Hello, Book Lovers!

I have some exciting news!

If you’ve a James Lalonde Insider, you’ll know that I’ve released a second edition of book one in the Rookie Reporter series with a new title: The Reporter at the Gate.

The original title, The Candidate, sounded a bit too much like a political thriller when in reality it was a gripping murder mystery, which created some minor disappointment for readers expecting something political. The new title better reflects the murder mystery at the heart of the story.

It’s More Than Just a Title Change

Since I was changing the ISBNs for the various paperbacks and audiobooks because of the title change, I took the opportunity to create a more immersive reading experience by adding depth to the setting through the eyes of the point-of-view characters, James, Anwar, and David.

Initially, the story was a little bare-bones, a classic beginner’s mistake. I wanted to ensure that book one would be an enjoyable read for years to come, so a second edition made perfect sense.

Without further ado, here is a bit about the story.

PROLOGUE

Monday, 28 June 2010, 11:57 p.m.

Gasping for air, Albert opened his eyes. As the crystal chandelier on the high ceiling came into view, he groaned. With a deep breath, he gripped the bodkin arrow wedged into his chest and pulled. Gritting his teeth, Albert rolled onto his side.

The room spun as crimson flowed from the wound in his chest. Discarding the mediaeval arrow, Albert reached for his walking cane. The blasted thing had finally come in handy for the first time since his ice-skating accident.

Albert scrambled to his feet and made his way to his antique desk. Perched on the edge of the desk, he tugged on his tie until it slipped into his hands. Taking another deep breath, Albert straightened his tie and secured it around his chest, over the arrow wound.

With a sigh, Albert glanced at the ceiling. Don’t wake her, you fool. His wife was thirty-two weeks pregnant and waking her would just stress her out. That’s the last thing she needed. After all, she was forty-one, and as her obnoxious obstetrician pointed out, her pregnancy was geriatric. He needed to get to a hospital without waking his wife. Thankfully, with pregnancy came the added bonus of being able to sleep like a bear in the dead of winter.

Albert surveyed the tabletop and his study. A suit of fifteenth-century plate stood to attention like a dour butler, visor down, reflecting the crystal chandelier in little, accusing suns. The floor-to-ceiling bookshelves loomed above him, lined with leather-spined volumes, a globe that had never once been circumnavigated, not even by his finger. His banker’s style desk lamp hummed like it was on the verge of sharing all of his secrets, but had decided at the last minute not to speak. Even here, among tasteful antiques and soft rugs, the house had the smug confidence of a criminal who had gotten away with murder.

Then he remembered. My phone. Earlier in the evening, his phone went flat after he’d binged his favourite unsolved mysteries podcast. He’d placed it on the charging dock on his bedside table. There was no way he could ascend the stairs in his condition. Pulling out the arrow was a mistake. Why did you do that, you old fool?

Thanks to his stupidity, he would bleed to death in less than ten minutes. The room spun. Even if Albert had his phone, calling emergency services would be useless. The nearest hospital was nineteen minutes away. As Victoria’s pregnancy progressed, Albert had learned the route and calculated the distance between his house and the hospital. He had measured the quickest route while driving over the speed limit. Leaning back, Albert stared at the ceiling. Calling emergency services was crossed off his list, so he had only one option left. He was kidding himself. At the grand-old age of sixty-one, it was highly unlikely that he’d survive. Maybe if he were twenty years younger, things might be different. If only he hadn’t pulled out that stupid antique.

Albert grimaced as a wave of pain swept through his body. Then he realised something. He could go somewhere else, somewhere better, and it was only a ten-minute drive away. There would be no traffic at that time of night. So his reckless decision would ruin no innocent lives.

As the clock on the mantel chimed midnight, Albert grabbed his keys off the desk. Another wave of pain swept through his body. He grimaced as he thrust his frame off the tabletop, then staggered across the thick carpet towards the door, which was ajar. Albert smirked as he heard his cane hit the floor.

Frightened that he was going to wake his wife, Albert gritted his teeth. He clutched the doorframe for support as the room spun. Curious, Albert peered over his shoulder at the carnage he was leaving. He must’ve lost at least half a litre of blood.

Leaning against the wall for support, Albert staggered down the hall and towards the foyer. He soon regretted the foyer renovations and those shiny white tiles Victoria loved so much. As he reached the end of the hallway, Albert wheezed. Only twenty feet until the door.

Albert shuffled across the tiles and moaned as he unlatched the locks on the front door. He grabbed the handle and turned it. A tear trickled down Albert’s cheek as he realised he would never get to take his daughter home from the hospital or kiss his wife again.

After closing the door behind him, Albert stumbled towards his silver Mercedes. He pressed the button on his key fob. Reaching out, he grabbed the handle of the car door. Peering over his shoulder, Albert grimaced. He was glad that he had been too lazy to close the driveway gates when he came home earlier that evening. He slumped into the driver’s seat, closed the door, then reversed out of the driveway. All he had to do was not pass out behind the wheel.

I hope you loved the prologue and found it intriguing.

Unfortunately, I’m no longer providing advanced reader copies at this time. But you can buy The Reporter at the Gate direct from me at the launch price of 99 pence (for a limited time only) by clicking the button below.

Happy reading, everybody! 

Amelia xx