Also available in The Long and Short of It. Ever wondered how it all began? It’s two years since the final victory at the Battersea Barricades. The fighting might be finished, but for Dr Bairstow, just now setting up St Mary's, the struggle is only beginning. How will he assemble his team? From where will his funding come? How can he overcome the massed ranks of the Society for the Protection of Historical Buildings? How do stolen furniture, a practical demonstration at the Stirrup Charge at Waterloo, students’ alcohol-ridden urine, a widowed urban guerrilla, a young man wearing exciting knitwear, and four naked security guards all combine to become the St Mary’s of the future?

"History is just one damned thing after another." Behind the seemingly innocuous façade of St Mary's, a different kind of historical research is taking place. They don't do 'time-travel' - they 'investigate major historical events in contemporary time'. Maintaining the appearance of harmless eccentrics is not always within their power - especially given their propensity for causing loud explosions when things get too quiet. Meet the disaster-magnets of St Mary's Institute of Historical Research as they ricochet around History. Their aim is to observe and document - to try and find the answers to many of History's unanswered questions...and not to die in the process. But one wrong move and History will fight back - to the death. And, as they soon discover - it's not just History they're fighting. Follow the catastrophe curve from 11th-century London to World War I, and from the Cretaceous Period to the destruction of the Great Library at Alexandria. For wherever Historians go, chaos is sure to follow in their wake....

Book Two in the madcap time-travel series based at the St Mary's Institute of Historical Research that seems to be everyone's cup of tea. In the second book in the Chronicles of St Mary's series, Max and the team visit Victorian London in search of Jack the Ripper, witness the murder of Archbishop Thomas a Becket in Canterbury Cathedral, and discover that dodos make a grockling noise when eating cucumber sandwiches. But they must also confront an enemy intent on destroying St Mary's - an enemy willing, if necessary, to destroy History itself to do it.

Also available in The Long and Short of It. It's Christmas Day 1066 and a team from St Mary's is going to witness the coronation of William the Conqueror. Or so they think. However, History seems to have different plans for them and when Max finds herself delivering a child in a peasant's hut, she can't help wondering what History is up to.

St Mary’s is back and nothing is going right for Max. Once again, it’s just one damned thing after another. The action jumps from an encounter with a mirror-stealing Isaac Newton to the bloody battlefield at Agincourt. Discover how a simple fact-finding assignment to witness the ancient and murderous cheese- rolling ceremony in Gloucester can result in CBC – concussion by cheese. The long awaited jump to Bronze Age Troy ends in personal catastrophe for Max and just when it seems things couldn’t get any worse – it’s back to the Cretaceous Period again to confront an old enemy who has nothing to lose. So, make the tea, grab the chocolate biscuits, settle back and discover exactly why the entire history department has painted itself blue …

Also available in The Long and Short of It. Another rollicking short story from the Chronicles of St Mary's. Question: What sort of idiot installs his mistress in his wife's house? Especially when that mistress is Cleopatra VII Thea Philopator, Queen of Egypt and the most notorious woman of her time? Answer: Julius Caesar - poised to become King of Rome. Or as good as. Question: At this potentially sensitive point in your political manoeuvrings, who are the last people you'd want crashing through the door, observing, recording, documenting ...? I think we all know the answer to that one. Roman Holiday - an epic, stand alone tale set in Ancient Rome, 44 BC, featuring, in no particular order: an attempted murder, stampeding bullocks, Cleopatra, Queen of the Nile, a bowl of poisonous snakes, a smallish riot, Julius Caesar, and Mr Markham's wayward bosoms.

St Mary’s is back and is facing a battle to survive in this, the fourth instalment of the Chronicles. Max and Leon are re-united and looking forward to a peaceful lifetime together. But, sadly, they don’t even make it to lunchtime. The action races from 17th century London to Ancient Egypt and from Pompeii to 14th century Southwark as they’re pursued up and down the timeline, playing a perilous game of hide and seek until they’re finally forced to take refuge at St Mary’s – where new dangers await them. As usual, there are plenty of moments of humour, but the final, desperate, Battle of St Mary’s is in grim earnest. Overwhelmed and outnumbered and with the building crashing down around them, how can St Mary’s possibly survive? So, make sure the tea’s good and strong…

Also available in The Long and Short of It. It's Christmas Eve at St Mary's, And all through the house, Nothing is stirring ... Except for Max, Peterson, and Markham, sneaking out at midnight for an assignment that is very definitely off the books. It's ten years ago tonight that Senior Historians Bashford and Grey went missing in twelfth-century Jerusalem. So how did they end up in AD60 Roman Colchester? Max has a theory. Peterson has a plan. Markham has bacon sandwiches. Colchester has Boudicca and her bloodthirsty Iceni hordes. And then there's the giant pig ... the enraged giant pig ...

