Hello, Book Dragons! Today I would like to welcome you all to my stop on the Blog Tour for The Shot By Sarah Sultoon and I would like to share an extract from the book, with all of you. Thank you very much to Anne from Random ThingsTours for the invitation. Please do show some love to all the wonderful book bloggers on this blog tour by following and sharing their work. 🙂
Publisher: Orenda Books
Genre: Crime/ Thriller
Release date: 28 04 2022
Price*: Kindle £4.27 (GBP)/ Paperback £7.91 (GBP)
Kindle $7.49 (USD)/ Paperback $15.95 (USD)
Pages: ~ 276
You can get this book here:
Description of the book: Samira is an up-and-coming TV journalist, working the nightshift at a major news channel and yearning for greater things. So when she’s offered a trip to the Middle East, with Kris, the station’s brilliant but impetuous star photographer, she leaps at the chance
In the field together, Sami and Kris feel invincible, shining a light into the darkest of corners … except the newsroom, and the rest of the world, doesn’t seem to care as much as they do. Until Kris takes the photograph.
With a single image of young Sudanese mother, injured in a raid on her camp, Sami and the genocide in Darfur are catapulted into the limelight. But everything is not as it seems, and the shots taken by Kris reveal something deeper and much darker … something that puts not only their careers but their lives in mortal danger.
Extract from The Shot by Sarah Sultoon
But still the sand had lingered as he gulped and blinked at her, wound so tight in her customary black knits that she may as well have been another incoming tornado herself.
Because it was never Katja staring down a lens at kids dying in the street, zooming in on the miniature sandals torn from their little feet, white-balancing on the pages of their schoolbooks flaming on the pavement. It was never Katja bolting towards the fear while everyone else bolted away. Hanging around for just one more shot – the twisted wheelchair, the splintered walking stick, the destroyed remnants of everyday life that really brought it home. The pictures that were worth the risk, that made people choke on their morning coffee. The images that made those in power sit up, listen, and hopefully change the record. Photographs and video of places normal folks only knew existed because Kris was the one who had taken them. Because Kris was the one who’d looked them in the eye so they didn’t have to.
The fields of skulls. The vulture waiting patiently for the baby to die. The man’s head sticking out of a flaming tyre – necklaced, they called it, as if doing something so unimaginable to another human being should ever transcend to being an actual verb.
And by the time the fireworks started in Baghdad it was only ever Andie’s hand at his back – making sure he didn’t fall, shielding him from crowds, projectiles, whatever else she could see that he couldn’t because he was too busy looking down the viewfinder. By then, Andie was his eyes. Katja had given up long ago. Katja, everybody’s, yet nobody’s, mother. Kris fingered the outline of the passport stashed in its usual zipped cargo pocket, staring at the featureless English countryside blurring beyond the taxi window as the traffic inched along the motorway. Maybe that was why she couldn’t admit she should have remembered his fucking birthday too.
They’d all known for a few days that the airport road was hot. Why else would they all have been benched, ordered not to leave the office under any circumstances, when every news network in the world was desperate to outdo the other on the biggest story in town? You had to travel that thing to get anywhere relevant in Baghdad. And the lot of them had the tip off – it was the same intelligence report doing the rounds. It wasn’t as if each news outfit in place occupied a different corner of the city. They were all living in the same street, locked in together in the same fortified houses, behind the same so-called rings of steel. They all partied with each other, even though at home they were kept in their opposing corners. Out where it mattered, where they were the only ones doing the real work, they were all in it together, enemies closer than friends. The local militia had clocked how Western journalists travelled from the start – their armoured cars may as well have been strippers, wearing smaller bikinis every time. If you were a trigger-happy militiaman, you could always bet on an armoured car on the airport road – the only highway in the place that linked anything of note as far as the invasion was concerned. They may as well have named it the Red Zone alongside their so called Green. That highway just spelled out ‘More Idiots Coming into Baghdad’. The definition of an easy target, if you wanted to have a pop. And as soon as Katja sent the intel up to top brass, that was it. House arrest. Locked up by both sides.
About the author: Sarah Sultoon is a novelist and journalist, whose prior work as an international news executive at CNN has taken her all over the world, from the seats of power in both Westminster and Washington to the frontlines of Iraq and Afghanistan. She has extensive experience in conflict zones, winning three Peabody awards for her work on the war in Syria, an Emmy for her contribution to the coverage of Europe’s migrant crisis in 2015, and a number of Royal Television Society gongs. As passionate about fiction as nonfiction, she recently completed a Masters of Studies in Creative Writing at the University of Cambridge, adding to an undergraduate degree in languages, chosen mainly so she could spend time itinerantly travelling the world. She likes running, Indian food, cocktails, playing sport with her children and throwing a ball for her dog, order dependent on when the cocktails are consumed. The Source is her first novel and is currently in development for television with Lime Pictures.
*-the price was taken from Amazon.co.uk and Amazon.com on the current date. The price might change at the time of your purchase. The links used in this post for book purchases are affiliates.