Lost Shots, by Aaron Paul Lazar

How long will it take before we can burn images stored in our brain onto a computer? Do you think it will ever come to pass? I hope so, because even though I used to dabble in art in college, I never inherited the landscape gene. I could do portraits, from live models or pictures, but I didn’t have the knack to capture a glowing sunset or wavy grasses, or a frothy seascape. Perhaps, with the proper training, I could make a decent stab at it, but for now the only way I can immortalize scenes of nature is through the lens or with my pen. Figuratively speaking, that is, since I haven’t written books with a pen and paper in many years.

Lately, I’ve been lamenting potentially award-winning photos that I’ve missed. Lost shots. Those showstoppers, the gorgeous scenes I couldn’t acquire because of unsafe driving conditions or a timetable that didn’t allow lollygagging. I still see them, clear as cold lake water, simmering and shimmering in my mind’s eye.

The first lost shot occurred one fall, many years ago. We’d been scurrying around all morning, getting ready to deliver chairs to our customers. One of my side jobs, besides engineering, writing, and photography, is chair caning. My wife does the hand caning, and I do the rush, splint, flat reed, and pressed cane. Every Saturday morning, we load up the van with chairs and head for Honeoye Falls and East Bloomfield, where we deliver them to the shops that hire us. My wife and daughter were with me that morning, since we were going to squeeze in a little breakfast at George’s, our favorite small town. We were hungry. We were late. And I forgot my camera. Of course, this was before iPhones with their handy dandy cameras.

It happened only five minutes from the house, and I’ll never stop kicking myself for not turning around to go back. The night had been cold, and the morning dawned sunny. Frost crackled under our shoes as we tromped across the lawn, and there was a freshness to the air, heightened by the icy morning. We traveled north on Lakeville-Groveland Road, and when we passed Booher Hill, I glanced eastward. This is one of my favorite stretches of land, where multiple layers of trees, fields, and hills delineate the ridges that cradle Conesus Lake. When the sun rises over the eastern shore, it kisses the lake valley with rose, orange, lavender, and hot yellow.

This morning, however, the sun had risen hours earlier. But what greeted my eager eyes was not the sun, but a cloud.

I’m talking about a fully-fleshed, cotton ball cloud. It sat directly on top of the lake, lying like a thick eiderdown on the water. This cloud was not filmy, like mist or fog. It wasn’t transparent. It was rock solid puffy white, and it rose at least 1000 feet over the lake, stretching north-south along fourteen miles of the narrow trench carved many years ago by a glaciers. I’ve never seen anything like it before, and fear I’ll never see it again.

The memory is sharp, but I really wish I could show it to you.

The next two scenes that haunt me happened in winter. The frustrating part was that I had the camera with me both times, but just couldn’t stop because it wasn’t safe to pull over on the snowy roads.

The first was a scene I pass every day on the way to work. Normally, I admire the textures and contrasts of this spot with an almost casual, see-it-every-day insouciance. I do take pleasure in the old barns, dilapidated farmhouse, antique cars in the open sided shelter, and the young Thoroughbred who paces in a small paddock. And each time I pass the old milk shed, I admire the faded white paint and the attractive timeworn look it has from years of exposure to sun and wind. My fingers itch for the camera here most mornings, but it’s private property, 6:30 in the morning, and its positioned near a country intersection, which makes it a bit awkward to stop and snap pictures of this venerable old building.

This particular morning, however, snow blasted sideways across the road in such ferocity and beauty, it quickened my heartbeat. It was a fierce burst of white, constant and rippling, blinding whoever crossed its path. The contrast electrified me. Deep turquoise metal-sided barn, cement block barn nearby, white post and board fence swaying in the storm…they were simultaneously shadowed and revealed by the spraying snow.

But I didn’t stop. I worried about arriving late to work, and the sides of the road looked very slippery. So… another lost shot.

Later that week, they closed the whole county for whiteouts. I had to get home, I was determined to get home, and I sure as heck didn’t want to spend the night in my office. So, I spent an hour and a half dodging blinding whiteouts, and finally made my perilous way down Groveland Road, almost home. Another half mile, and I’d be safe in the driveway.

And then I saw them.

Snow devils. Cyclones of white. Billowing and flowing over the hills to the west, up the sides of the valley, rolling across the fields like massive sheet-white tornadoes.

My jaw dropped. My insides thrilled. And I gripped the steering wheel tighter to stay in the snowy lane. I didn’t get the shot. Once again.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not really complaining. I’ve captured dozens of deeply satisfying photos and have been blessed with pastoral scenes of breath-taking beauty year-round. I’ve snapped hundreds and hundreds of photos. But those lost shots… they keep haunting me. Which, I guess, is why I’ve written about them today. When visions haunt me, they spill out of my fingertips.

