Ms. Pennypickle's Remarkable Road Race

Hardcover
$17.99 US
5-1/2"W x 8-1/4"H
On sale Oct 13, 2026 | 288 Pages | 9798217120871
Grades 3-7
Reading Level: Fountas & Pinnell U

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From the New York Times–bestselling author of the Lemoncello series comes Ms. Pennypickle’s next laugh-out-loud puzzle adventure! When she launches a reality-show contest for a million-dollar prize, two kids must outwit cheaters and solve her epic riddles to win.

When Ethan and Benji won Ms. Pennypickle's epic quest, they weren't supposed to tell anyone...so when Benji makes a viral video, Ms. Pennypickle is in trouble! Luckily, her head of advertising, Jack has a plan! It's time to create a Pennypickle reality show and give a few teams a chance to follow in Benji's footsteps and win the ultimate prize. Jack's son, Jackson is a master puzzler...and when one of the contestants, Hope, is without a team member, Jackson steps in to help her race across the country. 

With Hope's mom as their driver, the pair solve riddles, anagrams, word scrambles, and more as they cross the USA hitting sights like a giant Paul Bunyon statue and the St. Louis Gateway arch. But as the two learn to work together and solve the puzzles...another team is determined to cheat their way to the finish. Can Jackson and Hope find their way to a triumph fair and square?
© Elena Seibert
When I talk to kids about my new book THE ISLAND OF DR. LIBRIS, I torture them with a tale of electronics deprivation.
     "My main character, Billy Gillfoyle," I say, "is spending the summer in a cabin on a lake.  There is no cable, no TV, no DVR, no X-Box, no PlayStation 3.  There isn't even an old-fashioned VCR."
     By this point, the kids' gasps become audible.
     "On his first day at the cabin," I continue, "Billy drops his iPhone and it shatters.  The nearest Apple store is several hundred miles away."
     Jaws drop.  The kids are practically weeping – just like my hero, Billy Gillfoyle.  He mopes around the cabin after the demise of his iPhone and ends up in this scene with his mother:
    
  "Billy, what do you think kids did back before video games or TV or even electricity?"
  "I don't know.  Cried a lot?"  He plopped down dramatically on the couch.
  "No, Billy. They read books.  They made up stories and games.  They took nothing and turned it into something."
 
     And that's what happens to Billy in this book:  He learns to start using and trusting his own imagination.
     Characters from books that he reads in Dr. Libris' study start coming to life out on the island in the middle of the lake.   In no time, Hercules, the monster Antaeus, Robin Hood, Maid Marian, The Three Musketeers, D'Artagnan, Pollyanna, and Tom Sawyer are all bumping into each other's stories.  It's up to Billy, with the help of his new friend Walter, and a bookcase filled with classic literature, to "imagine" a scenario that will bring all the conflicts to a tidy resolution. 
     Yep.  In THE ISLAND OF DR. LIBRIS, Billy Gillfoyle is learning how to become a writer.  He puts his characters into situations and conflicts that will, ultimately, take him to the happy ending he, and everybody else, is looking for.
     When all seems lost, he is on the island with his new friends Robin Hood, Maid Marian, and Hercules, despairing that he's not heroic enough to rescue his asthmatic friend Walter from the clutches of the evil Space Lizard (yes, hideous creatures from video games and fairy tales eventually come to life on the island, too.) 
 
  "Ho, lads and lassie!" said Robin Hood.  "All is not lost!  Look you, Sir William – I remember a time when Sir Guy of Gisbourne held me captive in his tower.  Did my band of merry followers let a moat or castle walls stand in their way?"
  "Nay!" said Marian.  "Little John and I didst lead the charge.  Oh, how the arrows did fly that day!"
  "I'm not Little John," Billy said quietly.  "Or you, Maid Marian.  I'm not a hero."  He looked down at Walter's inhaler.  "I'm just a kid who can't even save his own family."
  "Nonsense," said Maid Marian. "Each of us can choose who or what we shall be.  We write our own stories, Sir William.  We write them each and every day."
  "And," added Hercules, "if you write it boldly enough, others will write about you, too."
 