Jodi Taylor’s best-selling series The Chronicles of St Mary is back with a bang… St Mary’s has been rebuilt and it’s business as usual for the History department. But first, there’s the little matter of a seventeenth-century ghost that only Mr Markham can see. Not to mention the minor inconvenience of being trapped in the Great Fire of London…and an unfortunately-timed comfort break at Thermopylae leaving the fate of the western world hanging in the balance. Re-join Max’s madcap journey through time in Jodi Taylor’s fifth inter-dimensional instalment No Time Like the Past.

Join Max in the sixth instalment in the off-the-wall bestselling Chronicles of St Mary’s series by Jodi Taylor. Max is back! New husband, new job, and a training regime that cannot fail – to go wrong! Take one interim Chief Training Officer, add five recruits, mix with Joan of Arc, a baby mammoth, a duplicitous Father of History, a bombed rat, Stone Age hunters, a couple of passing policemen who should have better things to do, and Dick the Turd. Stir well, bring to the boil – and wait for the bang!

It’s Christmas again at St Mary's and time for Max’s obligatory illegal jump. On this occasion, however, they’re right up against it. A loaded gun has been left behind in Ancient Egypt and it’s up to them to retrieve it before anyone accidentally blows their own head off, thus affecting the timeline for centuries to come. And as if that’s not enough, someone (Max) has inadvertently poisoned Mr Markham. It’s hot, they’re running out of supplies, they can’t find the gun, and it’s all going horribly wrong. Again.

'I've done some stupid things in my time. I've been reckless. I've broken a few rules. But never before have I ruined so many lives or left such a trail of destruction behind me.' As Max would be the first to admit, she's never been one for rules. They tend to happen to other people. But this time she's gone too far and everyone is paying the price. Grounded until the end of time, how can she ever put things right?

Also available in The Long and Short of It. Everyone deserves to get away for a bit. Even the miscreants at St Mary's. Astonishingly, Dr Bairstow has declared a holiday. Even more astonishingly - he's paying for it. Needless to say, there are strings attached. They have to record the 1601 performance of Hamlet, with Shakespeare himself in the role of the Ghost. It doesn't go well, of course.

Also available in The Long and Short of It. Like a smaller and much scruffier Greta Garbo – finally – Markham speaks! It’s Christmas and time for the first (and almost certainly last) St Mary’s Annual Children’s Christmas Party – attendance compulsory, by order of Dr Bairstow. Discovered practising his illegal reindeer dance and poo-dropping routine, our hero, along with fellow disaster-magnets Peterson and Maxwell, is despatched to Anglo-Saxon England to discover the truth about Alfred and the cakes. In his own words, our hero reveals Major Guthrie’s six-point guide to a successful assignment and the Security Section’s true opinion of the History Department. And of historians in general. And of one historian in particular. And, just to be clear, it is time travel, for God’s sake. Forget all that pretentious ‘investigating major historical events in contemporary time’ rubbish. This is history without the capital ‘H’. Because this is the way the Security Section rolls!

Desiccated Water I was on my way to Peterson’s office for our Friday afternoon meeting. The one where he opens out a bottle of wine, I get out the glasses, and we both put our feet up and have a huge moan about the previous week. Sometimes the meetings are quite long. Anyway, I was making my way around the gallery, juggling the half dozen or so files I’d brought with me as camouflage – because it doesn’t do the other ranks any good at all to see a couple of senior officers setting a bad example – although, to be fair, most people were outside watching the Security and Technical Sections eviscerate each other in the name of sport – when Professor Rapson erupted – literally – from his lab shouting, ‘Eureka!’ He was fully clothed. Trust me – it was the first thing I checked. I said, ‘Good afternoon professor,’ because that’s how Markham would do it. Apparently now he’s Head of Security, standards must be maintained. What sort of standards of course, he never says. ‘Ah Max. Good news. I’ve done it.’ ‘So I gathered, professor. Jolly well done.’ ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I know it’s been a while but we got there in the end.’ ‘Excellent news, professor’ I said, trying to ignore the glass of wine shaped hole in my life and failing dismally. ‘I look forward to reading your report.’ ‘No, no, you don’t understand, Max. I’ve really done it.’ I stopped thinking about wine and concentrated. This was Professor Rapson after all. I asked the question I should have led with. ‘Exactly what have you done professor?’ ‘Well, as you know Max, water is very heavy.’ I stared at him. He looked comparatively normal. His hair was standing on end. He had a huge acid burn on one sleeve of his lab coat of which he appeared completely oblivious and was wearing one brown and one black shoe, so as I said – normal. He was, however, waving around a beaker of clear fluid. I stepped back because it could be anything. The Elixir of Life. Cerebral brain fluid – although if it was his it would probably be a little murkier. An untraceable deadly poison that would kill us all in seconds. Anything, really. He raised the beaker to his lips and drank deeply. I braced myself but nothing dreadful seemed to happen to him. ‘Water, Max. Water. I’ve done it.’ He raised the empty beaker. I half expected a flash of lightning and shouts of ‘It’s alive! It’s alive!’ but that usually relates to Markham. ‘What were you expecting, professor?’ ‘Well, water, obviously, Max.’ Never had a glass of wine seemed so far away. ‘Professor, please tell me – what is the project you’ve been working on?’ ‘Oh yes, of course. Well, as I said, Max, water is heavy. Leon’s always complaining about the weight of the tanks and how that messes up his calculations and he’s right so I thought I’d have a go.’ ‘At what, professor?’ ‘Desiccated water.’ Oh God ... ‘What?’ ‘Desiccated water, Max. Powdered water. The answer to all our problems. We reduce water down to a fine powder, bag it up in plastic and hey presto, portable water. No more tanks, no more heavy water bottles – just stick a couple of packs in your supplies and away you go. Small packs for your pocket. Something larger if you want a bath. Simple. Quick. Easy. Convenient.’ ‘Wow,’ I said. ‘That’s brilliant professor. Well done.’ ‘Thank you,’ he said modestly. ’I’m just off to show Chief Farrell.’ ‘He’ll be thrilled,’ I said, happily sacrificing Leon’s Friday afternoon, but wine deprivation can do that to a girl. ‘You must give him a complete demonstration. Several, in fact.’ ‘I will,’ he said, hair standing even more on end as he prepared to depart at top speed. ‘Just one question, professor.’ ‘Mm?’ ‘How do you reconstitute the powder?’ ‘What?’ ‘The powder. How exactly do you reconstitute desiccated water?’ ‘Oh, that’s easy.’ ‘’Yes? He regarded me as an idiot. ‘You just add water.’

