The Beach Bum Billionaire: Small Town Billionaires, #4

By April Murdock

Jake Turner needs a change of scenery. So he makes sure he gets just that. The Gulf coast of Alabama will be a drastic change from the hustle of the technology hub in California. Surely the white sandy beach will help clear his mind so he can finish the project that will be his billion dollar company's next new thing.

Gillian Payne is haunted by the past. Failures and should-have-dones were all around her. Running the beach bed and breakfast she inherited from her mother is much harder than she'd realized it would be. Crisis after crisis keeps her busy and worried.

With things so crazy every day, it's a wonder she even notices the handsome guest who just checked in. When he asks her out, her mother's voice shouts in her head and with the not so subtle reminder, of course she declines the offer. But she really wants to go.

Could this be her chance to finally have some fun? Was it so wrong to be attracted to a handsome man who hadn't grown up in her small tourist town?

Would Jake be willing and able to break through and convince Gillian he's worth a second look?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sweet River Publishing
• Release date: Feb 22, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393297390

Book preview

Chapter 1

Jake

I sat in the backseat of a hired black town car, my eyes glued to the window as we drove down the parkway that linked Jack Edwards Airport to the beach. I’d decided to take the company jet and end up closer to the beach than go first class to a larger commercial airport.

The drive would only be about thirty minutes, but my legs still felt cramped after the flight from California and I was anxious to get to a place where I could walk around. There was a fair bit of traffic on the road this late spring afternoon and I wasn’t sure why I was surprised by that. This wasn’t a backwoods place that nobody had ever heard of. At least I didn’t think it was. And though it was late spring, the sun was beating down and I could tell it was pretty darn hot outside. The way the harsh light glared off the cars that passed us made it unmistakably clear it was already summertime here.

I rested my head on the warm window, willing my mind to go blank. It had been a while since my mind was actually free of thought. That was really the whole point of being here in the first place – to get rid of all of the distractions, all the things that cluttered my mind. Intrusions into my ability to get down to work had been my nemesis and I had to find peace and quiet if I was going to have any hope of getting over my impossible bout of what I called writer’s block.

Before I could stop the annoyance, it crept in. Why had I been so insistent on taking this project over? Arrogance. Boredom. Stubbornness. All of those had driven this decision. I owned the company. The top people in the industry worked for me, and I didn’t have to do this work myself. I’d kept my skill level up, so I was more than capable, but this wasn’t necessary.

The driver turned on to the beach road and my attention shifted away from work as I caught my first glimpse of the gulf. A smile played at my lips as I gazed far out, past the white sand and the waves crashing in, to the blue water, glistening in the afternoon light.

I checked my watch, which told me I had at least another two hours or so before check-in. I glanced out onto the beach and made a decision. I cleared my throat, leaning toward the driver, who, after trying to make conversation when we first started out, had fallen into a much appreciated silence while he focused on driving me to my destination. Excuse me.

He tilted his head up, his eyes almost hidden by his baseball cap. Yes, sir?

Can we stop just off the road?

We’re almost there. Sure you want to stop here?

I nodded, glancing back out on the beach. We were coming up to a shack painted a faded blue and yellow. The little canteen was fairly busy with people milling around, drinks in their hands. I hadn’t eaten much since breakfast, and I was hungry and thirsty. Can you just drop me off at that little spot right over there?

The driver grunted, but pulled over anyway. I nodded my thanks, passing him a small wad of cash and climbing out of the car. A groan slipped out of my lips as I stood up straight, my knees practically creaking after sitting for so long. Note to self: get up and walk around on the flight back.

Then I sucked in the clean air, the tinge of ocean salt filling my senses and I felt alive again. The warm sun on my back was a relief after the cramped backseat of the car. I’d been worried that the hot, southern sun might be more than I’d bargained for, but the cool ocean breeze did wonders to ease the blow.

I hoisted up my backpack, the only piece of baggage I had, on my back and headed toward the entrance of the beach bar. It was a small establishment, the roof made of straw and the chairs were cheap and wobbly. It looked more like a glorified food cart than anything else. I could hear the sounds of twangy country music seeping from a hidden stereo speaker as I stepped under the roof, a blasting air conditioner cooling my face and drying the small beads of sweat that had already started to form. I chose a chair close to the end of the bar, because that had the most shade and best access to the air conditioning, and sat down.

The bartender, a man with a white baseball cap with the words, Gulf Shores, written on it and paired with a blue t-shirt and orange swim trunks, glanced over. When I made eye contact with him, he stood up straight and walked over to me. How’s it goin’?

I hid my smile. His slow drawl was straight out of every stereotype I’d ever heard about Alabama. His smile was friendly enough, though, so I decided I didn’t mind one bit. Good, mostly, I said.