     In my book ESCAPE FROM MR. LEMONCELLO'S LIBRARY, I wanted to make young readers excited about reading and doing research.  I tried to turn a trip to the library into an incredibly fun scavenger hunt, filled with puzzles and surprises.  (In my perpetually twelve-years-old mind, that's what doing research actually is.)
     With THE ISLAND OF DR. LIBRIS, I am hoping to excite young readers about the power and awesomeness of their own imaginations. I want them to take nothing and turn it into something.  To take two old ideas, toss them together, and create something new.
     And, when they write their own stories, maybe some of them will decide they want to become authors, writing stories for the rest of us, too!
     
      View titles by Chris Grabenstein
Chapter 1

When it comes to speed puzzling, my dad and I are almost unbeatable.

Because we’re a super tight team. We don’t need anybody else on our squad, either. He’s Jack. I’m Jackson. Yep. Even our names are tight.

The object of speed puzzling is—­you guessed it—­speed! Whoever finishes the assigned jigsaw puzzle first wins.

“You ready, Jackson?” asks Dad. He’s holding our pickle-­green drawstring bag. Inside is the same puzzle everybody else will discover in their bags.

“Ready.”

Suddenly, there’s wild applause.

The Spanish team just showed up. They call themselves Los Anónimos—­The Anonymous Ones. A pair of dark-­haired, stubble-­faced, twenty-­something dudes in hoodies and Ray-­Bans. They never say much, and they look supercool doing it. They also have their own YouTube channel.

At the World Competition in London, the Spaniards put together a one-­thousand-­piece puzzle in less than forty-­five minutes. It took the runners-­up an hour and a half. If you watch a video of Los Anónimos piecing together a puzzle, you’ll swear it was shot using time-­lapse photography. They move at 6x speed.

“Their puzzle is made out of cardboard, just like ours,” says Dad when he catches me side-eyeing our new competition. “They need to put it together one piece at a time, just like we do.”

My dad is usually much better at coming up with snappy stuff to say.

He even owns his own advertising agency. His biggest client is Ms. Penelope Pennypickle, “America’s premier puzzle maker.” Jigsaw puzzles are her biggest seller. That’s why Dad and I signed up for this pairs competition at Chicagoland’s “Pennypickle Speed Puzzling Competition.”

Ms. Pennypickle herself is not attending the competition. Dad says she’s something of a recluse. That means she stays home a lot.

Technically, Dad and I can’t win because if you listen to the blah-­blah legal stuff in any commercial for a contest, right after “no purchase necessary” and “void where prohibited” you’ll probably hear something like “employees of Pennypickle Puzzles and its advertising agencies or their family members” are not eligible to win diddly.

So, we play for pride. We play for bragging rights. We play because, like I said, we’re a team.

There must be two hundred people in this hotel ballroom. A few kids like me. Mostly young adults and older folks. One hundred two-­person teams. We’re all waiting for the lady with the microphone to bop her timer and tell us to start.

Dad rubs his scruffy red beard.

I nervously finger-­twirl my shaggy red hair. That’s right. We’re both gingers. Two peas in a pod. If, you know, peas were orangish instead of green.

We stare at the drawstring bag on the table in front of us.

“On your marks,” says our host through her microphone. “Get set.”

I limber up my fingers.

“Go!”

Dad undoes the drawstring and pulls out a shrink-­wrapped box.

I see the top.

Our finished picture will be a cluster of rainbow-­spotted dalmatians standing in the snow. There’s more than 101 of them splattered across three hundred pieces.

Dad is poking at the plastic wrapping, trying to find a seam.

Meanwhile, Los Anónimos have already dumped all their pieces out of the plastic bag that was tucked inside the box that Dad is still struggling to open.

“Got it!” he announces when the film is finally torn free.