There is one consolation. The images still reside in my brain. And someday, maybe soon, I’ll download them and be able to show you. ;o)

***

Books by multi-award winning author, Aaron Lazar:

LEGARDE MYSTERIES

DOUBLE FORTÉ (print, eBook, audio book)

UPSTAGED (print, eBook, audio book)  

TREMOLO: CRY OF THE LOON (print, eBook, audio book)

MAZURKA (print, eBook, audio book)

FIRESONG (print, eBook, audio book)

DON’T LET THE WIND CATCH YOU (print, eBook, audio book)

THE LIARS’ GALLERY (print, eBook, audio book)

SPIRIT ME AWAY (print, eBook, audio book)

UNDER THE ICE (print, eBook)

LADY BLUES (print, eBook, and audio book) 

MOORE MYSTERIES

HEALEY'S CAVE (print, eBook, audio book)

TERROR COMES KNOCKING (print, eBook, audio book)

FOR KEEPS (print, eBook, audio book)

TALL PINES MYSTERIES

FOR THE BIRDS (print, eBook, audio book)

ESSENTIALLY YOURS (print, eBook, audio book)

SANCTUARY (print, eBook, audio book)

BETRAYAL (print, eBook, audio book)

LOVE STORIES

THE SEACREST (print, eBook, and audio book)

THE SEACROFT (coming soon)

ROMANTIC THRILLERS

DEVIL’S LAKE (print, eBook, and audio book)

DEVIL’S CREEK (coming soon)

WRITING ADVICE: 

WRITE LIKE THE WIND, volumes 1, 2, 3  (audio books)

Aaron Paul Lazar writes to soothe his soul. An award-winning, bestselling Kindle author of three addictive mystery series, thrillers, love stories, and writing guides, 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 releases, THE SEACROFT: a love story and DEVIL’S CREEK.

Read an eBook week - FREE OFFERINGS!

Hello, folks.

Once a year, Twilight Times Books offers a lovely selection of their titles for free. And it all starts today! From March 1-7th you can get the following titles for free. 

Twilight Times Books FREE OFFERINGS

Two of my books are offered here - both favorites of mine since they are set in the sixties and are told from my protagonist's eleven-year-old mind.

Tremolo: cry of the loon  (free all week, click above link)

When eleven-year-old Gus LeGarde sees a girl fleeing an attacker in the dark Maine woods, he and his friends spend the rest of the summer hunting for her on horseback and in their rowboat, only to face the wrath of the nastiest villain ever to haunt the Belgrade Lakes.

• 2013 Eric Hoffer Book Awards: Grand Prize Short List
• 2013 Eric Hoffer Book Awards: Honorable Mention, Eric Hoffer Legacy Fiction
• 2011 Global eBook Award Finalist in Historical Fiction Contemporary
• 2011 Preditors & Editors Readers Choice Award – 2nd place Mystery
• 2008 Yolanda Renée's Top Ten Books
• 2008 MYSHELF Top Ten Reads

Don't Let the Wind Catch You (free March 3rd, click above link)

Don't Let the Wind Catch You is the sequel to Tremolo and takes place in summer 1965.

When twelve-year-old Gus LeGarde and his two best friends, Elsbeth and Siegfried, stumble on a hermit’s cabin in the woods in the summer of 1965, they’re unprepared for Tully, the crotchety old man who sticks his head out the window and threatens to shoot them. But more surprising is Tully’s best friend, a young Indian girl spirit, Penaki, who reveals herself to the children by forming patterns with butterflies, rattling tin cups, drawing on dusty mirrors, and flipping book pages.

Tully’s past is shrouded in mystery, and Gus can’t understand why his mother hates Tully so. Gus is drawn into an intriguing mystery that reveals long-hidden truths about his grandfather, with even deeper ties to the Ambuscade and the history of the Genesee Valley region. Will Gus’s findings rewrite the most brutal chapter in the history of Livingston County?