No one knows quite how, but Max and her baby are safe at last. No one knows quite how, but Peterson has persuaded Dr Foster to marry him. No one knows quite how, but Markham’s marital status remains unknown. Certainly no one knows quite how a twelve-foot-high teapot could mysteriously materialise on the South Lawn, but it does. But they do know that Clive Ronan is back. They do know that he hates them and that this time he has good cause. And they do know that he will bring death and destruction in his wake. Follow the disaster magnets of St Mary’s from the Egyptian desert to the Battle of Stamford Bridge, from Hastings to the Sack of Constantinople, and from tragedy to triumph and back again, in this, the eighth book in The Chronicles of St Mary’s.

Markham and the Anal Probing And then there was the day when Markham managed to get himself snatched by aliens – or so we thought at the time. I was summoned to Dr Bairstow’s office to find Markham and Peterson already present. We looked at each other. ‘Any clues?’ I asked. They shrugged. ‘You can go in now,’ said Mrs Partridge, so in we went. He looked up from his desk. ‘There you are.’ We agreed that yes, here we were. He gestured at his briefing table on which reposed several archive boxes and a fat folder. ‘The County Archivist has been good enough to make available various documents requested by Dr Dowson. A condition was that we do not expose them to the hazards of a random delivery service.’ It was not clear whether it was the company or its delivery that was random, but we nodded anyway. ‘And so, I would like you, personally, to return these valuable documents with my compliments and thanks.’ He handed Peterson an envelope. ‘Of course, sir.’ ‘This afternoon, if you please.’ Peterson glanced at his watch. ‘It’s already afternoon, sir.’ ‘How quickly you grasp my meaning.’ ‘I do my best, sir.’ ‘I have assured the County Archivist that my best people are on the job. They being unavailable, however, I have therefore designated my Chief Operations Officer, my Head of Security and my Deputy Director to fulfil this simple task.’ His Deputy Directory, Head of Security and Chief Operations Officer assembled their best air of cool professionalism – which in our case consisted of standing a little straighter and not picking our noses. I don’t think he was impressed, staring at us bleakly for a few seconds and then demanding to know why we were still here. Since Peterson was burdened with the envelope, Markham and I seized the boxes and we left with all speed. ‘Right,’ said Peterson, ‘I shall assume full control of this mission.’ Markham made a rude noise. ‘Get changed and meet in the car park in ten minutes. That’s ten minutes, Max. No wafting around in front of mirrors trying on dresses.’ Now I made a rude noise. We met in the car park, shoving Markham and the boxes in the back, and departed. ‘A nice afternoon out,’ said a voice from behind the boxes, and we agreed. Now I know what you’re thinking. I can hear exactly what you’re thinking, so I will say now that the boxes were delivered on time and to the correct destination. The County Archivist herself took delivery so God knows what was in them. Peterson, after a series of nudges from me, remembered to hand over Dr Bairstow’s letter of thanks and they gave us a cup of tea. They were lovely people. I wish I worked there. We set off for the return trip, hoping to be back in time for tea, and things started to go wrong almost immediately. Peterson caught my eye. I always think that sounds as if you’ve been indulging in a quick game of eyeball tossing, but I knew what he meant ‘So,’ he said, almost casually, negotiating the last roundabout out of town and accelerating away, ‘how are things with you and Hunter?’ ‘OK,’ said Markham vaguely. ‘I think.’ ‘Don’t you know?’ ‘Well, it’s hard to tell sometimes, but I always think if she’s not coming at me with a kidney bowl then, you know, things aren’t too bad.’ ‘Why would she come at you with a kidney bowl?’ ‘Because she can’t find a bedpan.’ Peterson tried again. ‘So – got any celebrations planned then?’ ‘What for?’ ‘Well, you have an anniversary coming up.’ ‘What anniversary?’ ‘Wedding. You know. You and Hunter.’ There was a long silence from the back. ‘Don’t know what you mean.’ ‘I worked it out,’ said Peterson in his best I’m Peterson and I’m brilliant voice. ‘I’m looking at Hunter these days and she’s looking very well, isn’t she? Blooming, almost. And she’s a very moral girl is our Hunter. Well, she has to be since you don’t have a single moral to your name, so I reckon you had the ceremony just before or just after the Battle of St Mary’s which means there’s an anniversary coming up.’ There was a lot more silence from the back. ‘Oh come on,’ said Peterson. ‘Admit I’m right and the then the two of us can buy you a celebratory drink in the bar.’ More silence. ‘I’m right, aren’t I? Go on – say I’m right.’ Even more silence. ‘I don’t know why you won’t admit it,’ he said, slightly exasperated. ‘Are you ashamed of something? Wait until I tell Hunter you’re ashamed of her.’ He paused, hopefully. Nothing but silence. I pulled down the passenger’s sun flap and looked at the mirror. Markham was sitting with his arms folded and a stupid grin on his face. ‘I reckon,’ said Peterson, ‘the two of you snuck into the Register Office without telling anyone but I’m going to make you tell me just the same.’ Silence. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘You asked for it. Hold on tight, Max.’ We swerved off the road into a field, skidding to a halt in a shower of dust, stones and indignant birds. ‘What are we doing here?’ said Markham, picking himself up off the back seat and peering out of the window. ‘We’re staying here until you tell us.’ He switched off the engine and folded his arms. ‘Not another yard until you tell us the truth.’ Markham folded his arms. ‘Never.’ I began to make plans for spending the rest of my life in a field. The silence dragged on, only to be broken by the sounds of Markham getting out. ‘Where are you going?’ I said, in some alarm. ‘We’re still not supposed to go anywhere alone.’ ‘Well I’m not staying here with you two maniacs. If you want to sit in a field you can do it on your own. I’m off.’ We watched him walk across the field and out of the gate. ‘Bollocks,’ said Peterson. ‘Well, that worked, didn’t it?’ ‘Bollocks,’ he said again. ‘Look, why don’t you just check the records at Somerset House? It’s a simple enough process.’ ‘That’s not the point. I want him to tell me.’ I surveyed the vast, empty field. ‘How’s that working out for you?’ He cursed again and switched on the engine Markham was a couple of hundred yards up the road. We passed his plodding figure with a merry toot of the horn. ‘It’s four miles back to St Mary’s,’ I said, watching him recede in the wing mirror. ‘Do him good.’ ‘Ronan,’ I said warningly. ‘We shouldn’t leave him alone.’ ‘No,’ he said reluctantly. ‘You’re right. We shouldn’t.’ We pulled into a layby and waited. He never came. We waited some more. ‘For crying out loud,’ said Peterson. ‘I know he’s Security Section, but surely even he can’t have got lost between there and here.’ I sighed. ‘I’ll go and look for him. He might just be taking a rest.’ ‘I’ll come with you,’ he said, getting out. ‘No one should be alone, remember?’ ‘Markham,’ I said accusingly. ‘We left him alone.’ ‘He doesn’t count.’ We walked to the bend and looked. The road was empty. We could see for miles. No Markham. Not anywhere. ‘Shit,’ I said. We rotated slowly. Where could he be? ‘He’s cut across the fields,’ said Peterson. ‘Hang on.’ He climbed onto the car roof and surveyed the flat countryside. The flat, empty countryside. ‘Shit,’ I said again, beginning to panic. ‘We’ve lost him.’ ‘We can’t have,’ he said, climbing down. ‘Then where is he? Oh my God, we’ve lost Markham.’ ‘Look,’ he said. ‘The little sod’s in a ditch somewhere. Either he fell in and hurt himself – perfectly possible – or he’s hiding under a hedge to teach us a lesson. We’ll go and find him, kick the living shit out of him for frightening us like this, and then he can buy us a drink afterwards.’ I looked up. It was the only direction left. ‘Do you think he’s been snatched by aliens?’ ‘Always a possibility,’ he said, locking the car. ‘Although if so then they’ll be returning him in a hurry any minute now.’ ‘No, seriously,’ I said as we set off, him on one side of the narrow lane and me on the other. I peered into ditches and looked under hedges. ‘It’s the only explanation. You hear about this sort of thing all the time. You know – anal probing.’ ‘For God’s sake, Max, get a grip. Why on earth would super intelligent beings cross the vastness of space just to firkle around in Markham’s bottom area. Would you?’ ‘God, no.’ ‘Well there you are, then. Anything your side?’ ‘Nothing. Where could he be?’ ‘I don’t know, but it’s four miles back to St Mary’s.’ It was at that moment we heard the car start up. We stood paralysed for a moment and then Peterson screamed, ‘Bastard,’ and set off at a run. I pounded along behind him and we raced back around the bend just in time to see Markham pull out of the layby. He waved, gave us a merry toot, and sped away out of sight. We skidded to a halt. ‘Didn’t you lock it?’ I said accusingly. ‘Of course I did, but it’s bloody Markham, isn’t it? He could hot-wire a rock’. ‘It’s four miles back to St Mary’s.’ ‘He’ll stop around the next bend,’ said Peterson, reassuringly. ‘He’s just teaching us a lesson.’ He was and he didn’t. Four bloody miles. With Peterson vowing grim retribution with every step. And we missed tea.

