Chronicles of a Hero by Jaime Buckley Book Tour and Giveaway :)
Prelude
to a Hero
Chronicles
of a Hero Book 1
by
Jaime Buckley
Genre:
YA Fantasy
Nerd.
Introvert. He was the hero they never knew they wanted.
All
Wendell hoped for was a decent job, a hot new car and a girlfriend to
match.
What
he got was the mantle of a legendary hero, the heart of a girl who
had no idea who he really was…and a diamond bigger than his
fist.
What
could possibly go wrong?
Prelude
to a Hero is book one in the Chronicles of a Hero series, by Jaime
Buckley. If you enjoyed Tiffany Aching, Harry Potter or Hitchhikers
Guide to the Galaxy, then you’ll love this humorous, original epic
fantasy, packed with magic, mystery and sharp kicks to the funny
bone.
"I'm
already a HUGE fan of fantasy fiction, this book appealed to me as I
felt it would be something new and unique... I wasn't left
disappointed!"
**only
99 cents**
The
High Elder, still standing in the near center of the room, bowed,
keeping his hand
outstretched
before him. “Dämä Omä, my brother,” he said softly, “I come
with He who was spoken
of. We seek permission to enter.” Squinting,
Wendell couldn’t see anything. What is he doing….and WHO IS HE
TALKING TO??
Even in the glow of the High Elder’s staff, there was no one
there! Trouble
was, Wendell could hear someone move. … or
something. Whatever
it was, it lurked in the shadows. Wendell
suddenly felt grateful the old man was in front of him. He resolved
to not feel bad if he
had to leave his imaginary host in the dust to be eaten by the
unknown to save his own skin. Another
growl. Blast
it! Gotta adjust to this blasted darkness! Closing his eyes,
Wendell silently counted to five, then slowly opened them once more.
The light from the staff burned brighter, the shadows fading
somewhat, until he could make out the walls around him. There,
now we can … Then
he saw it. Well,
sort of. A
warped shadow, swaying … just inside the tunnel.
For
a moment, he wasn’t sure what he was looking at. In fact, Wendell
wasn’t even sure he was
looking at anything—but there was a flicker. Focusing on a single
spot within the darkness, Wendell would catch a sudden blur of
movement in his peripheral vision, but it would vanish as soon as he
tried to focus on it. Again,
there was a deep rumbling, as if from within the chest of … something
huge. Something
close. “Hold
perfectly still,” warned the High Elder intensely, the softer,
“Keep your head bowed.” What
is going on?! The self preservation personality whispered inside
his head. How stupid
ARE
you, Wendell? Run, you idiot. RUN! Leave this old loon behind and RUN
AWAY!! But the weighty
apprehension of uncertainty glued Wendell’s shoes to the ground.
Maybe I’m safer behind the elder? If something tries to get me,
I can always shove the old guy into my escape path before I make a
run for it. Pause. Not…like I can be guilty of murder in a
dream, right? Something
in his gut compelled him to obey the High Elder. This
time. Moving
through the dust in front of them, a chilling scrape across the stone
caused Wendell to
raise his eyes … just in time to see a massive paw mark, bigger than
the whole of his chest, press through the grey layer of dust. … then
another. Only
closer. Wendell
suddenly had a desperate need to pee. The
prints stopped directly in front of the High Elder, who then
calmly … stepped aside. Oh,
no, you don’t! Without
lifting his head, Wendell slid one foot over and then another until
he was behind the
High Elder again. Wendell
felt the rumble from the floor through his feet, causing his legs to
quiver. Surprised,
the High Elder hissed, “What are you doing!?” “It’s
my dream,” Wendell hissed back, “and you’re
expendable!” The
High Elder shifted once more. Wendell
followed suit—keeping the blue man as a meat shield in front of
him. The
low growl seemed a little sharper, almost impatient, this time. “Stop
it!” the High Elder nearly shrieked. “You’ll anger him!” Wendell
shook his head, “Then stop moving!” In
one stunning motion, the High Elder spun, positioning himself
directly behind Wendell
and
pushing him forward, holding him firmly by the shoulders. “Hey! … HEY!!”
squeaked Wendell, struggling. “Stay
there!” the High Elder warned. Wendell’s
entire body convulsed in spasms as he heard…something coming
closer. Why doesn’t
anybody around here LIKE me? Scccraaaape.