All week

Book Reviewers Talk about their Craft by Mayra Calvani, Editor
How I Wrote My First Book: the story behind the story by Anne K. Edwards and Lida E. Quillen, Editors
Practical Tips for Online Authors by Lida E. Quillen
Touch of Fate by Christine Amsden
Tremolo: cry of the loon by Aaron Paul Lazar
Who is Margaret? by Celia A. Leaman

Sunday, Mar. 1st -- An Elfy on the Loose by Barb Caffrey
Sunday, Mar. 1st -- Behold the Eyes of Light by Geoff Geauterre. Book I in the Eyes of Light series.
Monday, Mar. 2nd -- Cassie Scot: ParaNormal Detective by Christine Amsden. Book I in the Cassie Scot series.
Monday, Mar. 2nd -- Death on Delivery by Anne K. Edwards.
Tuesday, Mar. 3rd -- Deeds of a Colored Soldier During the Rebellion by F. W. Abel.
Tuesday, Mar. 3rd -- Don't Let the Wind Catch You by Aaron Paul Lazar.
Wednesday, Mar. 4th -- Jerome and the Seraph by Robina Williams. Book I in the Gaea series.
Wednesday, Mar. 4th -- Laughing All the Way by Darrell Bain.
Thursday, Mar. 5th -- Monkey Trap by Lee Denning. Book I in the Nova Sapiens series.
Thursday, Mar. 5th -- No place for Gods by Gerald Mills. Book I in the James Foster Adventures series.
Friday, Mar. 6th -- Rue the Day by Ralph Freedman.
Friday, Mar. 6th -- Schooled in Magic by Christopher G. Nuttall. Book I in the Schooled in Magic series.
Saturday, Mar. 7th -- The Case of the Displaced Detective: The Arrival by Stephanie Osborn. Book I in the Displaced Detective series.
Saturday, Mar. 7th -- The Storks of La Caridad by Florence Byham Weinberg.
Saturday, Mar. 7th -- Futures Mystery Anthology Magazine Issue Sept/Oct 2005
Saturday, Mar. 7th -- Futures Mystery Anthology Magazine Issue Jan/Feb 2006
Be sure to check out the official web site for Read an E-Book Week. A number of publishers are offering give-aways during the week. For example, Smashwords is offering hundreds of free ebooks.
http://www.ebookweek.com/


Click here to access free offerings:

Twilight Times Books FREE OFFERINGS

Happy reading!

Aaron Lazar
www.lazarbooks.com

UNDER THE ICE - now available!

Today the print and eBook versions of Under the Ice (LeGarde Mystery #9) are available on Amazon.com.

AMAZON LINK

LeGarde Mysteries can be read in any order, as standalones or part of the series. ;o)


What do you do when your past comes back to kill you?

After escaping her abusive husband, life is finally good for Camille LeGarde and her daughter, Shelby. She has a great relationship with her new husband, Gus, who also loves Shelby like his own child. But the LeGarde family’s fragile oasis is shattered when the man of Camille’s nightmares is released from prison.

Greg Robinson never wanted to be a father. But he’s playing the biological card for all it’s worth to get close to Shelby, so he can realize his true goal—revenge against Gus LeGarde, the man who “stole” his wife and daughter.

Lured by the promise of connecting with her real dad, Shelby vanishes, sending Gus and Camille on a desperate race through the worst ice storm of the century to find her before Robinson can act on his chilling threat…

If I can’t have them, neither can you.

-->

Chapter 1

Camille threw back the comforter and peered at the alarm clock. “Isn’t she home yet?” My wife had been dozing off and on for the past few hours, and her words were slurred from sleep.

Lying beside her, wide-awake, I answered in a tight, angry voice. “No, she’s not.”

She flopped back on her pillow with a loud sigh. “Geez, Gus. It’s almost twelve-thirty.”

I’d been worrying about my teenage daughter for two hours now, imagining the worst possible scenarios. An accident. Rape. Kidnapping. Dead in a ditch.

Curfew was ten-thirty, and Shelby was way past late. This wasn’t the first time she’d been in trouble over the past few months. She’d been pushing her limits since she got her license.

The full moon shone on the floorboards and rays of light bounced off the walls. Max—our half Dachshund/half Husky mutt—snuffled in his sleep, stretched his legs, and thumped his tail against the bedspread. Boris, our longhaired mini-dachshund, snored contentedly; his hot-water-bottle-body warmed my feet.

“Should we call her?” Camille mumbled.

“I’ve left four messages already. But I can’t sleep until I know she’s safe.” I reached over to the nightstand to grab my phone. I scrolled down to Shelby’s name and tapped it. It rang. And rang. And rang.

“Hi! This is Shelby. I’m busy now, but I’ll call ya back. You know the drill.”

I grumbled into the phone. “Shelby. It’s Dad. You’re over two hours late and we’re worried. Call me.” Scowling, I thumbed it off. “She’s killing me, Camille. I don’t think I can take much more.”

“Huh?” Camille mumbled. She’d almost fallen asleep again. She flopped an arm over my chest and said, “Didden she pick up?”

