Moore to Lose Read online

  Moore to Lose

  Julie A. Richman

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Book One — Mia

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-one

  Chapter Forty-two

  Chapter Forty-three

  Chapter Forty-four

  Chapter Forty-five

  Book 2 — Schooner

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Book Three — Schooner & Mia

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Author’s Note:

  Endnotes

  About The Author

  Contact Julie

  For The Reader

  This one is for you, Mom … my best friend and biggest cheerleader. I love you more than words can ever express…

  Acknowledgements

  When I hit “publish” in April, 2013, I really had no clue as to how my world was about to change. There was no way to foresee that I was getting on an “E-Ticket” rollercoaster and that the emotional impact of the ride would uncover moments of breathtaking highs and gut-wrenching lows, often experienced back-to-back and just seconds apart. The day before my initial cover reveal, I crawled into bed, went fetal and cried for about three minutes. My overwhelming fear, “What if I only sell thirty copies of Searching for Moore? What if only family and friends purchase it?”

  In the past five months, because of Searching for Moore, I have had the opportunity to cross paths with a lot of very special people:

  Eliza Lund, Nancy S. Thompson and Raine Miller — thank you all for paying it forward with me. The time you spent giving me information, pointing me in the right direction, assuring me I wasn’t crazy (everyone goes through this … this is normal) is so appreciated.

  The members of the blogging community who took a chance on an unknown Indie’s debut novel about 40-somethings. I hadn’t planned on releasing as an Indie, I didn’t know what an ARC copy was, I didn’t have an author page on Facebook until I’d finished writing Searching for Moore (I didn’t think it was right to have an author page if I hadn’t completed a novel), I didn’t know about cover reveals and blog tours and launch parties. Those of you who have been with me since the beginning — initial cover reveal and launch party, I love you for taking a chance on me and for mentoring me (“Julie, have you thought about doing a blog tour?” Thanks, B. … “Julie, you really need a new cover” … Thanks, L.). And for those of you who I have met along the way, thank you for loving Schooner and Mia and their story and for sharing it with your followers and for embracing me.

  A big thank you to Robin Harper for creating such wonderful covers for both Searching for Moore and Moore to Lose and to Chef David Waltuck for helping me with my overwhelming need to have all the details right.

  The fans of Searching for Moore — Wow, you amaze me and inspire me. The notes that you have written to me upon finishing Searching for Moore have buoyed me on a daily basis. Knowing that my characters and their story have touched your hearts has been the most amazing gift in the world anyone could ever give me. To all of you — thank you for taking the chance on me and for falling in love with Schooner and Mia and their tale.

  To Street Team members and Betas (for both books) — I am so lucky to have you and I appreciate your support, enthusiasm, input and excitement.

  To The Sweethearts … you have my heart! Countless thanks for the support, shoulders, laughs, tears, snorts, photos, videos — for sharing your worlds and for making mine a better place. You light up my world every single day.

  To my Mom … the dedication to this book says it all. I love you.

  To M. — Thank you for entrusting me. I hope I did you proud.

  ~ Julie A. Richman, September 2013

  Book One

  Mia

  Chapter One

  Now …

  Schooner Moore ran the towel over his right shoulder and down his rock hard quadriceps, continuing along a well defined forearm, up an equally impressive bicep and across his muscular chest. He then resumed the same process on the other side. As the owner of a formidable chain of health club/entertainment complexes, it was very clear that Schooner took impeccable care of his body and had been a lifelong athlete. Beyond that, he was blessed with what David Bowie once referred to as, “God Given Ass.”i The tall Californian looked more like an actor or a model than a businessman.

  Continuing down to his superbly defined abs, Schooner had to laugh to himself that back in February he had wondered if forty-three was still hot. As he reached down to dry his thickening cock and thought of Mia sleeping in the bedroom down the hall, he ironically felt hotter and more powerful than he’d ever felt in his twenties or thirties, and more alive as one of eight million people in New York City, than he had as one of the most successful entrepreneurs in Orange County.

  Grabbing another towel and running it through his thick, dirty blonde hair, it occurred to him that maybe he should start bringing a pair of gym shorts into the bathroom with him. Mia’s assistant, Seth, had a key to their apartment and let himself in every morning. Not that Seth minded seeing Schooner in a towel.

  As he exited the bathroom, the delicious smell of bacon cooking permeated the air. Schooner realized Seth must have already arrived and started breakfast for himself and Mia. Entering the bedroom, he hoped to get a few minutes of snuggling time with Mia before Seth brought breakfast into her. Standing in the doorway, he looked at the rumpled sheets. The empty bed. “I am going to kill her,” he thought.

  With long legged strides, he was standing at the breakfast bar, arms crossed over his bare chest. Schooner was seething.

  Mia looked up from the stove, giving him her devil grin, “I am so jonesing for bacon this morning.”