Scccraaaape. Scccraaaape. Scccraaaape. Wendell
could see another paw print appear just inches from his own shoes.
Though he felt like
whimpering, he bit his own lip and simply trembled. Like
the sound of a dog sniffing an open hand, intermittent bursts of
humid air hit Wendell in
the chest—leaving his hair and face feeling damp. Gritting his
teeth, he turned his head to the side, clenching his eyes tight and
curling his toes within his shoes. Please
don’t eat me. Please don’t eat me. Please don’t
eat me! AhhAHHHahhhh. As
he was being ‘sniffed’ it occurred to him that spending time with
Dax might not be too frightening
at this point. With
a mild bump … which nearly knocked Wendell over … the huge prints
retreated in the dust. Wendell
gulped. Is … that it? He opened his eyes, watching the prints
appear to the side of the tunnel,
where several small hanging oil lamps, dangling down its center,
flickered to life. See?
That wasn’t so bad after all. I knew I could do it. “Thank
you, brother,” the High Elder smiled. “You have honored your
covenant. We will keep our
end of the agreement. May peace reign with you until your path ends.” Erupting
in a deafening roar, the Key exploded with dust and cobwebs. “What’s
happening?!?” Wendell screamed, stumbling backwards against the
wall. The
High Elder dashed to his side, raising an arm to shield his own face.
“Prepare yourself!”
Race
to Til-Thorin
Chronicles
of a Hero Book 2
Dream
girls. Fried snails. A 30” bodyguard with pink ponytails.
Being
a hero comes with learning curves.
The
curve of a hip. The curve of a sword. The curve of a sucker punch as
it connects with your face.
It
wouldn’t be so bad if Wendell had professionals to help
him.
Instead,
he’s stuck with a feisty gnome, a senile old wizard and a green
skinned, cigar-smoking babysitter to guide him.
Is
it too late to quit?
Fans
of epic fantasy will cheer Wendell on as the Chronicles of a Hero
series continues in book two. Those who enjoy the world building
skills of J.R.R. Tolkien, J.K. Rowling and Brandon Sanderson will
surely get addicted to this original new world.
Feed
your fantasy needs and grab your copy today!
"I
have not laughed so hard in a long time. I don't KNOW how long it's
been. Just when the tension is about to make my heart pop, Chuck or
Dax or a situation will pop up and make you laugh."
Gorack
threw his chain mail to the ground. Large veins pumped adrenaline
tainted blood
through
the monolith. “It
is MY time to lead, Thule!” he roared. “The
dead cannot lead,” Thule answered cooly. He held the challengers
gaze, unblinking, as he unstrapped his sword. He handed it to the
slave. “Take
up your sword and fight me!” Gorack bellowed, beating
upon his chest with an anvilsized fist.
“I WILL cut you down, … coward!”
Thule
entered the forming circle of giants. Supplies were cast aside,
horses left roped and tent left undone. The
camp gathered in silence. Thule
tilted his head forward, enough for his naked brows to cast a shadow
over his eyes. His lips
curled back to reveal his sharpened canine teeth. Lightly tapping the
hilt of the small knife tucked
into his belt, he said, “This will be enough.” A
howling wind cut through the camp, biting flesh, cloth and plate. An
eagle passed high overhead and shrieked. Gorack
lunged across the circle, swinging the chilled blade of steel. Thule
hardly blinked before the gap between them had closed, his one good
eye catching the blur
of movement. Instinctively he threw his shoulders back and felt the
hum of metal slice the air
near his face. Snowflakes spun in its wake. Gorack
was indeed fast. Twisting
at the hips, Thule dodged a second attack … a blade thrust—allowing
it to extend past
his chest. He waited for the body to follow. Dropping
towards his outside knee, Thule reversed his direction, allowing
gravity to increase his
momentum. Opening his hand, he struck the giants windpipe with such
force, the challengers mouth flew open with a reverberating pop. Gorack’s
head and shoulders stopped as his abdomen and legs continued their
forward
momentum.
In an instant, the beast was prone on his back, unable to inhale. “Giving
up so soon, Gorack?” taunted Thule. “I expected more.” Using
the heel of his boot, he stepped on the giants unprotected fingers,
grinding them into the
snow and gravel. Hacking,
the challenger snatched his hand back and rolled to his side. Pushing
off his good hand,
Gorack got to his feet, broken fingers clawing at his throat. Thule’s
grin was unmistakable. “A leader must know when to move.” Upon
the utterance of the last word, Gorack launched a muscular leg in an
attempt to kick Thule’s
midsection.