I wiggled my legs in a futile attempt to get comfortable. “No. She’s not answering.”

Camille finally sat up, yawning. “Wait. Are you sure she’s not already home? Maybe she sneaked in while you were sleeping.”

I hadn’t been sleeping, but I heaved another sigh, threw back the covers, and stomped to the window. My bare feet froze on the wooden floorboards. I peered out into the dark night through elegant, frosty designs on the cold glass. The familiar shape of Camille’s VW Beetle was conspicuously absent from the snow-covered parking area stretching between the house and the barn.

“The bug’s still gone.” I let out an exasperated sigh. “Where the hell is she?”

“Try Alicia’s cell. They went to the movies together.”

“Okay. But if she doesn’t pick up, I’m going out to look for her.”

I got back in bed, reached for my cell again, and found Shelby’s best friend’s number. We’d entered dozens of her friends’ numbers since Shelby got her license several months ago.

“Hello?” Alicia sounded groggy.

“Hi, Alicia. It’s Mr. LeGarde. I’m looking for Shelby.”

She hesitated one second too long. “Uh... she’s not here, Mr. L.”

“When did she drop you off?”

 The bedsprings squeaked in the background, and I imagined the girl rubbing sleep from her eyes and sitting up in bed. There was another pause.

“Er…I’m sorry, but our plans changed at the last minute. Work needed me to stay late, so I didn’t get out ‘til after the movie started. I’m not sure where she went.”

Anger and fear vibrated in my chest. I wasn’t sure which was the stronger emotion. “Alicia,” I said with forced calm. “Do you have any idea where she might be? We’re really worried.”

“I guess she might have gone to the Meyers’ party.”

“Stan and Lucy Meyers?” I said.

“Yeah. Steve threw a big party tonight. His parents are—”

I interrupted. “Out of town?”

She was silent.

“Alicia?”

“Yeah. I think they’re in Florida or someplace like that. I’m sorry, Mr. L. But I’m sure she’s fine. She probably just lost track of time.”

I thanked her and hung up. I’d already pulled on my jeans and a shirt when tires crunched against snow in the driveway. 

Chapter 2

I stomped downstairs and waited in the doorway between the kitchen and the great room, arms crossed and brow furrowed.

Shelby breezed into the kitchen, pulled open the refrigerator, and grabbed a carton of orange juice. “Hi, Dad.”

“‘Hi, Dad?” I mimicked, frowning. “Are you kidding me?” I stormed into the kitchen after her. “Where were you? You’re two hours late.”

She avoided my eyes and poured a glass of juice. “Uh. At the movies. Remember? With Alicia.”

“Seriously? You’re going to lie about this?”

She turned an innocent face to me. “What? Why—”

I took a step toward her. “I just talked to Alicia.”

Her expression tightened. “What’d she say?”

“She spilled the beans, Shelby. You’re in big trouble.”

“Why?” she said, too casually.

“A party, Shelby? For crying out loud. When the parents aren’t home?”

“Nothing happened.” Shelby casually leaned against the refrigerator. She took another slug of juice and rolled her eyes. “Curfews are dumb. It’s Friday night. I don’t have school tomorrow.”

I wanted to give her my standard lecture about privileges and rules and loss of freedom if the rules were broken. But this was the second time in a month she’d flagrantly ignored her curfew, and worse, she seemed unconcerned about the consequences.

“The rules don’t change for the weekend, you know that. Your mother and I were worried sick.”

“I don’t know why.” She flounced to the cupboard and reached for a pack of Oreos.

“You’re grounded.”

Her eyes flashed in anger, and her lips compressed. She tore open the package of cookies and ate one.

“This time it’s not just for one day, it’s for a whole week. No car, no phone, no computer, no television, no anything,” I said, just getting warmed up.

“You can’t do that!”

“I’m not done,” I said. “The grounding is for breaking curfew. I haven’t punished you for lying to me yet. That translates to a weekend of chores.”

“What?” She spat the word at me.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know how else to get through to you. You’re using your mother’s car every night. Your attitude is disrespectful. You’re hanging out with kids we don’t even know, who are probably drinking alcohol. God knows what went on at that party tonight. You promised to stick to a schedule, to be home by ten-thirty every night.”

She rolled her eyes again and took two steps toward me. “You can’t tell me what to do. You’re not my real father.”

She’d stuck me with a proverbial knife and twisted it in my heart. I felt it, as authentic as steel, and staggered from the blow.

