The Longshot: Golden Isles Series #2

By Lauren Clark

The Longshot is a feel-good beach read about finding unexpected love in the Golden Isles.

Becca Campbell shines as a public relations associate for St. Simons Island's most popular advertising agency. But when her newest client, a devastatingly handsome NFL player, doesn't play by the rules, it's all Becca can do to keep him in line--while ignoring the chemistry growing between them.

Zach Taylor is looking to escape the trouble he's caused since the Jacksonville Jaguars' devastating loss in the season's final game. To make matters worse, his bad boy reputation isn't winning any points with the NFL team's new owner, who's looking to change up the roster. And Zach isn't catching any breaks from his buttoned-up and beautiful new PR agent, Becca.

Can Becca's Hail Mary plan save Zach's NFL career and help them both find true love? Find out in this new romance novella from author Lauren Clark!

Note: All the books in the Golden Isles series are standalone, happily-ever-after romances and can be read independently. Readers can visit Lauren at www.authorlaurenclark.com.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lauren Clark
• Release date: Sep 2, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463723760

Lauren Clark

Lauren Clark has been a voracious reader since the age of four and would rather be stranded at the library than on a desert island. In her former life, she worked as an anchor and producer for CBS affiliates in Upstate New York and Alabama. Lauren adores her family, yoga, and flavored coffee. She lives in Birmingham, AL. Visit her at authorlaurenclark.com.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Becca

Whoops of laughter bounced off the high, elegant ballroom ceiling. Catcalls pinged against the pale gray walls. Heavy glass mugs slammed against the slim cafe tables, beating out a war drum rhythm.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Becca Campbell stopped mid-sentence. She stood on tip-toes, peering across the massive hotel ballroom. Becca squinted, attempting to see around massive floral arrangements and bouquets of bright balloons.

Nothing. Becca could see nothing.

Excuse me for a moment? Heart racing, Becca forced a polite smile at the Brunswick mayor and city council members. Tamping down worry, she pointed herself in the direction of the chaos. Walking quickly, without breaking into a full-on sprint, Becca pressed a hand to her chest and counted backward silently from ten.

Breathe, Becca. Breathe.

Her head spun. She hadn’t slept in weeks. Planning the hospital’s fundraiser had consumed every waking moment for the last six months. She’d organized the event in a color-coded Excel spreadsheet, down to the last giveaway and dessert tray.

Despite her now-throbbing nerves, Becca assumed a pleasant expression, nodding to guests as she navigated around tuxedo-attired servers balancing trays piled high with canapés. She flashed a wide smile at the blur of women dressed in Gucci and Yves St. Laurent. She hurried past the silent auction tables, piled high with gift bags, ribbon-tied boxes, and crisp linen certificates penned in looping calligraphy.

Becca would—and could—calmly find the noisy culprits, have them removed, and return the party to a refined, respectable occasion. The advertising agency’s reputation, her pride, and Becca’s weekly paycheck depended on it.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The pounding didn’t stop. The sound, louder now, reverberated through the floor, sending pulses of worry up Becca’s spine. Inside her body, warning sirens blared; lights flashed neon inside her brain.

Warning. Warning. Abort. Abort.

New peals of laughter erupted, laced with the high-pitched giggles. Cell phone keyboards clicked, sending messages zinging through social media.

Then, the chanting began.

Do it, do it, do it.

Wedging her way between full-length gowns and expensive suit jackets, Becca squeezed through the tight circle of guests. As she broke free, untangling from purse straps and sharp elbows, Becca stumbled forward, landing hard on her hands and knees.

Oh, Becca gasped, heat flushing her face.

No. No. No.

Zack Taylor, Heisman trophy winner and Jacksonville Jaguars’ running back, lay sprawled on the ballroom floor. Dozens of crumpled dollar bills and two empty tequila bottles littered the floor; a pyramid of frosted carnation pink cupcakes, twelve layers high, sat stacked on Taylor’s chest.

And that wasn’t the worst of it.

The NFL player was completely naked, save for a pair of black dress socks.

Becca sucked in a breath and averted her eyes. She turned to the nearby table, grabbing at a linen tablecloth. She yanked hard, pulling the fabric free, sending silverware flying against the flocked wallpaper.

Clutching the material to her chest, Becca rushed to the athlete, trying desperately to stay calm. She exhaled, knelt, and breathed a sigh of relief at the slight rise and fall of the pink pastry tower, wobbling unsteadily across the man’s chiseled torso.

No dead body. Check.

Cupcakes first.

Becca inhaled and pushed with both hands, sending the majority of frosted confections flying. She unfurled the tablecloth like a flag, allowing it to settle across the man’s body. Becca heaved a sigh, sat back on her heels, and ran a hand across her forehead.

Could someone call 9-1-1? Becca called out, raising her voice above the laughter and chatter. He’s not moving. I think we need an ambulance.

As several guests pulled out phones, Becca scanned the room. Where were the man’s clothes? Then, Becca thought to look up.

A bow tie, pants, and a tuxedo jacket dangled from the chandelier overhead. Polished black shoes hung from their laces.

Zach Taylor’s once-pressed white shirt, harder to spot, was pinned to the wall over the dessert bar. The fine fabric now bore a bullseye, drawn in lipstick. Becca covered her lips. From the tell-tale smears of pink frosting, at least a few guests had decided to use the shirt for target practice.

