A L Brooks [Brooks - The Long Shot

Table Of Contents

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www.ylva-publishing.com

Other Books by A.L. Brooks

Write Your Own Script

One Way or Another

Up on the Roof

Miles Apart

Dark Horse

The Club

Acknowledgments

I want to start by thanking my wonderful partner, Tanja, for her incredible support through the writing of this one. This book was written while I was in the middle of the planning and subsequent realization of my move from the UK to Germany, and I honestly couldnt have done either of those rather big things without her. My love, you always boost me when Im low, shout from the rooftops at my successes, and, best of all, buy me chocolate and/or wine when all else fails. Top girlfriend points awarded to you!

As always, thanks to Ylva Publishing for all that you do to bring my books to the world. Thanks to Miranda and Amanda for a lovely editing experience and to Sandra for teaching me things about grammar I never knew existed. I promise to keep my dangly participles hidden from view in the future

To my wonderful beta readers Erin and Katja. I love how you two never let me get away with anything and really push me to delve deep into my characters motivations and desires. And thank you to Kym for the sensitivity read and advice.

Finally, a massive shout-out to Judy Comella, stalwart member of the Golden Crown Literary Society, for the excellent feedback and assistance on the behind-the-scenes life of the womens golf tour. Any mistakes remaining in that regard are purely down to me. And thank you to the GCLS for offering a database of experts who can be called on for things such as thiswhat a fantastic resource.

Chapter 1

The bead of sweat tracked its way down Morgans neck. She exhaled slowly and tried to relax her tight shoulders.

Ten feet. Thats all this putt was. Ten feet between her and a playoff for a chance to win the first major of her career.

But youve been this close before , a nasty little voice whispered in her head. Twice. And each time you blew it .

Strange how that voice only ever made an appearance at the pressure moments. Never on the practice rounds or in the gym or out on a run. Only when it was the crunch shot on the final green of the final round.

A tickle of warm breeze lifted a few loose strands of hair underneath her ponytail. Somewhere behind her someone coughed, and to her right the creek in front of the green gurgled as it trundled over the bedrock.

She shouldnt be aware of any of this. She should be focused only on the small, white ball in front of her, the weight of the putter in her hand. Come on, concentrate!

If Harry could read her mind, hed be tutting. Knowing her caddy stood behind her, probably with his hands in his pockets and probably wondering what the hell she was up to, Morgan slowly inhaled before stepping forward to the ball.

The putter settled in her hands, the rubberized grip warm against her palms and fingertips. She glanced to her left, even though she knew exactly where the hole was. Licking her lips, she settled her feet into place. She adjusted her position in minute increments until she hit that spot, that perfect blend of balance and poise and calm, her head over the ball.

Itll swing left but not as much as you might think, Harry had said when theyd lined up the shot only a minute or so before. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Dont overcompensate. Youll twitch cause youre nervous, and that will probably be enough to send it on its way.

Shed rolled her eyes at him but appreciated what hed tried to dorelax her, make it seem like any other putt on any other day.

Ten feet, thats all .

Breathe in, take the putter back, then breathe out and swing it back in to make contact.

As soon as the ball moved, the crowd noise erupted. Shouts of Get in the hole! came from all angles, but Morgan didnt react, didnt move, simply kept her head turned toward the hole, watching the ball roll, bobble a little, start to swing left, and

The groans and gasps that surrounded her were loud, a rolling wave that threatened to drown her.

The ball swung by the hole, its trajectory too far to the left.

She closed her eyes and gripped the putter so tightly she wondered if it would snap.

Harrys hand on the small of her back brought her back into the reality, the reality she really didnt want to face. But she was a professional, and courtesy dictated she walk forward, tap her ball in from where it had come to a stop a mere three inches from the hole, and then step out of the way after acknowledging the muted applause from the crowd.

Kim Lee, her Korean opponent, stepped up and calmly slotted in her two-foot putt to confirm the win. As the crowd went wild, she raised her arms aloft, a huge smile splitting her face.

Morgan gave her a moment. After handing the putter to Harry, she shook his hand, then strolled across the green to congratulate Lee, who had now won the Womens US Open. Kim Lee was all smiles but patted Morgan on the shoulder as they grasped hands.

Bad luck. Lees words seemed heartfelt.

Morgan mustered a smile. You played well. You deserve the win.

Hundreds of camera flashes pinged off around them. The ESPN and Golf Channel TV cameramen circled around them. Keeping her smile fixed in place, Morgan shook Lees hand.

Thank you! Lee gushed before letting go and facing the applauding crowd, whose cheers rose in volume. Sure, most of the crowd would have rather seen a home winner, but they were golf fans above all else, and the best player had won.

Morgan, her face aching from maintaining the smile, walked over to where Harry tucked her putter back into the bag, his towel rammed into one of his pockets. His face was expressionless; he was the consummate pro, and she loved him for it. The last thing she needed to see right now was any sort of disappointment on the face of the man whod caddied for her the whole of her professional career.

Im thinking pulled-pork burger and fries, he said when she reached him.

What? Even for Harry, that comment was way out of left field.

Tonight. For dinner. Im buying. He gave her a slow smile. Might even shout you a beer too. Light, of course.

Morgan sighed. Harry, you know I cant.

Oh, all right, a soda, then.

She bumped his shoulder with hers. It was a constant source of annoyance to him that she was an inch taller than his five ten, and the shoulder bump always emphasized it. Which was why she regularly performed it.

You know what I mean, she said, her voice not much more than a whisper.

Harry sighed, pulled the towel from his pocket, and wiped his hands on it before stuffing it into the side pocket of the bag that held all of Morgans clubs and equipment. When he stood to face her again, his eyes were full of kindness and understanding.

A lump formed in her throat.

Id never tell you what to do, you know that, he said.

She placed a gentle hand on his bicep to stop him. I know. But itd hurt Mom if I didnt go.

Harry exhaled noisily and ran a tanned hand over his even more tanned face. His brown eyes held hers. Jack won, by the way. Just so you know.

Morgan closed her eyes. Shit. She shook her head. Good for him.

Burger with me instead?