Sliding
his right side forward, Thule twisted once more. Letting the leg pass
by, he scooped the
calf with one arm and simultaneously delivered an elbow strike, just
above the kneecap, with the other. There was a loud crunching sound. Gorack
gagged, trying uselessly to yell in pain, his body falling forward
onto the ground. Thule
watched the pathetic spectacle drag itself through the mud, towards
the fallen sword. “A
leader must know when to strike.” Forcing
himself up onto his good knee, Gorack grabbed his sword and swung
desperately in a backwards arc behind him. The motion was slow and
clumsy.
Thule
easily ducked under the attack. Snatching
the small rune blade from his belt, Thule stabbed Gorack’s forearm
and ran the knife
up the Vallen’s arm in one continuous motion. The blade melted
through flesh like butter, opening
the flesh wide from wrist to shoulder.
Dropping
the sword, Gorack’s broken fingers went from throat to arm, black
blood cascading to
the ground. Eyes bulging from exertion and lack of air, he wavered.
Purple veins protruded from
his neck and forehead, saliva and foam bubbling through clenched
teeth. Thule
slid behind his challenger and whispered in his ear. “But
most importantly, Gorack, a leader must be the darkest animal
of all.” Without
hesitating, Thule sank his teeth into the giants neck. With
a sharp twist of his head, flesh, muscle and the carotid artery tore
free. Gorack slumped into
the soil, shuddering and twitching. Thick streams of blood pumping
across the ground, seeping
through the snow like oil. Thule
stood motionless. Arms held away from his body, he stood poised,
ready for action. He
waited
for the Seconds in the circle to break the Law of Dominion. Waiting.
Hoping.
His
eyes peered from the shadows of his brow. Weaklings. Slowly
he opened his mouth and let Gorack’s hot flesh drop from his teeth.
He sheathed the small
blade and wiped the blood from his face with his forearm.
Into
the Fire
Chronicles
of a Hero Book 3
Stranded,
alone…with a tree sticking out of his bellybutton.
Wendell’s
task is simple: get to Til-Thorin Keep.
No
problem.
Add
to that no map, no help and no flippin’ idea where he is and you
have a day in the life of our hero.
Oh
wait—we forgot to add the army of cannibals now nipping at his
heels.
It
just might be the death of him.
Elemental
magic and nail-biting action are what you can expect in book three of
Chronicles of a Hero. Fans of Dragonlance and The Hobbit will love
this new addition to the series.
Don’t
wait to grab your copy—buy one today!
"I
think this book will be well-liked by those who like Harry Potter,
but I think it goes to a new level where those who didn't like Harry
Potter can still love this book!"
Dust
and gravel exploded across the courtyard as the portal flashed open.
BAMPH! The
gaping hole, torn in the very fabric of space, vomited—spewing out
water and three figures.
An old man, a gnome … and a troll. Servants
shrieked, children ran and armed guards lowered their spears. High
overhead, the warning
bells of Til-Thorin rang.
“What
did you do?” Alhannah coughed, choking. Her body was drenched and
one of her
swords
was missing. Dax
flopped onto the ground, hacking and blowing water from his nose. He
crawled to the wizards
side. “Help me roll him over, ‘Hannah.” “I
said, what did you do?” “Alhannah!”
he snapped, “Help me with Chuck … ” The
gnome grabbed the wizards legs and turned him onto his back. Dax
placed his oversized ear on the old man’s chest. His eyes grew
wide. “He’s not breathing!” Throwing
the mass of facial hair out of the way, he turned the wizard head,
cleared the airway and
then tilted it back. Dax took a sharp breath and blew. Sliding over,
he laced his hands and started
chest compressions.
“One-one-thousand,
two-one-thousand, three-one-thousand…” he counted. Chuck
coughed loudly, his hands shaking spastically. Dax
grabbed the old man by the shoulders and hugged him tightly. “My,
my,” Chuck said weakly, “someone’s … feeling a bit emotional.” “You
left him,” Alhannah said sternly. She stood just behind Dax, her
fists clenched. “You left Wendell
behind.” “What
is she saying, monkey?” whispered Chuck.