He’s about to lift the lid when Emily, his senior vice president in charge of client services, races over, nervously clutching a green envelope.


About

From the New York Times–bestselling author of the Lemoncello series comes Ms. Pennypickle’s next laugh-out-loud puzzle adventure! When she launches a reality-show contest for a million-dollar prize, two kids must outwit cheaters and solve her epic riddles to win.

When Ethan and Benji won Ms. Pennypickle's epic quest, they weren't supposed to tell anyone...so when Benji makes a viral video, Ms. Pennypickle is in trouble! Luckily, her head of advertising, Jack has a plan! It's time to create a Pennypickle reality show and give a few teams a chance to follow in Benji's footsteps and win the ultimate prize. Jack's son, Jackson is a master puzzler...and when one of the contestants, Hope, is without a team member, Jackson steps in to help her race across the country. 

With Hope's mom as their driver, the pair solve riddles, anagrams, word scrambles, and more as they cross the USA hitting sights like a giant Paul Bunyon statue and the St. Louis Gateway arch. But as the two learn to work together and solve the puzzles...another team is determined to cheat their way to the finish. Can Jackson and Hope find their way to a triumph fair and square?

Author

© Elena Seibert
When I talk to kids about my new book THE ISLAND OF DR. LIBRIS, I torture them with a tale of electronics deprivation.
     "My main character, Billy Gillfoyle," I say, "is spending the summer in a cabin on a lake.  There is no cable, no TV, no DVR, no X-Box, no PlayStation 3.  There isn't even an old-fashioned VCR."
     By this point, the kids' gasps become audible.
     "On his first day at the cabin," I continue, "Billy drops his iPhone and it shatters.  The nearest Apple store is several hundred miles away."
     Jaws drop.  The kids are practically weeping – just like my hero, Billy Gillfoyle.  He mopes around the cabin after the demise of his iPhone and ends up in this scene with his mother:
    
  "Billy, what do you think kids did back before video games or TV or even electricity?"
  "I don't know.  Cried a lot?"  He plopped down dramatically on the couch.
  "No, Billy. They read books.  They made up stories and games.  They took nothing and turned it into something."
 
     And that's what happens to Billy in this book:  He learns to start using and trusting his own imagination.
     Characters from books that he reads in Dr. Libris' study start coming to life out on the island in the middle of the lake.   In no time, Hercules, the monster Antaeus, Robin Hood, Maid Marian, The Three Musketeers, D'Artagnan, Pollyanna, and Tom Sawyer are all bumping into each other's stories.  It's up to Billy, with the help of his new friend Walter, and a bookcase filled with classic literature, to "imagine" a scenario that will bring all the conflicts to a tidy resolution. 
     Yep.  In THE ISLAND OF DR. LIBRIS, Billy Gillfoyle is learning how to become a writer.  He puts his characters into situations and conflicts that will, ultimately, take him to the happy ending he, and everybody else, is looking for.
     When all seems lost, he is on the island with his new friends Robin Hood, Maid Marian, and Hercules, despairing that he's not heroic enough to rescue his asthmatic friend Walter from the clutches of the evil Space Lizard (yes, hideous creatures from video games and fairy tales eventually come to life on the island, too.) 
 
  "Ho, lads and lassie!" said Robin Hood.  "All is not lost!  Look you, Sir William – I remember a time when Sir Guy of Gisbourne held me captive in his tower.  Did my band of merry followers let a moat or castle walls stand in their way?"
  "Nay!" said Marian.  "Little John and I didst lead the charge.  Oh, how the arrows did fly that day!"
  "I'm not Little John," Billy said quietly.  "Or you, Maid Marian.  I'm not a hero."  He looked down at Walter's inhaler.  "I'm just a kid who can't even save his own family."
  "Nonsense," said Maid Marian. "Each of us can choose who or what we shall be.  We write our own stories, Sir William.  We write them each and every day."
  "And," added Hercules, "if you write it boldly enough, others will write about you, too."
 