You don’t have to travel through time to experience catastrophe on an epic scale, as the disaster-magnets from St Mary’s are about to find out… For Max, what starts off as a perfectly normal week is about to degenerate into a quagmire of egotistical film producers, monumental pub crawls, unsigned contracts, exploding rocks, Professor Rapson and his megaphone, the world’s biggest bacon butty – and Angus – the third component of the most notorious love triangle since Menelaus, Paris and Whatshername – the one with the face they launched ships off. A Perfect Storm of calamity, devastation and misfortune only ever encountered at St Mary’s.

The First Farrell Family Christmas Max, Leon and Matthew - together at last for Christmas at St Mary's - a time of conspicuous consumption, riotous misbehaviour and the traditional illegal Christmas jump. And this time, it's inter-generational. Donning her unfamiliar mother hat, Max takes Matthew back to 19th century London, where they plan to deliver a parcel of Christmas cheer to his former friends, but find themselves confronting the terrifying Old Ma Scrope in the process. 'Tis the season to be jolly. It's also the season of goodwill towards all mankind. Pity no one told Max.

Behind the seemingly innocuous facade of St. Mary’s Institute of Historical Research, a different kind of academic work is taking place. Just don’t call it “time travel”―these historians “investigate major historical events in contemporary time.” And they aren’t your harmless eccentrics either; a more accurate description, as they ricochet around history, might be unintentional disaster-magnets. From Tudor England to the burning city of Persepolis, from a medieval St. Mary’s under siege to Victorian Rushford and a very nasty case of gaol fever, Max is struggling to keep her private life intact. There’s an ambitious programme hindered by giant teapots, plus Mrs. Midgely’s objection to dead hamsters in her airing cupboard, and Mr. Markham’s stubborn refusal to reveal his exact marital status. And as if that’s not enough―the unfortunately not leprosy-laden Malcolm Halcombe is back. Admittedly, none of this is the most secure platform from which to launch an initiative to bring down the renegade Clive Ronan, but hey―what’s the worst that could happen?

It's not easy being a rebel. So many new skills to assimilate. Never mind strategic planning, weapons expertise and the like - there's bicycle-stealing, oil-stain removal and boat steering to be mastered first. And quickly. It's the time of the Civil Uprisings and two young women set out to make a difference. Their only problem? They don't know where they are. Or where they're going. Or what to do when they get there. Other than that ... Fans of St Mary's will enjoy this glimpse into the past of some of their favourite characters.

Not one to let being banged up in Sick Bay stop her, Max has had a brilliant idea. But she needs Markham to execute it on her behalf. The subject of this cunning plan is Peterson, struggling with another bereavement and not doing very well. What’s needed to get him through it is sympathy, sensitivity, tact and understanding. Step forward Mr Markham, for whom sympathy, sensitivity, etc., are things that happen to other people. Combine a fanatic from R&D, a head of Security with his own problems, a steam-pump, two historians who can’t even be in the same room as each other, some fractious Protestants and a large body of very dirty water. Told in Markham’s own words, this is the story of an intervention – St Mary’s style.

Here's a question for you. What's the most exciting thing ever found in a fire bucket? And don't say 'fire' because you'll be wrong. Suppose - just suppose - it was the technology to take a pod to Mars? Yeah, now we're talking! Every Christmas, for reasons which seem good at the time - especially after an eggnog or two - Max and the others leap into the nearest pod and indulge in their illegal Christmas jump. It's a tradition. This year, however, just to be different, they find themselves part of someone else's illegal Christmas jump. It's time to don a spacesuit and bring your own urine!