Dax
gently laid him back on the ground, but didn’t answer either of
them. “I’m
talking to you, Dax!” The gnome started pacing, like a small
jungle cat, her eyes fixed on
the
back of the bald, green head. Guards were running down the ramps of
the catwalks,
surrounding
them. “Why did you leave him behind!?” Dax
watched the guards descend upon them. He raised his hands and laced
them behind his head. Alhannah
yanked on Dax’s shoulder, spinning him around in the mud. Her tone
was sharp, eyes
narrow and focused. “We’re supposed to protect him! He TRUSTED
US, Dax!!” He
looked up. “What was I supposed to do?” Red, moist eyes searched
her face, pleadingly. “He’d
already fallen. I couldn’t see him! We had one shot
at this Alhannah, Wendell knew it …
and
look at him,” he nodded at the wizard. “LOOK! He’s hurt.” Dax
choked back a sob, “I’ve never
seen him hurt before, Alhannah.” She
stared at him, puzzled. “What do you mean?” “Hundreds
of years we’ve run together. His magic was so strong, so focused … he
was invulnerable
and now suddenly … ,” he stared at the prone, pale body, “he got
old.” Spinning around
at the gnome, the fierceness in his tone caused Alhannah to take a
step back, “He needed a healer!” But it was an expression he
couldn’t maintain. The lines in his face softened as he whispered,
“He’s all I got, ‘Hannah.”
Trench
Wars
Chronicles
of a Hero Book 4
Wizards.
Elves. Giant Robots with Automatic Weapons.
Wendell
is dying for a change of scenery, but Clockworks City has a ban on
all outsiders.
It’s
a law punishable by death.
So
how does a 5’ 10” human hide among 1.5 BILLION gnomes?
By
competing in the #1 televised extreme sport in the country, of
course.
Enjoy
bullets, babes and a bowl of mushroom soup as this series jumps from
humorous fantasy to comical science fiction! If you enjoy a good
laugh, intense action and unexpected endings, you’ll love book four
in the Chronicles of a Hero series.
Grab
your copy and keep the epic buzz going!
"(got
yelled at by mom to put my Nook away all week....*sigh*) It was that
good."
It
was in the midst of these deserted buildings that Morty finally
stopped. Right under a
flickering
sign that said, After Hour Electronics. Except the “H” had
burned out completely, which changed the sign to, After our
Electronics. Morty
grinned. She still hadn’t changed the dead bulb. He
looked around him several times. Not a soul. Just rolling bits of
paper and garbage running
free along the ground. Strangely enough, it looked just like his own
home … and for a moment,
he wondered what that said about him and Deloris. “Are
we there yet?” grumbled Dax. “SHHHH!”
Morty leaned in close to one of the cracks, “This place is watched.
Keep quiet, or I’ll
walk away and leave you to your own fate.” The crate went silent. At
first glance the building didn’t look like much. In fact, it looked
identical to the others surrounding
it—broken down and abandoned. But Morty knew better. Some of these
buildings were
connected at the basement level. Deloris’s father had purchased
them over the years, expanding
his personal warehouse until he had passed away. Shandy Hinder was a
brilliant man and had become quite wealthy under the guise of
poverty. Deloris was more like her father than she would admit. She
refused to abandon the family business and had moved in when they’d
seperated. Morty
stepped up to the delivery door—two heavy plated slats of steel,
and pressed the buzzer.
The tinkerer swayed on his feet, from heel to toes over and over
again, followed up by a light bounce of impatience. He pressed the
buzzer again. A
small window, not much bigger than the gnomes head, slid open to the
side of the button.
A
dirty-white globe with a retina camera at its center, popped out upon
a long metal stalk. “Password,”
it demanded. Morty
leapt back with an “EEP!” and a pitiful defensive swipe with his
hand. Two
metal sleeves, which looked a lot like eyelids, blinked, then it
repeated, “Password.” He
leaned in nervously, “Deloris, I know you can see me. Please let me
in. I need to talk with you.”The
eye lunged out at Morty, stopping only centimeters from his nose.
