving until next week!’ In her excitement Arianwyn pulled him into a tight hug just as he said, ‘Wait! Arianwyn—’

‘MISS GRIBBLE!’ A sharp voice rang along Kettle Lane. Somewhere nearby a baby burst into tears and a dog started to howl. ‘Good heavens. I hope this isn’t how all guests from the Civil Witchcraft Authority are greeted?’ The voice was unmistakable.

Arianwyn felt her stomach drop, as if she was on a rollercoaster. But this was much less fun. ‘Miss Newam?’ she said, though she was starting to think lack of sleep had caused her to hallucinate. Miss Newam stood, arms folded

tightly across her chest, and glared at Arianwyn as though she was something very unpleasant indeed. So this was the other person, the person the high elder trusted? Or had there been some mistake?

‘Miss Newam works for the Magical Research and Science board now and was selected to join the team!’ Colin said, trying jolly hard to make it sound like good news.

‘Oh, really?’ She couldn’t mask the shock in her voice. There was no way Miss Newam would have volunteered to help Arianwyn find the book. Was something fishy going on? ‘Welcome to Lull, Miss Newam. It’s … nice to see you again.’ Arianwyn extended her hand. Miss Newam sniffed and wrinkled her nose. She ignored Arianwyn’s outstretched hand.

‘Miss Gribble, we’ve had a very long night travelling. Ending with some perfectly awful drive here on a bus of all things!’ She gestured at Beryl, parked a little further down Kettle Lane. ‘Ghastly business. I am not in the mood for pleasantries. I’d just like to go to wherever it is we are staying, have a warm bath and a lie down.’ She wiped at imaginary dirt on her sleeves and skirt. Her clothes looked as ill-fitting as ever.

‘Are you booked into the Blue Ox then?’ Arianwyn asked.

‘Well I certainly hope so.’ Miss Newam sighed. ‘Naturally you were arranging accommodation!’

Was she? Arianwyn had a cold sinking feeling.

JAMES NICOLJames Nicol has loved books and stories his whole life. As a child he spent hours absorbed

in novels, watching epic 1980s cartoons or adventuring in the wood at the bottom of the garden. He lives in Cambridgeshire.

@jamesenicol

Publication Date 2nd February 2017

WHO LET THE GODS OUT?Maz EvansA shooting star crashes to earth and changes Elliot’s life forever. The star is Virgo – a young Zodiac goddess on a mission. When the pair accidentally unleash the wicked death daemon Thanatos, they turn to the old Olympian gods for help. But after centuries of cushy retirement on earth, are Zeus and his crew up to the task?

• A new, exciting and brilliantly British Percy Jackson-esque adventure.

• Hilarious and heartfelt, Who Let the Gods Out? is the first in a series centred on the Olympian gods.

• The debut novel by creative writing teacher and exciting new talent, Maz Evans.

• The self-published unedited novel sold over 1,000 copies and featured at seven national literary festivals.

Price: £6.99Pub Date: 2nd February 2017CBMC code: C3N79Dimensions: 198x129 mmWord count: 67,000 (words approx.)

Binding: Paperback



An extract from

WHO LET THE GODS OUT?Maz Evans‘Bessie?’ Elliot whispered into the cowshed. ‘Bessie, are you ok?’

A low moo reassured him that his beloved pet cow was unscathed by whatever had broken through the roof – before a rustle in the straw made his heart thump once more.

‘Hello?’ he said, quickly realizing that the intruder was unlikely to respond to a polite greeting. ‘Who’s there?’

‘Don’t move, mortal!’ threatened a young girl’s voice, cutting through the silence of the shed like a thunderbolt. ‘I’m not afraid to use this.’

Elliot stopped in his tracks, his ragged breathing betraying his heartbeat. But as his eyes learnt to read the darkness, he started to make out the figure of his attacker in the gloom. Standing in the large pile of cow dung in the corner of the shed was a girl, no older than himself, dressed in a purple fancy dress toga with a long silver wig. Her big, round eyes were as dark as the night outside and although she was doing her best to twist her delicate features into a ferocious stare, she only succeeded in looking like a slightly grumpy china doll. And she was pointing a large, yellow rubber glove threateningly in Elliot’s direction.

‘I’ve seen where the vet puts that glove,’ said Elliot to this strange, angry girl. ‘Trust me, I’m not

coming anywhere near you.’The girl inched closer to Elliot, never taking her

eyes from his. ‘Where am I?’ she asked. ‘In the cowshed,’ Elliot replied. ‘Hmmm – Kowsh Ed,’ said the girl. ‘I’ve not

heard of this region of earth – are the inhabitants friendly?’