The tenth book in the bestselling Chronicles of St Mary's series which follows a group of tea-soaked disaster magnets as they hurtle their way around History. If you love Jasper Fforde or Ben Aaronovitch, you won't be able to resist Jodi Taylor. You can't change History. History doesn't like it. There are always consequences. Max is no stranger to taking matters into her own hands. Especially when she's had A Brilliant Idea. Yes, it will mean breaking a few rules, but - as Max always says - they're not her rules. Seconded to the Time Police to join in the hunt for the renegade Clive Ronan, Max is a long way from St Mary's. But life in the future does have its plus points - although not for long. A problem with the Time Map reveals chaos in the 16th century and the wrong Tudor queen on the throne. History has gone rogue, there's a St Mary's team right in the firing line and Max must step up. You know what they say. Hope for the best. But plan for the worst.

'Max, your father is here. He's come to take Matthew away' Have you ever wondered what would happen if Max's husband met Max's father? What would Leon do? They're normally a fairly amiable bunch, but this is the story of what to expect if St Mary's doesn't like someone. As in, really doesn't like someone. Warning: contains a unit-wide criminal enterprise, a great deal of illegal activity and a sad misuse of public resources. All the things a father will do to protect his family. It is also a story of revenge. Because this is payback - St Mary's style.

A special Chronicles of St Mary's Christmas short story that is sure to entertain. If you love Jasper Fforde or Ben Aaronovitch, you won't be able to resist Jodi Taylor. Bannockburn. Major Guthrie. The traditional St Mary's illegal Christmas jump. All terribly straightforward, surely...

The eleventh book in the bestselling Chronicles of St Mary's series. I would have trusted this man with my life. Until a couple of days ago, anyway. You know what they say - hope for the best, but plan for the worst. Max is quite accustomed to everything going wrong. She's St Mary's, after all. Disaster is her default state. But with her family reunited and a jump to Bronze Age Crete in the works, life is getting back to normal. Well, normal for St Mary's. And then, following one fateful night at the Tower of London, everything Max thought she knew comes crashing down around her. Too late for plans. The worst has happened. And who can Max trust now?

A short story, dedicated to NHS workers, inspired by the recent toilet roll crisis.

Max is in sick bay (again) where Dr Stone investigates her apparently larger-than-normal nostrils and finds something interesting. Free to read on Jodi's blog: joditaylor.online/blogs/news/the-girl...

A Christmas ghost story - Chronicles of St Mary's style! For fans of Doctor Who and Jasper Fforde...and A Christmas Carol. Where better for the annual festive jump than the chance to experience a real Victorian Christmas? On the longest night of 1895, a terrible storm rages above Harewood Hall. Max, Markham and an injured Peterson are welcomed in by the Harewood family, but quickly realise that the gathering is far from celebratory. For tonight marks the Ordeal of the Haunted Room. Every Harewood heir must endure one terrifying night alone in the Haunted Room before he can inherit the family seat. Legend says that ghosts will murder anyone who isn't the true heir. Francis Harewood's ordeal will begin at midnight and end at dawn, but it isn't long before everything goes horribly wrong....

'It's time, Max.' And so, a whole new chapter opens up... It's long been known that if a thing can go wrong, it will. With knobs on, usually. Disasters start to pile up. A new colleague with no respect for the past and a great deal to prove. Historians lost in time. And - worst of all - Rosie Lee on her very first jump. Then there's the small matter of Max's dishonourable discharge. From Tudor England to the Tower of Babel - it's all going horribly wrong. Jobless and homeless, Max receives an offer she can't refuse. Another time, another place. A refuge, perhaps. She's got that wrong, too.

Once again, the Toast of Time falls butter side down. Dr 'Max' Maxwell prepares for her very first Christmas away from St Mary's... It's that most wonderful time of the year once more. But Max and Markham are a long way from St Mary's. What sort of Christmas will it be without their loved ones? Settle down with a mince pie and a small sherry and prepare for an unlikely combination of Flying Auctions, Fabergé eggs, duped Time Police officers, the Parish Council, a TWOCed Bentley (no, not that one), legendary swords and a belligerent ram. Will it be Peace and Goodwill to all men? Well, we all know the answer to that...

When all is lost. When everything is ending. When there's no hope. When you can't win. That's when you attack. Punching well above their weight, Max and Markham set out to bring down a sinister organisation whose roots might be firmly embedded in the future but whose focus is the past. Max's focus is staying alive long enough to reunite with Leon and Matthew - alternately helped and hindered by St Mary's. Who aren't always the blessing they like to think they are. And that's not all. Are the effects of constantly leaping around the timeline beginning to make themselves felt? Is Max going mad? Or are the ghosts of the past finally catching up with her?