“PASSWORD.” “I
don’t have time for this, Deloris. I have a special delivery for
you,” he sighed, “please just open
the door?” The
eyeball blinked, then tilted to one side, as if pondering the
tinkerers situation. “No password,
no entrance.” Looking
over his shoulder, Morty glowered at the crate. You SO owe me for
this, Chuck! And with
that, he turned, placing one hand on his hip and the other up into
the air. Letting his fingers and palm hang loosely from the wrist, he
began to sing. “I’m
a little tea pot, short and … ” he started with a grumble. The
eye blinked again, “ … with FEELING!” Morty
snarled, baring all his teeth. With awkward movement, he danced
around the eyeball, “STOUT—here
is my handle, here is my SPOUT. When I get all steamed up,
hear me SHOUT … tip
me over and pour me OUT!” “HAHAHAHAHA!”
crackled the voice over the speaker. Morty
wiped the sweat from his brow, “Alright, you’ve had your fun at
my expense, now let
me
in.” “BEEEEEEEEEP!”
argued the eyeball, “CLICK. CLICK. BEEEEEEEEEEP! Security
malfunction … please
re-enter password.” Before
it could retract into its cubby, the tinkerer screamed and attacked.
Grabbing the neck of
the device with both hands, he bellowed, “I’ll give you a
malfunction!” Throwing his body weight
forward, he slammed the camera onto the ground, thrusting it against
the surface over and
over again. Metal folded back, plastic cracked and glass shattered.
In moments, the delicate lens of the camera hung loosely from the
small wires of its circuitry. Morty laughed triumphantly, almost
psychotically. The machine tried to resist the onslaught, tugging and
pulling backwards to retreat towards its hole, but the gnome was too
heavy, too strong.
The
voice was faint, but finally sighed with irritation, “Entrance
granted.” Several
clicks later, the large service doors unlocked and slid open. Morty
dashed to his cycle, revved it up and squealed into the warehouse
before anyone could change their mind.
Second
Chances
Chronicles
of a Hero Book 5
Fame.
Fortune. Thrown into the City incinerator.
Wendell’s
chance at the title was always a long shot.
Since
then he’s been on TV, Radio and even has the attention of The
Church.
Fact
is, he’s more popular than ever.
So
why are people trying to kill him?
(It’s
the cheesy goatee, isn’t it.)
Second
Chances is book 5 in Jaime Buckley’s Chronicles of a Hero series.
Laugh, cheer and bite your nails as this epic fantasy takes you on a
crazy ride, twisting down ramps and out a back window!
Pick
up a copy today!
"You
know you have found a great book when you want to slap the author and
give the author a hug at the same time, when you take some of the
plot turns personally."
“Take
his legs, Mal.” “There’s
no time, Enid,” complained Mal, “The furnace is going to ignite
soon!” “All
the better to get a move on,” snapped the scrawny bearded gnome,
“so grab his legs!” Mal
hobbled over, grasping his own gouged leg. His wounds had never
healed properly and it was
always a struggle to do his job for the community. Yet he never
complained. Mal would never fail to do his duty. Enid
sighed, “I’m sorry Mal. That was unkind of me.” Mal
knelt at the broken, bloody body between them. Looking upward, he
could faintly see the
trap door high above them, still swinging open. The body had to have
hit the higher piles of garbage and bounced its way down. Skin raked
over glass and metal shards…it was unimaginable. He
shook his head, “It’s me who should apologize. Someone’s been
cruel to this boy, for whatever reason. I’ll not add to his
suffering.” He looked at Enid and gave him a quick wink, “Besides,
no one falls this far and lives. Has to be a good sign, right?” “Don’t
start.” Mal
chuckled, “Then let’s move, before we all become ash.”
****
Wendell’s
eyes fluttered. “Ohhhhhh,” he started to moan, then thought
better of such a bad idea.
W—what happened to… His eyes opened slowly, to a soft
orange glow. The ceiling looked like
near transparent sheets of paper taped together. Sweat trickled down
his brow, beads of perspiration
rolling into his ear. It was warm. No. It was hot. A rank, moist heat
and it wasn’t long
before the intense smell around him made Wendell gag. It smelled like
he was lying in a decaying
compost pile. What is that smell!? He
wanted to get up, but the moment he tried to turn his head, he
shrieked out loud. “AHHRGH!”
Wendell bit his lip in agony. Ok, never mind. I don’t want to
move. Moving is
really,
really bad. There
was a sound of heavy cloth rustling above his head, then, “Hey!
Don’t go moving about, young
man. We’ve only made sure you had all your parts!” Enid walked
around the makeshift table
so Wendell could see him without straining. “You’re safe now.
With friends.” The
pain in his back and legs were sharp and jagged, like lying on
knives. Taking a slow breath
as deeply as he could, he flinched. Broken ribs? Back maybe? He
blinked a few times, trying
to get his eyes to adjust to the odd light. “Names
Enid. And you are?” He
swallowed, his tongue feeling more like cotton than flesh. “Wendell,”
he forced out, then coughed.