Rolling her eyes in dismay, Becca turned back to Zach. She inhaled sharply. Despite being drunk, the NFL player was gorgeous, with a chiseled jaw and sun-kissed skin. His dark, thick hair, usually neatly in place, stood on end.

Becca pressed her fingertips to both temples, starting to rub in small circles. What was he doing here? At the party she’d painstakingly put together.

As she lost herself in thought, a deep moan escaped from the player.

Becca squealed and jumped, waking Zach with a start. In one swift motion, he jerked his body up, balancing on one elbow. Zach swiveled his head toward Becca.

Well, who do we have here? His slurred voice hinted at amusement. His hazel eyes, flecked with gold, twinkled mischievously.

Becca’s lips parted. She couldn’t move or speak. Becca realized she wasn’t breathing.

What was happening to her?

After a beat, the NFL player stuck out a large hand for Becca to shake. I’m Zach Taylor, he finally said. Nice to meet you.

Becca tamped down the flutter in her chest, exhaling in a rush. She slipped her hand into his. Zach’s palm and fingers enveloped hers, enclosing them in a sweaty, but firm grip.

Mustering decorum and looking directly away from the man's exposed body, Becca replied shakily. Becca. Becca Campbell.

Still gripping her hand, Zach flashed his celebrity smile. Becca, he echoed his voice a low murmur.

And then Zach Taylor collapsed back onto the carpet, still wearing that signature, heart-melting grin. It was magnetic—his wide smile before big games and after a hard-fought win.

Becca could understand now why Zach Taylor caused fans and reporters alike to get tongue-tied. Experienced interviewers tended to stutter. Football fans, especially women, fluttered and flapped around Zach like chickens in a barnyard.

It was all ridiculous.

And Becca wasn’t a fangirl.

Or a groupie.

But even now, lying on a ballroom floor, wearing little more than a tablecloth, it was hard to look away from Zach Taylor.

He was, indisputably, a ridiculously talented athlete. The classic, brooding Alpha male, ripped from the page of GQ and Men’s Health magazine. His Instagram account featured him skydiving over Alaska, bungee jumping in Costa Rica, and scuba diving with sharks in Australia’s Great Barrier Reef.

Becca shuddered.

Sharks. Skydiving. Falling, on purpose, from great heights.

No. Thank you.

Yet, here she was, still holding tight to Zach Taylor’s hand.

In the distance, sirens wailed.

All at once, gawking party guests turned to sample appetizers and refill wine glasses. Others, tapping madly into their phones, drifting away.

Becca frowned and started to wriggle her fingers. Setting her jaw, she pulled her arm back slightly.

It was no use. Zach only gripped tighter.

Sighing, Becca allowed her shoulders to slump. She could wait. Becca studied Zach, wavering between frustration and slight fascination.

She'd believed it all her life. Now she knew it was true. People like Zach Taylor didn’t live in the real world.

The rules didn’t apply. The consequences were light.

As long as celebrities got what they wanted, it didn’t matter who they hurt.

Zach Taylor was no different.

Chapter 2

Zach

Adelicious breeze cooled Zach Taylor’s warm skin. He stretched out on the chaise lounge, gazing out at the sparkling blue infinity pool. Bright pink hibiscus blooms and spiky green sego palms dotted the edges of the patio, but the crowning glory sat in the center of the massive courtyard.

A giant waterfall spilled over an enormous rock formation, cascading and splashing into the water below. Somehow, the tiny bubbles and happy gurgles soothed his soul, especially on nights underneath a clear, star-filled night sky.

The beach house was Zach’s reward to himself after finishing a grueling third season with the Jacksonville Jaguars. They'd been a winning team until the final game of the season.

A surprise appearance in the stands had shaken Zach that day. He hadn't been aware of the person until a teammate mentioned it. For a few long moments, Zach's world stopped. He had to walk out on the field and look up into the VIP seating to make sure.

His estranged father.

It was then everything fell apart. Zach couldn't focus. He'd fumbled the ball and completely misread a pass that should have been an easy grab. During halftime, as the coach reprimanded him repeatedly, Zach could only nod.

The game was a bloodbath, so terrible that the Swedish supermodel he'd just began dating broke up with him by text. KatarinaEklund didn't even wait until the clock ticked down to zero to send the message.

In NFL player tradition, Zach compensated for the season's dismal end by spending money. One new black Harley. One new silver Mercedes. And a gorgeous, pure white sailboat. As a joke, he'd christened her The Longshot.

It summed up everything that was Zach's life right now. His agent, Art, was furious. He ignored the twenty-plus phone calls, most of them ranging from irritated to angry. Without telling a soul, Zach simply picked up and moved his life.

Even in a new town, it wasn't easy to fly under the radar. But Jacksonville wasn't St. Simons Island. Here, Zach could enjoy the new faces, the welcome smiles, and the laid back vibe. No one on the island had any expectations of Zach. No one lectured him. If people judged him for the vast NFL loss, it was behind his back, which suited Zach just fine.

Buying a vacation home in a new place meant Zach was better able to put the past behind him and starting over. At least that's what he told himself. With soft Atlantic breezes and the smell of the sea, ultimately, Zach believed he couldn't hang on to his regret so tightly.

With a groan, Zach rubbed his eyes, ran a hand through his hair, and reached for his ball cap. With a sigh, he pulled the hat low on his forehead.

Last night, he might have gone a little overboard in his attempt to remove any memory of that last NFL game. His pounding hangover was evidence. So far, his memories of the party were blurry, though he recalled doing shots with new friends