Posts Tagged ‘Queenie and Arthur’

School Visit

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December 11th, 2019 Posted 7:08 am

Today we’re in Newark NJ for a couple of school visits. These are fun! We should do more. We’ll be talking about the Queenie and Arthur series. I usually mention that I was once the same age as the kids. That’s a shocker for all concerned. Then I do a whole thing about people being like a tree inside – with the rings for every year. As a writer, it’s good to be able to access, say, the twelve year old ring. Because in some ways I never grew up, that’s a snap for me.

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From An Amazon Queenie and Arthur Review

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September 18th, 2019 Posted 8:17 am

“I really enjoyed reading this book and I can see why my son told me that I needed to read it as soon as he was able to relocate it in his room.”

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In 5 Days!

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September 12th, 2019 Posted 9:13 am

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Beginnings + Sneak Peek

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September 8th, 2019 Posted 10:02 am

On Sundays we do beginnings – the first paragraph or two from a Peter Abrahams novel, including those written under the Spencer Quinn moniker. For one thing, this gives us a chance to trot out the word moniker, a strange one of uncertain derivation. Today’s beginning is also a sneak peek. Paws vs. Claws, the second in the middle grade Queenie and Arthur series, comes out Sept. 17. Here’s how it starts:

“Bad news, pussycat,” said Bertha. “No cream today.”

No cream today? Had I heard right? Well, that’s not a real question. Of course I’d heard right. My hearing is as good as it gets. Everything about me is as good as it gets. My looks, for example, are off the charts. I’m a thing of beauty from my gold-flecked button nose to the tip of my snowy tail. And my eyes! I’ll make this simple: When you gaze into them, you never want to stop. That’s happened to me so often—in fact, every time I come upon a mirror.

There are no mirrors in our kitchen, here at the Blackberry Hill Inn. I prefer rooms with mirrors but I make an exception for the kitchen. Every morning when I wake up I take an elegant little stretch—very different from the clumsy stretches of a certain other party who inhabits this place and whom you’ll probably meet later, nothing I can do about it—and I glide down off the top of the grandfather clock in the front hall and make my way here, where Bertha, the cook, is standing by to serve me fresh cream in a pretty china saucer, white with a gold border. This saucer is known to everyone as Queenie’s saucer. I’m Queenie, in case you haven’t guessed. I hope I’m not going too fast, although if I am, don’t expect me to do anything about it.

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The Books



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