     In my book ESCAPE FROM MR. LEMONCELLO'S LIBRARY, I wanted to make young readers excited about reading and doing research.  I tried to turn a trip to the library into an incredibly fun scavenger hunt, filled with puzzles and surprises.  (In my perpetually twelve-years-old mind, that's what doing research actually is.)
     With THE ISLAND OF DR. LIBRIS, I am hoping to excite young readers about the power and awesomeness of their own imaginations. I want them to take nothing and turn it into something.  To take two old ideas, toss them together, and create something new.
     And, when they write their own stories, maybe some of them will decide they want to become authors, writing stories for the rest of us, too!
     
      View titles by Chris Grabenstein

Excerpt

Chapter 1

When it comes to speed puzzling, my dad and I are almost unbeatable.

Because we’re a super tight team. We don’t need anybody else on our squad, either. He’s Jack. I’m Jackson. Yep. Even our names are tight.

The object of speed puzzling is—­you guessed it—­speed! Whoever finishes the assigned jigsaw puzzle first wins.

“You ready, Jackson?” asks Dad. He’s holding our pickle-­green drawstring bag. Inside is the same puzzle everybody else will discover in their bags.

“Ready.”

Suddenly, there’s wild applause.

The Spanish team just showed up. They call themselves Los Anónimos—­The Anonymous Ones. A pair of dark-­haired, stubble-­faced, twenty-­something dudes in hoodies and Ray-­Bans. They never say much, and they look supercool doing it. They also have their own YouTube channel.

At the World Competition in London, the Spaniards put together a one-­thousand-­piece puzzle in less than forty-­five minutes. It took the runners-­up an hour and a half. If you watch a video of Los Anónimos piecing together a puzzle, you’ll swear it was shot using time-­lapse photography. They move at 6x speed.

“Their puzzle is made out of cardboard, just like ours,” says Dad when he catches me side-eyeing our new competition. “They need to put it together one piece at a time, just like we do.”

My dad is usually much better at coming up with snappy stuff to say.

He even owns his own advertising agency. His biggest client is Ms. Penelope Pennypickle, “America’s premier puzzle maker.” Jigsaw puzzles are her biggest seller. That’s why Dad and I signed up for this pairs competition at Chicagoland’s “Pennypickle Speed Puzzling Competition.”

Ms. Pennypickle herself is not attending the competition. Dad says she’s something of a recluse. That means she stays home a lot.

Technically, Dad and I can’t win because if you listen to the blah-­blah legal stuff in any commercial for a contest, right after “no purchase necessary” and “void where prohibited” you’ll probably hear something like “employees of Pennypickle Puzzles and its advertising agencies or their family members” are not eligible to win diddly.

So, we play for pride. We play for bragging rights. We play because, like I said, we’re a team.

There must be two hundred people in this hotel ballroom. A few kids like me. Mostly young adults and older folks. One hundred two-­person teams. We’re all waiting for the lady with the microphone to bop her timer and tell us to start.

Dad rubs his scruffy red beard.

I nervously finger-­twirl my shaggy red hair. That’s right. We’re both gingers. Two peas in a pod. If, you know, peas were orangish instead of green.

We stare at the drawstring bag on the table in front of us.

“On your marks,” says our host through her microphone. “Get set.”

I limber up my fingers.

“Go!”

Dad undoes the drawstring and pulls out a shrink-­wrapped box.

I see the top.

Our finished picture will be a cluster of rainbow-­spotted dalmatians standing in the snow. There’s more than 101 of them splattered across three hundred pieces.

Dad is poking at the plastic wrapping, trying to find a seam.

Meanwhile, Los Anónimos have already dumped all their pieces out of the plastic bag that was tucked inside the box that Dad is still struggling to open.

“Got it!” he announces when the film is finally torn free.

He’s about to lift the lid when Emily, his senior vice president in charge of client services, races over, nervously clutching a green envelope.


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