St Mary's is under investigation. Their director has been shot and Max is Number One Suspect. Can things get any worse? We all know the answer to that one. Max needs to get away - fast - and a Brilliant Idea soon leads her to a full-scale uprising in twentieth-century China. If she can come by a historical treasure or two in the process, even better. That is, if she makes it out alive. Then there's the small matter of Insight - the sinister organisation from the future hell bent on changing History for their own dark ends. Having successfully infiltrated their ranks, Max is perfectly placed to stop them. But she knows her cover will soon be blown - because it's already happened. Can Max take down Insight before they come after her? The circle is closing, and only one can survive...

Merry Christmas from Jodi Taylor. It's time for St Mary's traditional Christmas jump - even though it's only September... St Mary's has never lacked for enemies, but danger has never been closer to home. A state of war has broken out between St Mary's and the Women's Institute - the Raffia Mafia. Markham, Max, Peterson and Miss Sykes must jump to Restoration London in search of real Christmas pie - the honour of St Mary's is at stake. At least that how it all begins, but this is St Mary's after all...

Coming to a screen near you... TEMPORA, THE TIME TRAVELLING TOURIST Starring Astrid Gustafsson as Helen of Troy - 'the face that launched a thousand ships' (Homer) With Dirk Thrust as Achilles - 'demi god and hero' (Homer) And the Wooden Horse as Himself - 'easily the least wooden performance from anyone participating in this particular travesty' (Dr Maxwell) Watch and weep as this epic tale unfolds... It's drama, darling! In this year's festive tale, the nation's favourite film producer, Calvin Cutter, returns to darken the doors of St Mary's once again...

Now in print for the very first time, this unmissable collection brings together seven short stories from the internationally bestselling Chronicles of St Mary's series, and one special guest tale from somewhere completely different. \\Includes brand-new St Mary's short story When Did You Last See Your Father? and original introductions from the author\\From riotous misbehaviour in Victorian London to ingenious feats of scientific invention (powdered water - just add water!), and from a chaotic Nativity play starring a vengeful Angel Gabriel to an illegal expedition to Mars, Jodi Taylor knows how to spin a good yarn. —-Christmas Past The Farrells are together at last for their first St Mary's Christmas, a time of riotous misbehaviour and the traditional illegal Christmas jump - this time to Victorian London.Battersea Barricades A glimpse into the past of some of your St Mary's favourites characters in the throes of Civil Uprisings.The Steam-Pump Jump St Mary's Max is injured and tied to Sick Bay but obviously a good historian would never let that get in her way. Step forward, Mr Markham...And Now For Something Completely Different Who would the St Mary's team be to turn down a little Christmas expedition to Mars? An illegal Christmas jump is traditional, after all.When Did You Last See Your Father? Have you ever wondered how things would go if Max's husband met Max's father? This is the story of what can happen if St Mary's doesn't like someone...Desiccated Water Professor Rapson breaks astonishing new ground with his latest feat of scientific invention. Markham and the Anal Probing When Markham disappears in the middle of nowhere, Max jumps to the logical conclusion - alien abduction. Little Donkey A chaotic Nativity play like no other, starring a donkey intent on eating the baby Jesus and a vengeful Angel Gabriel.

In the always eventful worlds of Jodi Taylor, it's never Christmas without illegal expeditions, riotous misbehaviour and stories you just can't put down . . .This festive collection takes readers from Frogmorton Farm to Time Police HQ via the Institute of Historical Research at St Mary's in five (and a bit) short stories. A Bumper Bundle of Christmas tales all in print for the very first time.Includes a Christmas message from the author herself and an exclusive new St Mary's scene, 'A Storm in a Teacup' —- Why is Nothing Ever Simple? For once, this Christmas jump is perfectly legal - though that doesn't make it any less dangerous. It's Major Guthrie's last, and to the Battle of Bannockburn, no less.The Ordeal of the Haunted Room Who wouldn't jump at the chance to experience an authentic Victorian Christmas? Complete with a murderous ghost and one terrifying night in a terrible storm.The Toast of Time Max and Markham prepare for their very first Christmas away from St Mary's, sure to be full of Peace and Goodwill to all men . . . plus Fabergé eggs, legendary swords and a belligerent ram.Santa Grint It all begins when the Time Police hold their first Christmas Party. Their most dangerous mission yet.Joy to the World When things take a unseasonably tricky turn on Frogmorton Farm, only Thomas can step in to save Christmas day . . .—-'A Christmas treat that didn't disappoint' ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐'Christmas wouldn't be Christmas without a short story from The Chronicles of St Mary's' ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐'What more could you want in your stocking on Christmas morning' ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐'A highlight of my Christmas' ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐'As much a part of my Christmas as the pantomime, mince pies and the King's speech' ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