Can I get you somethin’?

I couldn’t believe it when I saw a slushy machine. Looking up at the chalkboard over the bar, I saw lemonade was the slushy drink of the day.

I’ll have the slushy of the day.

The man raised his bushy eyebrow. All right. Coming up. He stopped and turned back to me before getting my drink. We do have beer if you prefer to drink like an adult. Budweiser on draft. Other domestics in bottles.

Nah, but thanks. Lemonade’s good.

Suit yourself.

As he pulled out a big plastic cup and got my slushy, I couldn’t help but wonder if I shouldn’t have gone with a beer. But by the time he came back and I took my first sip, it didn’t really matter anymore. This was my sabbatical, or whatever I was going to call it, and I was going to have whatever drink I wanted. The lemonade was hitting the spot in this heat.

Now all I needed was something to eat. A second man wearing a t-shirt and swim trunks was manning a grill over on the other side of the bar. Smoke rose in gushes every few minutes. I looked back to the chalkboard and found grouper sandwiches or burgers were available today. When at the beach… eat fish, right?

Hey, um, could I get a grouper sandwich, too? I raised my voice over the music to be sure the bartender had heard me.

Sure. All we have to go with it are chips. Regular or barbecue for you? He lifted his chin as he waited on my response.

No prob. I’ll take regular.

He reached under the bar and pulled out a bag of chips and placed it in front of me. So, you on vacation? the barman asked as he placed a napkin wrapped around plastic utensils beside the bag of chips.

I nodded. Wanted to get away.

From where?

Palo Alto.

The bartender bowed his head in thought for a short moment, Palo Alto. Hmm… But then looked up. California. Right?

I nodded. Yup. San Francisco Bay Area.

What do you do in Palo Alto?

My first instinct was to get defensive over the prying question, but then I realized this must be that Southern hospitality all my coworkers warned me about before I left. I shrugged, and answered the question in the vaguest terms possible. I’m a developer. I do websites, software, apps. Typical techy stuff.

The man nodded slowly, then left me alone to enjoy my drink as he went to check on my sandwich. In only a few minutes he returned placing a paper plate holding the biggest sandwich I’d ever seen. The oversized hoagie roll had a huge piece of grilled grouper hanging out of both ends. Lettuce, tomato, and tartar sauce piled on top. I dug in right away. Best fish sandwich ever and that’s saying quite a bit since I live in the San Francisco Bay area. Some of the best seafood in the country comes out of that place. But this sandwich was one I wouldn’t soon forget. I chuckled and shook my head. I hadn’t expected this when I’d chosen the Alabama Gulf Coast to get away.

Once I’d finished, I stood up and dropped some cash on the bar, hoisted my backpack back on, and made the short walk to the beach. Once I hit the sand, I slipped my sandals off and held them.

The familiar sound of the waves hitting the shore was almost mesmerizing. The slight breeze blew my hair back and I fished for my sunglasses in my pocket. The salt water hit the shore in waves, and even though I was a foot or two above the waterline, the water splashed against my feet occasionally as my toes sunk into the wet sand. I kept walking down the beach, taking in my surroundings as I went. The beach was surprisingly empty—there weren’t many people out, and it was clean and free from any garbage. Overhead, the seagulls circled lazily, their cries the only sound I could hear above the sound of the waves. In the distance, I could see the odd boat breaking up the smooth water further out in the Gulf, but largely I had the beach to myself.

Beach bungalows sat back behind the sea oats and some had small dunes in front of them. When I turned to look behind me, the high-rise hotels and condos weren’t too far away, but they seemed like miles compared to this slower-paced stretch of the beach. Then I saw a small hotel just beyond the last of the beach houses. It looked familiar, and it didn’t take long for me to recognize it from the photos I’d seen online. As I got closer, the bed-and-breakfast came into view more clearly, and I compared it to the image I’d had in my mind. It had looked bigger online, but here, next to the huge expanse of sand, sea, and sky, it seemed much smaller.

It was three stories high with old-fashioned gabled windows on the top floor, and an expansive deck with wide stairs leading to the beach. The pale pink exterior shone brightly in the sun, and aqua blue shutters framed each of its windows. On the upper floors, Juliet balconies with sliding glass doors let the breezy salt air into each room.

I made it to the beach stairs and took them up to the deck where lounge chairs surrounded a modest sized pool with inviting, blue water. I walked by the shallow end and dipped my toe in as I

Reviews for The Beach Bum Billionaire

[Deb Pden · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I thought the characters were good..the storyline was ok. There were two kisses on the lips and two kisses on the cheek. Not quite a robust relationship..