The flexing of muscles was so painful, it caused even more
contractions, which shot pain through his spine. Come on Ithari,
do me a favor and kick in, would you? This is killing
me. The thought almost made him laugh. If he was in this bad of
shape, chances are, he should be dead. The
Ithari had saved him again, of course. Scratch that, he
corrected himself, I’ll just say thanks. If only he didn’t
have to feel all the pain! “What’d
you do to make your buddies so mad?” Wendell
tried with his might to fight the excruciating stabbing sensations in
his joints and muscles
and force himself to relax. “Excuse me?” Enid
walked around to the other side of the table and started unwrapping
the bandages on one
of Wendell’s arms. “People don’t usually get thrown in the
incinerator. Well, not for no reason,
anyway. That would just be plain mean. So what did you do to get
thrown into a garbage chute?” Wendell’s
eyebrows rose high on his forehead, I’m in a… “Garbage
chute? As in…” “Takin’
out the garbage,” Enid finished casually. “Skins, cans, boxes,
and thank goodness—the leftover scraps from the tables of our great
nation.” He shot Wendell a crazy, wide-eyed glance, “Or
we’d all starve down here!”
The
Truth About Lies
Chronicles
of a Hero Book 6
Caught.
Tortured. Scheduled for execution. Any Questions?.
Wendell
and Dax are exposed and the gnomes of Clockwork City are freaking
out.
Are
they spies? Is this an invasion? Was this all just a terror tactic to
get gnomes to pay their taxes?
Now
with Wendell under arrest and Dax under armed guard, it’s going to
take a pardon from President Shrub to set them free.
Good
thing Chuck’s planning to kidnap his kids.
The
Truth About Lies is book six in the Chronicles of a Hero series by
Jaime Buckley. The series that makes you laugh, squirm, grit your
teeth and has you begging for more.
Make
sure to grab yourself a copy!
"I
loved this book because it takes a misfit who was never really liked
or appreciated and it shows the beginning of the process of him
unlocking his potential and becoming something greater than anyone
would have imagined for such a small, insignificant person."
The
loudest noise was the incessant pulsing of blood through his ears.
No, it was more of a
pounding,
like huge drums of war, resonating the coming of danger. It was
another moment before
he realized it was his heartbeat … and he was sorely afraid. Wendell
blinked as the rain drizzled down his face. The
Trench Wars stadium wrapped around him, a monumental gnome creation,
where fans stood
in front of their seats, watching. Two
million…eerily quiet gnomes. Wendell,
Dax and a bloody, unconscious Alhannah stood atop the champion
platform. Moments
ago they’d won the greatest extreme sport in the country. A moment
after that, the charms
they were wearing, hiding their true identities, had failed. The
cameras now burned their faces onto screens and into the minds of
a billion more viewers at home. A human and an evolu that looked
more like a vallen with a vertical growth problem. “Psst!”
Dax grunted nervously. With his shoulder in a sling, it was near
impossible to hold up Alhannah.
She was drooped over his hip, her hands now scraping the ground.
“Wendell!” he grunted
again, this time louder. He finally had to let the girl slip out of
his grasp. Kneeling down with her, Dax prevented Alhannah from
hitting her head. “Hang in there kiddo … ” he said softer. But
Wendell wasn’t paying attention to his companions. Instead, the
hero watched Dusty Beckworth
and Pip Flocker, the Trench Wars announcers, sprinting across the
arena floor towards
the nearest exit. He had the funny feeling that he wasn’t going to
retain the title of Grand
Champion for much longer.
Wendell
swallowed, gulping air with saliva, which could be heard several feet
away. His eyes slowly
lowered to locate the microphone at his feet. What
do I do? Say something. Yeah, I need to say something. Reassure the
fans? They look … well, stunned.
Are they scared? No one’s moving out there—they’re just staring
at us. Is … that a good thing?
The
beat of his heart continued to pound through his head and chest. Why
are they all so quiet? THA-THUMP-THUMP! “Port
us out of here, Dax.” The
elf looked up, confused. “What?” To
the west of the platform, one of the pilot pit door opened and
Centurions, clad in their mirrored
helmet and black leather riot suits, marched out. Two lines with a
dozen gnomes each. In
their hands they carried long, blue rods that sparkled at the ends.
