For my twenty-first book, I've jumped into romantic suspense with this one - here's a bit about it.
What They're Saying:
“The abiding power of a first love resonates throughout this compelling story of loss and redemption.” Warren Adler, author of War of the Roses
“The Seacrest is a poignant love story that will have you reaching for the tissues. Every woman needs a Finn McGraw!” – Victoria Howard, bestselling romantic suspense author of RING OF LIES.
"At a time when many authors seem to crank out fiction by the numbers, Aaron Paul Lazar invests his whole heart in every book he writes. His stories shine with sensitivity, compassion, and the richness of deeply personal experience." – Michael Prescott, bestselling thriller author of GRAVE OF ANGELS
"Aaron Paul Lazar takes his reader on a ride that moves between wildly intense and slowly sensuous. It is a gripping love story that transports readers to a land of sea and lovers and life." -Maria B., reviewer
“…Beautifully drawn, The Seacrest explores twin mysteries of past and present tragedies that combine into a fascinating tale in which a young couple overcomes life’s misunderstandings, while reaching for the truth.” - Sheila Deeth, author of Divide by Zero
“This book is about love – first love, young love, unrequited love, lost love, and rediscovered love. Simply put, it’s a good old-fashioned love story with an ending that will make your heart swell with joy.” - Cindy Guest Taylor, acclaimed book reviewer
Synopsis:
They say it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
Finn McGraw disagrees.
He
was just seventeen when he had a torrid summer affair with the girl who
stole his heart—and then inexplicably turned on him, just before being
sent to boarding school. Finn may have moved on with his life, but he’s
never forgotten her.
Now,
ten years later, he’s got more than his lost love to worry about. A
horrific accident turns his life upside down, resurrecting the ghosts of
his long-dead family at the same time it takes the lives of the few
people he has left.
Finn
always believed his estranged brother was responsible for the fire that
killed their family—but an unexpected inheritance with a mystery
attached throws everything he knows into doubt.
And
on top of that, the beguiling daughter of his wealthy employer has
secrets of her own. But the closer he gets, the harder she pushes him
away.
The Seacrest is a story of intrigue and betrayal, of secrets and second chances—and above all, of a love that never dies.
Excerpt:
PART I
Love and Loss
Chapter 1
July 2, 2013
Life
can change in the blink of an eye. This blink came when a cop car
cruised up The Seacrest’s white shell driveway on a hot Saturday in
July.
I’ll never forget the moment. You know how folks remember
where they were when John Lennon died? Or when President Kennedy was
assassinated? It was like that, every detail stamped into my brain,
forever.
A fresh breeze laden with the scent of the sea rustled
blue flowers in a nearby hydrangea hedge. Hot and sweaty, I stood in
the blazing sun feeling like a fool. I’d just finished weed wacking
around the paddock fence posts. Unfortunately, said weed wacker had
spooked Libby Vanderhorn’s favorite mare, Serendipity, who I secretly
called Dippy, because she was such a loose cannon. She’d bucked and
twisted like a bronco in a Wild West show, knocking down several fence
boards and unseating Libby, the boss’s daughter.
Libby ran The
Seacrest’s dressage school and was an experienced rider, but this time
she’d been caught by surprise and landed in a sprawling heap on the soft
dirt, swearing at me.
At thirty-two years old, she stood tall
and willowy, and quite lovely if you didn’t count the personality. When
she came at me, she didn’t mince words. We were about the same age, but I
worked for her family, and she never let me forget it. The sting of her
accusations still sounded in my head.
How stupid can you be, Finn? What’s wrong with you?
Libby’s
father held great power on Cape Cod. Rudolph Vanderhorn sat on so many
boards, I’d lost count. His father’s fish canning company made a fortune
back in the eighties, and he and his daughter had enjoyed the spoils
ever since.
I stooped to pick up a hammer from my toolbox,
planning to reattach the fence boards before any of the horses got hurt
on the protruding nails. Curious now, I watched the Brewster Police car
circle the long drive, heading toward the mansion. The local authorities
stopped by every few days to discuss town matters with my boss. But
today the blue light was flashing, which didn’t look like a casual
visit.
A shudder went through me, and I turned cold. Something bad had happened. I sensed it.