Camille padded down the stairs. “Shelby! What’s wrong with you? Gus is the only father you have now. He adopted you, for God’s sake. He’s my husband, and I won’t have you talk to him like that.”

“But, Mom! He said I can’t—”

“Whatever Gus said, goes.” She paused for a moment and her voice hardened. “Unless you’d rather go live with your ‘real’ father, in prison?”

Another low blow.

Shelby fumed. I walked past her to pick up the glass and put it in the sink. The scent of smoke wafted from her hair. It wasn’t cigarettes. Suddenly, I was transported back to Woodstock. The sickeningly sweet stench of marijuana rose from my sixteen-year-old daughter.

“You smoked pot?” I yelled.

Camille leaned over and sniffed Shelby’s hair. Her eyes widened. “My God, is this how you answer our trust? Is this how it’s going to be?”

Shelby looked wounded. “I can’t believe you’d think I would— Arggghhh! You never trust me. Neither one of you.” She screamed and ran up the stairs. Seconds later, a baby began to wail.

The sounds of my twin granddaughters’ cries were distinctively different, and I recognized Celeste immediately. I bounded toward the stairs.

Camille turned off the kitchen light, followed me upstairs, and continued down the hall to our room. Shelby’s door slammed at the far end of the house. I snorted in frustration and then peeked into Freddie’s bedroom. My daughter lay sound asleep on her queen-sized bed. Her wispy gold hair covered her face. The poor thing had worked extra long hours this week at her veterinary clinic and was exhausted. I pulled her door closed and hurried to the twins’ bedroom.

Celeste sat up in her crib, her copper-colored hair curled in tight ringlets and her peaches and cream cheeks damp with tears. “Opa. Binky.” She pointed to the blue pacifier she’d thrown on the floor.

It landed nub up, so I grabbed it and handed it back to her.

She tossed it aside and lifted both arms to me. “Uppy.”

I picked her up. She snuggled into my neck, collapsing against me. I grabbed the pacifier, one more time. This time, she accepted it. I settled in the rocking chair with her, rubbing her back. The wooden slats creaked as we rocked on the hardwood floor. Back and forth. Back and forth. I hummed “Rock-a-bye Baby,” feeling her warm breath on my neck.

Marion, Celeste’s dark-haired twin, slept quietly in her crib, sucking on her pacifier as it moved in and out of her rosebud mouth. Her cherubic face was lit by the glow of the tiny night-light.

Ten minutes later, Celeste’s breathing slowed and she relaxed in my arms. I kissed her soft cheeks and lowered her into the crib. She squirmed, lifted her head for a moment, and flopped back on the mattress. I held my breath and said a little prayer, then crept backwards out of the room.

If only they didn’t have to grow up.

I wearily shuffled down the hall and leaned into my grandson Johnny’s room. I watched his chest rise and fall several times. He lay on his back, with both arms and legs spread-eagled. A soft snore escaped him. The purple balloons from his birthday party last Thursday bobbed on the bedpost. They’d lost air and were wrinkled. I couldn’t believe he was already five.

        When I finally crawled into bed beside Camille, I collapsed onto my pillow. After a few minutes of tossing and turning, I finally drifted off to sleep, fretting about the teenage condition and worrying about what lay in store for us tomorrow.

 

Reworking Older Titles (The Lord Keeps Me Humble!)

Hello, friends!

I hope you've had a successful start to 2015. Did you make any resolutions?

I'm ashamed to say I didn't. I'm just plugging away at the jobs I've had on my plate for a while. Now that I've come up for air, I'm shocked that the end of January is in sight. How did that happen?

I’ve just finished putting the finishing touches on Under the Ice, my last Gus LeGarde Mystery. This makes ten in the series, and although I “never say never,” and may well write some more with these characters in the future, I’m breathing a sigh of relief, because some of these books have been waiting to see the light of day since 2006.

Because my head is so full of characters and stories begging to be released, for some reason I write too fast for a traditional publisher to keep pace with me. Especially since they aren’t uniquely devoted to just me. Heck, it wouldn’t be fair for all the other writers in the company to sit around and wait while my publisher focused on me, would it? So, I had a selection of older LeGarde books I’d written years ago, just languishing in the publishing queue.

When I decided to go ahead and put them out myself, I worked hard at it for a year and a half. In addition to a few new titles I managed to write (Devil’s Lake and The Seacrest) and two new books in my Tall Pines series (Sanctuary and Betrayal), I managed to polish up and release Lady Blues, Spirit Me Away, The Liar’s Gallery, and now, coming in a week or so, Under the Ice.