THA-THUMP-THUMP! “I
said get us out of here, Dax—port us! Hurry!” The
gigantic ears twitched as the sound of heavy boots stomping in unity,
resonated through the
stadium. Distant thunder, drifting towards the podium. “Right,”
Dax said, unsure, “get close kid, I don’t know how much strength
I got.” Wendell
knelt down, curling his body as close to Alhannah as he could.
Clenching his eyes tight,
he waited for the loud crack that followed the elf ’s teleportation
magic. “Ungh … ” Dax
slumped over and collapsed, sliding off Wendell’s back. He hit the
platform with a thud. For
several moments the elf lay there, blood pumping fiercely from under
his bandage across his forehead. The red liquid snuck out and trailed
between his oversized brows, across his tiny nose and over his
cheekbone onto the ground. “Dax!” “I’m
alright,” he winced. “Just can’t port. It’s too much.” “It’s
ok, I’ve got you,” Wendell grunted, lifting the elf up and
flinging him over a boney
shoulder.
Reaching down, he scooped Alhannah up in the other arm, cradling her
smaller body like an infant to his chest. Wendell
ran.
The
Price of Fame
Chronicles
of a Hero Book 7
Honest
Politicians. Humane Terrorists. Religious Devils.
Then it gets
confusing…
Wendell’s
learned that gnomes are just as irritating and dangerous as
humans…they just come in smaller packaging.
Citizens
are rebelling, the government’s collapsing, the Church is selling
off the poor and Dax’s head on the chopping block.
All
Chuck needs to get everyone home is a city wide diversion, a flying
S.L.A.G., four lawyers, a hand grenade…and a tiny bit of
string.
It
feels good when a plan comes together!
The
Price of Fame is book seven in the Chronicles of a Hero series by
author Jaime Buckley. If you love a good laugh and incredible plot
twists to keep you guessing, this book will curl your toes and put a
smirk on your face!
"…packed
with wild imaginations and inspirations. It’s a rarity that a YA
book contains the combination of those three things but Wanted: Hero
has them. Seriously, you don’t want to miss reading this book in
your lifetime."
“You
could always change your mind and pilot this bucket for me,” Chuck
said from behind them
all. He strode out from the pit with Burton and Lili. They both
looked extraordinarily nervous
beside him. Ernie
shook his head, “I’m grateful and all for the deals you’ve made
and what you’ve done, Chuck,
but I’m not going back to jail for anyone. Breaking into the
Citadel is not an option. It’s just
not smart.” “Goodness
boy!” the wizard blurted out, “No one claimed to be smart, just
desperate.” Nibbles
put a hand to her mouth to hide her smile. “What are you wearing?” Chuck
snapped the goggles over his face and zipped up his bright orange
jump suit, which made
him look more like a fruit popsicle than a pilot. He wore large black
boots, laced up over his
calfs and black leather gloves. Across his chest in big, black
letters was the slogan: Old Men Shoot For The Moon.
He ran a thumb under the words and grinned. “Cool, huh?” “Cool
is not the word I would use,” Tumbler chuckled. Telly jabbed him to
silence. “How
did he do?” Ernie asked his brother. Burton
stared back, numbly. “Well?”
Ernie prodded. His
brother scratched his cheek, averting his eyes, “He did learn how
to turn the engines on.” Telly
gulped. “And you want him to fly thousands of feet into the air?” “Well … ,”
Burton scratched his head, “No.” “Then
how is he supposed to get this machine up there and rescue Dax?”
Freak gasped, “We made
all the alterations … and Nibbles even made him some special goodies
for the security, but you still have to pilot the darn thing … ” “Bah!”
snorted Chuck, “Just aim me at the penthouse and shoot me up.
Traveled with the Barkum
and Buntley Circus for ten years back in the day. Colby Barkum was a
clever gnome— used to shoot me out of a huge cannon,” he jabbed
Burton in the shoulder and winked, “Kids loved it. Landed in
whipped cream.” His face froze, “Course, … I never liked waiting
for them to eat me free.” He shuttered. “This
is hardly the same thing as propelling a person through the air.” “Oh
I know that,” the wizard balked, “we’ll need a bigger cannon.