‘When they’re not being threatened by a trick-or-treater covered in cow poo,’ said Elliot.

‘Tell me Madam Bovinor,’ she whispered over her shoulder to Bessie. ‘Can this mortal be trusted?’

The cow let out a friendly moo. ‘That’s good enough for me,’ said the girl,

disarming herself of the glove. She placed her right hand on her left shoulder in some kind of greeting. ‘I’m Virgo, Constellation of the Zodiac Council and Guardian of the Stationery Cupboard. And you are?’

Elliot looked at her suspiciously. ‘I’m Elliot Hooper. What the heck are you doing in my shed?’

‘Looking for Thanatos, Mr What-The-Heck-Are-You-Doing-In-My-Shed. Is he here?’

‘Is who here?’‘Than-a-tos,’ Virgo spelt out, as if she were

talking to a deaf baboon. ‘Daemon of Death. Where is he?’

‘Oh, Thanatos,’ said Elliot sarcastically. ‘Walk down the road to the nearest yeti and take a left at the Bogeyman. Thanatos lives two doors down.’

‘Don’t be absurd,’ snorted Virgo. ‘Everyone knows that the Bogeyman lives in Belgium. But it’s not your fault; I’ve heard how simple you mortals are. If you don’t know where Thanatos is, I’ll just have to find him myself.’


MAZ EVANSMaz began her writing career in journalism as a TV critic and feature writer. She is also

the founder of Story Stew, a creative writing programme that visits primary schools and literary festivals around the UK. She lives in London.

@maryaliceevans

WORLD RIGHTS EXCLUDING FILM AVAILABLE.

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Publication Date 3rd August 2017

SIMPLY THE QUESTMaz EvansElliot and Virgo’s troubles are far from over: death-daemon Thanatos and his scary mum are at large and determined to destroy the world. As even more immortal allies and enemies emerge, Virgo and Elliot must learn how to be heroes …

• The raucous sequel to Maz Evans’ bestselling anarchic romp, Who Let the Gods Out?.

• Published only six months after publication of the first book in the series.

• Our hero, Elliot, embarks on another hilarious, heartfelt adventure with the Greek gods – and the stakes are higher than ever.

Praise for WHO LET THE GODS OUT:

‘… lashings of adventure, the Olympic gods as you’ve never seen them before and a wonderfully British sense of humour.’ FIONA NOBLE, THE BOOKSELLER

Price: £6.99Pub Date: 3rd August 2017CBMC code: C3N79Dimensions: 198x129 mmWord count: 63,000 (words approx.)

Binding: Paperback



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An extract from

SIMPLY THE QUESTMaz Evans‘I’m sorry, Virgo,’ said Aquarius gravely. ‘You have failed to provide any compelling evidence that you are worthy of your kardia …’

‘But … I … ’ wailed Virgo desperately. ‘… so if there’s nothing further, I declare the

defendant g—’ ‘Please!’ begged Virgo, extending her clasped

hands towards Aquarius. ‘I can’t stay like this! Mortals are irrational! Mortals are unpredictable! Mortals grow hair in their armpits! Surely I don’t deserve that?’

The Councillors looked unconvinced. Virgo stared helplessly at Elliot, hoping her silent pleas for him to speak out against this injustice made it through all that ear wax.

The mortal boy rolled his eyes and belched slightly.

‘Look,’ said Elliot. ‘Apart from the fact that I really need you to take her back because she’s an epic pain in the butt – seriously, how long does one person need in the shower? – it’s not fair to punish her for … for saving me. Thanatos nearly killed me. Virgo’s not the bad guy here. She risked everything to save my life. In fact, if you look at it in kind of a weird, twisted, really annoying way … she was a hero.’

Aquarius raised an eyebrow.

‘A hero, you say?’ he said. ‘Interesting …’Virgo’s head snapped back to the Councillors,

who were huddled together in a bundle of frenzied whispers.

‘Alright,’ said Aquarius as the Councillors returned to their seats. ‘Virgo, we will grant you the chance to earn your kardia back.’

‘Yeeeeesssss!’ squealed Virgo, running to hug a startled Aquarius. ‘I’ll do anything – you name it. I’ll alphabetise Cancer’s classical music CDs. I’ll clip Scorpio’s dodgy toenails. I’ll do Taurus’s laundry after Fajita Friday – anything, anything at all …’

‘The punishment should fit the crime,’ said Aquarius. ‘The child is right. Your reckless behaviour might have placed the mortals in terrible danger.’

‘Not that we know anything about that,’ added Leo.