This last book, Under the Ice, was the toughest to edit and make presentable to the world. I’d written it in 2006, and just because of crazy timing issues, I hadn’t touched it since.

I thought it stunk.

Really. When I read it over during the course of three months, chapter by excruciating chapter, I was bored to tears. Maybe it’s because I’ve been writing thrillers and love stories since then. Maybe it’s because I was fitting this “do” job in between writing new, fresh stuff. But I was convinced it might be the worst of my series, and it honestly did need some very tedious editing.

Another issue that happened during this rewrite is that my Microsoft Word program stopped highlighting the misspellings and grammar mistakes. I tried one day to fix it, but couldn’t easily pinpoint the problem. That made for a lot of potential mistakes. Since then I’ve researched it and got it all back in working order. For the record, it was hardly an intuitive fix.

When I sent the book out to my first line of defense, two editors who work for me from the beginning to help me save face when I release the book to its next phase, the Beta Reader Phase, they found quite a few errors. I fixed them, and tried not to make even more mistakes in the “fixing,” (which does happen, as I’m sure you have all seen), and then shipped off the manuscript to about seventeen wonderful volunteers who have various amazing skills they are willing to share with me for the simple reward of “reading the story before it’s released” and also getting their personally inscribed print copy as a thank you. I love these folks, as you might imagine.

I’ve never had so many typos, extra words, missing words, case issues, and inconsistencies as they found in this book. Wow. I’m telling you, the Lord really kept me humble with this one. I think we must’ve had over 200 corrections, and I thank God for my Beta team, because mostly every single reader found a different selection of mistakes than the others! Some readers are best at catching action inconsistencies. Some are wizards with commas. Others have the knack of spotting that extra “to” or missing “a” in my prose. If it weren’t for all of them, however, I’d be flame-faced embarrassed when the book was released.

Because my own brain “reads” what it THOUGHT I “wrote,” I can’t find these errors. My brain thinks it’s so smart, integrating and upgrading the words before I interpret them. But dang it, I hate it. I wish I could spot my own mistakes.

Well, after all is said and done, my readers came back to me with comments like, “This is your best work yet,” “It flowed so well,” “I think it’s my favorite,” etc.

It just goes to show you. A story I hated editing “piecemeal” was actually well received when read as a whole entity.

Once this upcoming release of Under the Ice is done on January 30^th, 2015, I am finally going to be free to write fresh, new books in any order I feel like. What a luxury! To tell the truth, I’ve already plotted and started writing a sequel to The Seacrest: a love story, and am halfway done with a sequel to Devil’s Lake, called Devil’s Creek.

After that, who knows? I just know I’ll be having a blast with whatever stories beg to be released next.

Following is a complete list for anyone who’d like to take a look at my stable of books, most of which are in eBook, print, and audio versions.

Happy writing!

Aaron

LEGARDE MYSTERIES

DOUBLE FORTÉ (print, eBook, audio book)

UPSTAGED (print, eBook, audio book)  

TREMOLO: CRY OF THE LOON (print, eBook, audio book)

MAZURKA (print, eBook, audio book)

FIRESONG (print, eBook, audio book)

DON’T LET THE WIND CATCH YOU (print, eBook, audio book)

THE LIARS’ GALLERY (print, eBook, audio book)

SPIRIT ME AWAY (print, eBook, audio book)

UNDER THE ICE: COUNTERPOINT (coming soon 2015)

LADY BLUES (print, eBook, audio book)

MOORE MYSTERIES

HEALEY'S CAVE (print, eBook, audio book)

TERROR COMES KNOCKING (print, eBook, audio book)

FOR KEEPS (print, eBook, audio book)

TALL PINES MYSTERIES

FOR THE BIRDS (print, eBook, audio book)

ESSENTIALLY YOURS (print, eBook, audio book)

SANCTUARY (print, eBook, audio book)

BETRAYAL (print, eBook, audio book)

STANDALONES

THE SEACREST (print, eBook, and audio book)

DEVIL’S LAKE (print, eBook, and audio book)

DEVIL’S CREEK (coming soon)

WRITING ADVICE: 

WRITE LIKE THE WIND, volumes 1, 2, 3  (audio books)

Aaron Paul Lazar writes to soothe his soul. An award-winning, bestselling Kindle author of three addictive mystery series, thrillers, love stories, and writing guides, 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 releases, UNDER THE ICE (2015) and DEVIL’S CREEK (2015). Aaron has won over 18 book awards for his novels and finds writing to be his form of "cheap therapy." Feel free to connect with him on Facebook or his website; he loves to connect with readers!