The
front door opened, and Rudy watched them approach, one hand shading the
sun from his eyes. Like a majestic lion, he stood broad-shouldered and
strong, his longish white hair lifting in the sea breeze.
Libby
stopped hosing down her big white mare, who thankfully hadn’t hurt
herself in the fit she’d thrown earlier. The horse snorted and rubbed
her big head against her owner’s arm as if to scratch an itch. Long,
dark hair blew around Libby’s face, and she stared with open curiosity
at the cruiser, rhythmically combing her fingers through the mare’s
curly mane.
Time froze.
I stood still, gripping the
hammer, studying the patrol car as it drove past the front porch with
its impressive columns and portico. It didn’t stop for Rudy, but passed
the six-car garage, followed the driveway to the barn, and rolled to a
stop ten feet from me, lights still flashing.
Police Chief Kramer and Deputy Lowell stepped out and ambled toward me, their eyes somber.
I dropped the hammer; it thudded to the grass near my feet.
“Finn?” Kramer said, approaching slowly. “I’m afraid we have bad news.”
There
is nothing worse than hearing that bad news is about to be delivered.
My brain went wild, imagining the worst scenarios. But somehow I didn’t
quite picture what he was about to tell me.
“There’s been an accident,” Kramer said.
Lowell,
a high school football star in his day, kicked the dirt at the edge of
the path. “Car went over the cliffs,” he said, avoiding my eyes.
“For God’s sake, guys.” I looked from Kramer to Lowell. “
Who was in the car?”
Kramer
pulled out a piece of paper. “I regret to inform you that your wife,
Cora Mae McGraw, and your brother, Jaxson Robert McGraw, have been
killed in a vehicular accident.”
Deputy Lowell touched my sleeve, then awkwardly stepped back. “We’re real sorry, Finn.”
“Car went into the ocean,” Kramer said. “We believe they were dead on impact.”
I stared at them, numbness creeping up my spine. “What the hell?”
“Er,
look, if there’s anything we can do...” Lowell seemed remorseful, and
he offered a hand when I lost my balance and grabbed for the fence.
Libby
and her father appeared at my side in seconds, but in the dreamlike
state of denial and shock, I caught only brief snatches of their words,
as if the wind had grabbed them, teasing me with the bits and pieces.
“What happened?”
“Bad accident.”
“She died?”
“
Who was with her?”
And so on.
Libby
guided me across the lawn and around back to the mansion’s cavernous
kitchen. I leaned woodenly against the refrigerator while the family’s
beloved cook, Fritzi, bustled her big, ample self about the kitchen
making coffee and pushing fresh corn muffins at the officers.
Someone
helped me into a chair. I sat, dazed and unmoving. The voices warbled
around me and now my brain began to pick through the new knowledge,
still not comprehending.
Cora’s dead?
It wasn’t real. Couldn’t be real.
Jax is dead?
I hadn’t seen my brother in ten years.
Ten years since I’d even
talked to him. I sometimes almost drove past the blueberry farm, thinking of my old life. But I never actually stopped there.
Ten
years since my parents died in that fire. Since I lost my little
sister, Eva. Ten years since my family burned because of that cigarette
smoldering in the couch.
Ten freaking years.
I didn’t
even know what Jax looked like anymore. Had he lost hair? Gained weight?
Turned prematurely gray like our father did in his thirties?
Ten years.
A shudder passed through me. A great gulping sound sputtered from my throat. I think I started to hyperventilate.
I locked eyes with Libby, whose mouth was moving. I couldn’t hear her.
Cora is dead.
Jax is dead.
Laying my head on my arms, I silently convulsed.
One thought wandered around the edges of my brain, refusing to go away, in spite of the enormity of what had happened.
What the hell was Jax doing with Cora?
***
Get your copy at any of these stores:
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Aaron Paul Lazar writes to soothe his soul. A multi-award winning author of three addictive mystery series, writing books, and
a new love story, Aaron enjoys the Genesee Valley countryside in upstate New
York, where his characters embrace life, play with their dogs and grandkids,
grow sumptuous gardens, and chase bad guys. Visit his website at
http://www.lazarbooks.com and watch for his upcoming Twilight Times Books
releases, SANCTUARY (2014), and VIRTUOSO (2014).
Connect with Aaron Lazar
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Here are a few blurbs from advanced reviewers:
