Snort and Wobbles is aimed for children in the 6 – 10 age group who are just becoming confident at reading for themselves, or for parents who (like the author) are addicted to reading to their children at night… It is perfect for bedtime reading as it is split into six chapters, each approximately 2000 words.
Dragons aren’t real. Everyone knows that. Whatever do you do when you are eight years old – and meet a dragon in your garden? You have the adventure of your life!
When naughty big brother Jeremy is captured by the goblins who live in a nearby cave, and is scheduled to be the main course for their party barbecue, it is up to Wobbles and her new friend, the dragon Snort, to rescue him before the supply of ketchup arrives… will they be in time?
Targeted Age Group:: 5 – 10
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I loved reading to my children at night: every night. So when my first grandchild arrived, I thought it would be great if I could read him a book I’d written.
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
Haha, they are all based on my friends! I wonder if my grandchild will recognise them when he gets older?
Dad smiled widely, struck a match, and waved it at the barbecue. There was a loud bang and he fell over backwards, his eyebrows on fire. Flames spurted wildly out of the barbecue, until Dad turned the gas down. Dad started shouting again.
Both Wobbles and Jeremy burst out laughing. Dad’s face was covered in soot, and it was clear that both of his eyebrows had gone up in flames. Mum’s head popped back out of the kitchen window.
“Dad! What do you think you are playing at! People are due here in half an hour. Now, put some sausages on the grill while I finish with this salad, then go and get clean!”
Both Jeremy and Wobbles sniggered as Dad went inside. Then Mum’s head came out of the window again.
“Lisa, I’ve got some bad news. Your friend Ellie can’t come. Her mummy says she isn’t feeling very well.”
Wobbles’ face fell. The party would not be as much fun without her best friend.
“Stay away from the barbecue, we don’t want any accidents,” Mum warned.
“She means any more accidents,” sniggered Jeremy as Dad came back out of the house, and started cooking sausages. He had washed his face, but he didn’t look very happy.
“Right, you two!” called Mum. “Come and carry some of these bowls out to the table.” As the two children went into the kitchen, the front door bell rang. The guests were starting to arrive. Soon lots of people were in the garden, talking loudly and pretending to eat the sausages Dad was burning on the grill.
Both Wobbles and Jeremy were soon ignored, as the grown ups started laughing and telling jokes. To Wobbles’ surprise, even Mister Tremble was not scowling as usual. Wobbles had an idea. To her shock, it was a naughty idea, for she was not normally a naughty little girl. She had overheard Dad telling Mum that she was probably saving it all up for when she was sixteen, but she hadn’t really understood what he meant.
Wobbles looked all around, but no one was paying her any attention. Even Jeremy had gone off to his bedroom with his school friend. So Wobbles sneaked off down the garden path on her own, towards the garden shed.
When she got close to the shed, she looked all around, nervously. Then she heard it – the same strange noise. What could it be? Who could be making it? There it was again. A large old tree grew out of the bank of the stream behind the shed. Wobbles crept behind the shed, and put her arms round as much of the tree trunk as she could manage.
There it was again! A sort of snort, or a sneeze or cough, all mixed up together. Wobbles held onto the trunk of the tree as hard as she could, and peered over the bank of the stream, and looked down towards the water.
There, looking out at the stream from a hole in the bank, almost hidden by the roots of the tree, was a small green dragon!
About the Author:
Will Macmillan Jones lives in Wales, a lovely green, verdant land with a rich cultural heritage. He does his best to support this heritage by drinking the local beer and shouting loud encouragement whenever International Rugby is on the TV. A fifty something lover of blues, rock and jazz he has just fulfilled a lifetime ambition by filling an entire wall of his home office with (full) bookcases. When not writing, he is usually lost with the help of a satnav on top of a large hill in the middle of nowhere.
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