The Chronicles of St Mary's Boxset Vol 1 includes bestsellers Just One Damned Thing After Another, A Symphony of Echoes and A Second Chance. “History is just one damned thing after another” - Arnold Toynbee Just One Damned Thing After Another – Book One in The Chronicles of St Mary’s A madcap new slant on history that seems to be everyone's cup of tea... Behind the seemingly innocuous façade of St Mary's, a different kind of historical research is taking place. They don't do 'time-travel' - they 'investigate major historical events in contemporary time'. Maintaining the appearance of harmless eccentrics is not always within their power - especially given their propensity for causing loud explosions when things get too quiet. Meet the disaster-magnets of St Mary's Institute of Historical Research as they ricochet around History. Their aim is to observe and document - to try and find the answers to many of History's unanswered questions...and not to die in the process. But one wrong move and History will fight back - to the death. And, as they soon discover - it's not just History they're fighting. Follow the catastrophe curve from eleventh-century London to World War I, and from the Cretaceous Period to the destruction of the Great Library at Alexandria. For wherever Historians go, chaos is sure to follow in their wake ... A Symphony of Echoes - Book Two in The Chronicles of St Mary’s Max and the team visit Victorian London in search of Jack the Ripper, witness the murder of Archbishop Thomas a Becket in Canterbury Cathedral, and discover that dodos make a grockling noise when eating cucumber sandwiches. But they must also confront an enemy intent on destroying St Mary's - an enemy willing, if necessary, to destroy History itself to do it. A Second Chance - Book Three in The Chronicles of St Mary’s St Mary’s is back and nothing is going right for Max. The action jumps from an encounter with a mirror-stealing Isaac Newton to the bloody battlefield at Agincourt. Discover how a simple fact-finding assignment to witness the ancient and murderous cheese- rolling ceremony in Gloucester can result in CBC – concussion by cheese. The long awaited jump to Bronze Age Troy ends in personal catastrophe for Max and just when it seems things couldn’t get any worse – it’s back to the Cretaceous Period again to confront an old enemy who has nothing to lose. So, make the tea, grab the chocolate biscuits, settle back and discover exactly why the entire history department has painted itself blue…

The Chronicles of St. Mary's Series 10 Books Collection Set by Jodi Taylor: Just One Damned Thing After Another: When Madeleine Maxwell is recruited by the St Mary's Institute of Historical Research, she discovers the historians. A Symphony of Echoes: Dispatched to Victorian London to seek out Jack the Ripper, things go badly wrong. A Second Chance: It began well. A successful assignment to 17th century Cambridge to meet Isaac Newton, and another to witness the historic events. A Trail Through Time: Max and Leon are safe at last. Or so they think. Snatched from her own world and dumped into a new one, Max is soon running for her life. No Time Like The Past: The St Mary's Institute of Historical Research has finally recovered from its wounds and it's business as usual for those rascals in the History Department. What Could Possibly Go Wrong?: With great privilege comes great responsibility, something Max knows only too well, and as newly appointed Chief Training Officer at the St Mary's Institute of Historical Research. Lies, Damned Lies, and History: Max has never been one for rules. They tend to happen to other people. But this time she's gone too far. And the Rest is History: When an old enemy appears out of nowhere with an astonishing proposition for Max - a proposition that could change everything Max is tempted. An Argumentation of Historians: January 1536 - the day of Henry VIII's infamous jousting accident. Hope for the Best: Max is no stranger to taking matters into her own hands. Especially when she's had A Brilliant Idea.

Titles In This Set: What Could Possibly Go Wrong? A Symphony of Echoes A Trail Through Time A Second Chance Just One Damned Thing After Another No Time Like the Past What Could Possibly Go Wrong?: Max is back! New husband, new job, and a training regime that cannot fail - to go wrong! Take one interim Chief Training Officer, add five recruits, mix with Joan of Arc, a baby mammoth, a duplicitous Father of History, a bombed rat, Stone Age hunters. A Symphony of Echoes: Book Two in the madcap time-travel series based at the St Mary's Institute of Historical Research that seems to be everyone's cup of tea. In the second book in the Chronicles of St Mary's series, Max and the team visit Victorian London in search of Jack the Ripper, witness the murder of Archbishop Thomas a Becket in Canterbury Cathedral, and discover that dodos make a grockling noise when eating cucumber sandwiches. A Trail Through Time: St Mary's is back and is facing a battle to survive in this, the fourth installment of the Chronicles. Max and Leon are re-united and looking forward to a peaceful lifetime together. But, sadly, they don't even make it to lunchtime. A Second Chance: St Mary's is back and nothing is going right for Max. Once again, it's just one damned thing after another. The action jumps from an encounter with a mirror-stealing Isaac Newton to the bloody battlefield at Agincourt. Discover how a simple fact-finding assignment to witness the ancient and murderous cheese- rolling ceremony in Gloucester can result in CBC - concussion by cheese.