FREE Kindle eBook - first time ever - SANCTUARY: A TALL PINES MYSTERY

Limited Time Offer

Free Kindle eBook, January 8-10th

For the first time ever, this award-winning mystery is available for free.
Download your copy here:

FREE SANCTUARY DOWNLOAD

Synopsis:

The safest place they know is about to become the most dangerous…

Marcella’s husband, Quinn “Black Eagle” Hollister, severed ties to his family and friends on the Seneca reservation years ago. He rarely mentions his past—until his young cousin Kitty collapses on the couple’s doorstep in the dead of a rainswept night.

After two Seneca men break into their home with intent to kill, the Hollisters flee with the mute and injured girl to Tall Pines, their cabin in the Adirondacks. Marcella, unable to bear a child of her own, unleashes her motherly instincts caring for Kitty. As the girl slowly recovers, they start to piece together who wants them dead, and why.

But their pursuers are canny and relentless. The next attack drives the trio from the sanctuary of Tall Pines, deep into the mountain wilderness.

In spite of their best efforts, the unthinkable happens and Kitty is kidnapped. Marcella and Quinn track her back to Tall Pines--where they find themselves facing an army of murderous Seneca who'll stop at nothing to protect their dark secret.

THE SEACREST: a love story, FREE Kindle Download, Dec. 26-28th.

From Aaron Lazar, a post-Christmas gift to you! Free Kindle eBook from Amazon, Friday through Sunday, 12/26 - 12/28, 2014. Pick up your copy today!

With 100 5 star reviews on Amazon, The Seacrest has also won some nice awards this year:

2014 Best Beach Book Festival WINNER, Romance category 2013 

ForeWord Book Awards, Romance, FINALIST 

***

Hope you enjoy this excerpt from chapter 4.

July 2^nd, 1997

We played with the beach ball for about an hour, laughing and churning up sand three hundred yards up the beach, away from the sunbathers and family picnics. After the first few nervous minutes, the whole thing felt very natural, as if we were just kids and there were no boy-girl elements to be embarrassed about.

But there certainly were boy-girl elements.

I watched her tawny arms as they flailed and whapped the ball and marveled at her long, delicate legs when she ran back and forth along the quiet stretch of sand we’d chosen. Her eyes had a way of widening in mock horror when I tossed it too high and she missed it, quickly followed by a wide smile that dizzied me.

She had a nice figure, with slim legs, a narrow waist, and pretty shoulders. Her one-piece black suit covered areas I tried not to stare at, but couldn’t help wanting to. I wondered how it would feel to touch her. Probably softer than silk. Her hair cascaded along her back, bouncing dark against her summer brown skin.

We collapsed on the sand with the ball between us, breathing hard and laughing.

“You’re pretty good at this,” she said.

I leaned back on my arms and chuckled. “So are you. For a girl.”

She sat up and hit my arm. “What? For a girl?”

Afraid she’d storm off, I took her hand and pulled her close to me. “I’m just kidding! Really, you’re good, even for a guy.”

She smiled that lazy, sweet grin again and I felt my heart melt.

“Okay. That’s better.”

“I haven’t seen you at my school. Are you from around here?” I asked.

“I just came back for the summer.”

“Back from where?” I said. “Reform school?”

She hit me again and I knew I deserved it.

“Just for that, I’m not telling you. You’re horrible!” Her smile belied her words.

I grinned back at her. “So, what’s your name?”

“Guess.”

“What?”

“Guess.”

“Okay.” I sat up, furrowed my brow, and placed fingertips against my temples, staring at her. “I’m getting something. It’s coming.”

She laughed and poked my chest. “Oh, really? What do you see?”

I gave it a shot. “Jennifer?”

She snorted. “No!”

I tried again. “Sarah?”

She giggled. “Heck, no.”

I tried to think of the most popular names of our generation, hoping it was one of them. “Allison?”

“Uhnt-uh.” She shook her head.

“Give me a hint.”

“No.”

“Oh, come on!” I frowned. “How can I guess?”

“You have to.”

“Okay. Hannah? Jessica? Carly? Jenna? Lisa?”

“No, no, no, no, and no.”

“Hey. How ‘bout if I tell you my name?”

“What is it?”

I hesitated. “It’s a weird one.”

“Tell me.”

“Okay. It’s Finn.”

She tilted her head. “That’s not weird. I like it. Finn.” She seemed to taste the letters on her tongue, enjoying the feel of it. “It’s different. But nice.”

“Okay. Your turn.” I sat forward expectantly.

“Nope. I’m not telling. You have to keep guessing.”

