Product Description
ANTics is a fun children's fantasy in ebook and paperback format. The story is for ages seven and older about a colony of ants that live in a hidden world called InhabitANT, at the bottom of an English country garden. All the ants have names that describe their personality and end in ANT. The story centres around three little ants - ExuberANT (nicknamed Zube), BrilliANT (called Brill) and HesitANT.
When the trio set out to bring a juicy berry back to their nest they never imagine the antics in store. The pals are having fun until they stumble across their fiercest enemy – a crazy, evil spider with magic powers. They call him RepugnANT (Puggy for short), because that’s what he is. He’s got the biggest temper and worst smell of any creature in the crawly kingdom.
The little ants flee for their lives with the eight-legged beast in hot pursuit. He’s vowed to turn them into ant soup and wipe out their nest.
Can they outsmart the monster and save their nestmates?
When the trio set out to bring a juicy berry back to their nest they never imagine the antics in store. The pals are having fun until they stumble across their fiercest enemy – a crazy, evil spider with magic powers. They call him RepugnANT (Puggy for short), because that’s what he is. He’s got the biggest temper and worst smell of any creature in the crawly kingdom.
The little ants flee for their lives with the eight-legged beast in hot pursuit. He’s vowed to turn them into ant soup and wipe out their nest.
Can they outsmart the monster and save their nestmates?
About the Author
Dakota Douglas is a former newspaper reporter from the North East of England, following her childhood dream of being a novelist. As a kid, she read books under the bedclothes by torchlight. Now she dives under the covers, torch in hand, to scribble down conversations between her book characters in case she forgets them in the morning. She has written stories since she was about eight years old. She wrote them on a toy typewriter and her dad did the illustrations. When she wasn’t pounding on her typewriter, she was smashing a tennis ball against the brick end of a block of garages beside her home. For hours on end she perfected her lob, backhand and forehand shots – all the time spinning stories in her head.