‘If Earth is indeed an endangered realm, the mortals will need someone who is prepared to undergo unthinkable perils to protect them,’ said Aquarius. ‘They’ll need someone who will lead the fight against evil. They’ll need someone who will risk their very being to ensure their survival. If you want your kardia back, you really do need to give the mortals a hero.’

‘Great,’ said Virgo confidently. ‘Who?’ ‘You,’ said Aquarius casually. ‘Me?!’ exclaimed Virgo. ‘How am I supposed to

do that?’‘I’m afraid that falls under Directive 7408c: Your

Problem,’ said Aquarius, bringing down his golden gavel. ‘Prove yourself a hero or kiss your kardia farewell. And find me some plastic folders! Case dismissed.’



@maryaliceevans



ODYSSEY CLEARLY NOWMaz EvansElliot’s life is spiralling out of control and his mum’s health his worsening. The gods are determined to embark on the quest for the third chaos stone. But Elliot has heard of a mythical potion rumoured to cure all ills … could he save his mum, even if it means sacrificing the fate of the world?

• The raucous third book in Maz Evans’ divine quartet, published only six months after the second book in the series; book one, Who Let the Gods Out?, was a Nielsen bestseller with international rights sold in 17 territories.

• There’s a charming flick book feature at the bottom of each page as our hero, Elliot, embarks on another hilarious, heartfelt adventure with the Greek gods.

• Educational angle as the Odyssey is important KS3 material.

Praise for SIMPLY THE QUEST:

‘Evans is a fantastically funny new talent.’ THE BOOKSELLER

Price: £6.99Pub Date: 5th April 2018CBMC code: D3N79Dimensions: 198x129 mmWord count: 65,000 (words approx.)

Binding: Paperback



An extract from

ODYSSEY CLEARLY NOWMaz Evans

‘Elliot!’ cried the King of the Gods. ‘I’m not letting him go on such a perilous journey. You’re even crazier than you look!’

‘You’ve done it before…’ whispered Hypnos.‘Taking the stones from mortal buildings is one

thing,’ hissed Zeus. ‘Stealing one from one of the most ferocious creatures in the immortal world is quite another! We are invulnerable. Elliot is not. Besides, there’s too much going on here. He has school…’

‘No he doesn’t,’ said Athene, walking slowly back into the room.

‘What?’ said Elliot.‘That was the headmaster of Brysmore on the

phone,’ said Athene. ‘In the light of today’s… incident… you are suspended until further notice.’

‘Good,’ said Elliot. ‘I hate that place anyway.’‘Well that’s settled then,’ said Hypnos, rubbing his

hands with glee. ‘Boys’ road trip! Trust me, we need him. We’ll pick up the Water Stone, grab Panacea’s Potion, job’s a good’un.’

‘Panacea’s Potion doesn’t exist!’ cried an exasperated Athene.

‘Oh yes it does,’ said Hypnos. ‘If you’re lying to us,’ said Zeus menacingly.‘Then you’ll fry me a thousand thunderbolts blah,

blah, blah…’ said Hypnos, pinching his thumb and

fingers together. ‘Listen, chief – look at it this way. If I am lying, you get to pull me apart like yesterday’s roast chicken.’

‘You can count on it,’ growled Zeus. ‘Good to know,’ said Hypnos. ‘But what if I’m not?

What if it is real? What if the cure to all of Elliot’s problems really does exist? And what if you’re stopping him from finding it? Are you prepared to take that risk?’

Zeus stared angrily at the Daemon. ‘We’re going,’ said Elliot firmly.‘I’m coming too!’ said Virgo. ‘No you’re not,’ said Athene and Zeus together.‘Greeeeeaaat!’ squealed Hypnos, clapping his hands

gleefully. ‘We set sail tomorrow!’‘NOOOOOOOOOOO!’ roared Zeus, making the

kitchen tremble.Everyone was stunned into silence.‘Er… I just mean… I hate travelling by sea. Makes me…

er… terribly queasy. We’ll go by plane. I know just the chap… our old pal Odysseus has taken the immortal travel world by storm with Don’tcAIR, his “no frills, more thrills” approach to travel – and bally good luck to him.’

‘Keep it down, pal,’ said Dave Hooper, coming down the stairs. ‘I’ve just got Josie settled. What’s going on?’

Elliot told his father all about the proposed trip to the Island of the Cyclops.

‘So when do we leave?’ Dave said at last.‘This is turning into a ruddy coach trip!’ huffed Zeus. ‘If Elliot’s going, I’m going,’ said Dave. ‘End of.’ Elliot released the breath he’d been holding.

It was going to happen. He was going to find Mum that potion to cure her if it was the last thing he ever did.



@maryaliceevans

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