I ran through all the names I could imagine, and didn’t hit on it. Frustrated now, I flopped back on the sand. “Okay. Then I’m gonna make up a name for you.”

She made a face. “Really?” Quickly, she leaned over me, her face blocking the sun.

In a sudden rush of feeling, I wanted to pull her to me, to smother her in kisses, to taste the salt on her skin.

“Okay, what’s it gonna be? What’s my new name?”

“Let me think.”

Her hair danced over my bare chest. I caught it and played with it. “You are sweet. I could call you Honey.”

“Boring,” she said.

“How about Candy?”

“Sexist,” she pouted.

“Bambi?”

“Even worse! I’m not a playboy bunny!”

“Okay, Well, you look delicious. How about Cupcake?”

She hissed. “That sounds like a chubby girl. Or a pony.”

“Okay, okay. Let me think. Maybe I need some inspiration. How about a kiss?”

At first I thought she’d reel back and hit me. But to my surprise, she lowered her lips to mine, stopping just an inch apart. “Okay. Just a little one, though.”

I reached my arms up to her neck and pulled her toward me. At the last minute, just as I felt the soft sweetness of her mouth brushing mine, she pulled back.

“Nope. Too soon.” She got up and laughed, twirling around with the ball. “Come on. What’s my nickname?”

I sat up, trying to control the heat surging beneath my bathing suit. “Okay. I’ve got it.”

“What? What is it?”

“Sassy.”

She pranced toward me. “I love that! Okay. From now on, I’m Sassy to you.”

Her father appeared out of nowhere, his face a study in disapproval. I think he hated me from the moment I’d asked her to toss the ball around. I also figured he’d probably seen us lying near each other, and got nervous.

He glared at me. “Time for lunch. Let’s go.”

There was no arguing with his stern tone. She tossed him the ball and wiggled her fingers at me. “See ya ‘round, Finn.”

I grinned like an idiot. God, she was cute. “Okay, Sassy. See ya.”

I watched her link arms with her father and sashay away from me. The sun winked on the brilliant sand, almost blinding me. As if hypnotized, I stared with slack jaw until I could barely make out her figure among the crowded, colorful throng of beach-lovers.

Sassy.

Oh, Sassy. You’re the one for me.

*** 

 

Books by multi-award winning author, Aaron Lazar: 

LEGARDE MYSTERIES

DOUBLE FORTÉ
UPSTAGED
TREMOLO: CRY OF THE LOON
MAZURKA
FIRESONG
DON’T LET THE WIND CATCH YOU
THE LIARS’ GALLERY
SPIRIT ME AWAY
UNDER THE ICE (coming soon)
LADY BLUES

MOORE MYSTERIES
HEALEY'S CAVE
TERROR COMES KNOCKING
FOR KEEPS

TALL PINES MYSTERIES
FOR THE BIRDS
ESSENTIALLY YOURS
SANCTUARY
BETRAYAL

STANDALONES
THE SEACREST
DEVIL’S LAKE
DEVIL’S CREEK (coming soon)

WRITING ADVICE
WRITE LIKE THE WIND, volumes 1, 2, 3

Aaron Paul Lazar writes to soothe his soul. An award-winning, bestselling Kindle 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 releases, UNDER THE ICE(2015) and DEVIL’S CREEK(2015). Contact him at aaron dot lazar at yahoo dot com.

HOLIDAY DEALS and FREEBIES!

Happy Holidays!

Hi, folks! I know the Christmas season is a busy one, so I'll keep this short. I have several new offerings and a few deals I wanted to share today. See below and let me know if you need something for Christmas so I can get it to you on time!

Blessings,

Aaron

DEAL #1: For the next few days, the Kindle version of Betrayal is on sale for 99 cents. This is book 4 in Tall Pines Mysteries, but it can be read as a standalone.

DEALl #2: The audiobook was released yesterday! I have FREE coupons which I'll give to the first three readers who want to LISTEN to this story via Audible.com. Our narrator, Gwendolyn Druyor, is Hollywood perfect! She will astound you with her talent.

 DEAL #3: This popular love story will be FREE (Kindle) from December 26th-28th. Be sure to get your copy if you haven't read it yet. And be sure you are over 18, for this is for adults only.









Yesterday I received print copies of my new book, Sanctuary: A Tall Pines Mystery. The book including shipping is $18.00 (signed to whomever you wish). The audio version is also available now, so you can listen while you drive, work, or play. ;o)

DEAL #4: If you buy Sanctuary (print book) from me, I'll take 50% off any of these print books: 
For the Birds
Mazurka
Healey's Cave


See all Aaron's books at http://www.lazarbooks.com