That and a whole lot of whipped
cream.” They
all sighed. “Why
do I have to know all the silly details about piloting anyway? I have
brighter people down
here who can do that for me,” and he patted Ernie on the back. Ernie
bit his bottom lip nervously, “Chuck, the controls … ” “So,
we ready to go?” the wizard cut in, clapping his hands together
eagerly. “Not
quite,” said Burton. “We can’t launch from the stadium. The
trajectory is all wrong. If we aim
you from here, you’ll smack the backside of the building and miss
the penthouse altogether.”
“Right,”
Chuck said thoughtfully, “It wouldn’t be proper to smack anyone’s
backside.”
“Stop
it,” Lili poked him. “You need to listen carefully—they’re
trying to help.” “Sorry.”
“Because
of all the riots breaking out in the city, I think we have a great
opportunity to get this
machine into a key position. The government has Centurions posted all
over the place as extra
eyes and ears, so we’ll need to use one of the parts trucks instead
of a S.L.A.G. carrier. If you launch from here, all the fingers will
point to us.” “Can’t
let that happen,” Ernie said plainly, “They’ll shut us down.” “Right,”
his brother nodded, “which
“What
about coming back down?” Lili asked. “Won’t the Centurions be
watching?” “I
wouldn’t worry too much about that,” Burton assured her, “Chuck
knows what to do.”
She
snapped her head around at the wizard, “You do?” Chuck
tapped the tip of his nose.
**Special
Tour Promo!!**
Get
all 8 books + 2 Wallpapers for only $9.99!!
Jaime Buckley married young, winning the heart of a beautiful Samoan princess and together, they had 12 amazing children.
One of the original
‘lost boys’ of Peter Pan, Jaime never truly grew up. Though he is
respected as a traditional father figure, he still enjoys late night
conversations with Santa Clause, flirting with the Tooth Fairy and
has an occasional beer with Bigfoot. Wizards and warriors seek
his counsel while monsters tremble at the mention of his name.
An accomplished
writer and illustrator of all things fictional, Jaime has a passion
to entertain and uplift. He loves God, his country, his family and
continues to expand his influence and friendships by stepping
onto the Twitch platform as a Creative streamer. Jaime can always be
found through Wanted Hero, his greatest project, and
passion.
Tired
Old Gnomes
I've learned
that stress doesn't end--it simply fluctuates.
The first seven
books of Wanted Hero are
complete, but now it's a race to complete the next book, along with a
couple of the field guides from Höbin Luckyfeller.
When writing
the first guide, my wife and I made a wonderful discovery. The book
was nearly complete, but when Kathi read it, she made a good point:
it needed to be more of a journal and less of a text book.
Personally, I'm
a sucker for details.
Tell me there's
a new book out on the Klingon language or the specs of the Millennium
Falcon and I'll be in line at the book store. Wanted Hero
is supposed to be something different. It's about
personalities and writing from the perspectives of the characters. To
show you what they see in the world around them and why.
So I'm sitting
here with all the schematics on Sanctuary and their delicate
ecosystem and BAM! ...I need to start at the beginning and take the
trip on a personal level.
Through the
eyes of an old, tired, Gnome field researcher who finally get's his
dream of going to the City of Light on the moon of Käläm.
You heard it
first here, on this blog!
Kinda cool.
So the trip is
going to be personal, from a journal point of view, to enrich the
world of Elämä and provide more depth, without having to compromise
the storyline in any way whatsoever.
Höbin
Luckyfeller’s books are meant to be independent and not required
reading, but how cool would it be to make these an alternative to a
bestiary? To enjoy the full benefits and fun of the main story
through side adventures of a historian?
So you’ll get
all the facts and figures, but they’ll be more fun to read and
experience, enhancing the main storyline.
Question
for you:
I'd like to
know what you think about the idea of doing a series of live events
where I read my books to readers. This, of course, would be for those
who prefer audiobooks…but I had this idea to craft some YouTube
playlists of reading my own books and making those free to fans.
Please give me
your feedback and let me know what you think!
Follow
the tour HERE
for exclusive excerpts, guest posts and a giveaway!
Three amazing prizes!!!
#1)A one-of-a-kind full
color HD character sketch from the books--of ANY character the winner
wants, created in a live stream session and autographed to the winner
by name. (a $300 value)
#2) a
PDF copy of the first 5 unedited chapters of Chronicles
of a Hero, Book 8: Howling Shadows
(scheduled
to be released fall 2019)
#3) A digital copy of
'An Unsolvable Problem' (any format)--the Origin Story of Dax, one of
the main characters of the Chronicles of a Hero story (not available
for sale).
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