  “What do the words ‘Bed Rest’ mean to you, Mia?”

  “Umm, that roughly translates to bored shitless,” she was still smiling at him.

  Schooner glared at her, his eyes, the ice blue of perfect sapphires, bored into her and she was getting turned on by his anger — giving Mia good enough reason to fuck with him a little more.

  “Would you like one egg or two?” holding the spatula like a game show hostess from “The Price is Right.”

  With his hands now on the breakfast bar, he leaned his
weight forward, his voice little more than a whisper. “I am not amused, Ms. Silver. Turn off that damn stove now.”

  Mia smiled, most amused by the fact that she was a horny pregnant woman.

  They both turned their heads at the sound of keys in the door.

  Seth Shapiro walked through the door, his expressive eyes delighted at seeing a towel wrapped, half-naked Schooner Moore. “Damn, what a fine sight,” was written all over his face. It took Seth a moment to process that Mia was standing there — cooking breakfast — and Schooner was livid (and gorgeous).

  “BBC, what are you doing out of bed?” Seth screamed at Mia, as he made his way toward her and plucked the spatula from her hand.

  “It appears we have an NCBBC on our hands this morning.”

  Mia and Seth looked at Schooner for an explanation.

  “A non-compliant BBC. Come on NCBBC, I’m taking you back to bed.”

  “Promises, promises.” Mia muttered, as Schooner led her back to the bedroom, leaving Seth to make breakfast, muttering “Bitch Be Crazy.”

  Putting pillows behind her back, Schooner shook his head, “What were you thinking? Gary made it very clear — total bed rest or he’s putting you back in the hospital for the remainder of your pregnancy. Is that what you want?”

  “Of course that’s not what I want, but come on, Schooner — it’s me. Do I ever stop? I don’t do well in the invalid role. I am going crazy.”

  Schooner ignored her, “So, what’s your pain level today.”

  Mia sighed deeply and looked Schooner in the eyes. He wasn’t going to let her get away with anything. “About a six.”

  “How dizzy are you?” Gently rubbing her forearm, the ice blue of his sapphire eyes had melted forming clear blue pools into which Mia wanted to dive.

  “Not much.”

  Schooner lay down next to Mia and pulled her head down on his chest. “I know this is hard for you, Baby Girl, I do. I really do. But we do not have all that long before Nathaniel is born to get you as healthy and as strong as we can get you. Best case scenario, Mia, is that we have eleven weeks to go. Once he gets here, you are not going to be wanting to deal with the headaches and the dizziness. You were a high risk pregnancy prior to the accident.”

  Mia shuddered in Schooner’s arms and he wrapped them around her tighter and kissed the top of her head. No worries, he thought, she’s lying in your arms. Intellectually he knew that, but the lingering fear in his gut felt as real now as it had a month before when he didn’t know what hospital she had been taken to or in what condition he would find her and their unborn son.

  Standing curbside outside of his new Level 9 Health and Entertainment complex on its opening night and paralyzed with the fear that he would lose everything he loved most, Schooner admonished himself for once again failing at the promise he had made — the promise to take care of all those he loved, the promise he first made when he was eighteen years old, the promise to take care of Mia.

  Not a person to remain incapacitated for long in any situation, Schooner gathered his thoughts and quickly found his friend and security expert, Charles Sloan, and the two men, along with Schooner’s daughter, Holly, and Charles’ wife, Gaby, headed to the hospital. Thank God Charles and Gaby knew exactly where Mia had been taken.

  Mia was conscious when he got there and being taken for a CT scan. Schooner was at her side as the gurney was being wheeled down the hall. “Baby Girl, I’m here. I’m with you. You’re doing great.” Mia didn’t respond, her eyelids fluttering and closing.

  “Mia, stay with us, I don’t want you going to sleep. Do you understand what I’m saying?” Dr. Gary Cohen, usually very laid back in his approach with patients, was being very stern in his directives to Mia.

  As they wheeled her into the CT Scan imaging room, Gary took Schooner aside. “Here’s what we’re doing. We need to take a look at Mia’s brain and skull and assess what is going on there. That is of the utmost importance right now. The baby’s well being is contingent upon Mia’s well being. The fact that she is conscious is a great sign. Once we’ve determined what is going on with Mia, I’m going to do an ultrasound of the baby.” He paused and Schooner nodded. “The good news is, the baby has a lot of cushioning. What we’re going to be looking for is placental abruption or uterine rupture, but we need to check Mia head to toe first — and frankly it’s her head that I’m most concerned about.”

  A month later and that was still the biggest concern. A fractured skull, moderate traumatic brain injury and ongoing headaches, dizziness and short-term memory issues. All in all, Mia was one very lucky lady and Nathaniel appeared to have taken it all in stride. Gary and Schooner’s major concern was Mia regaining her health prior to the baby’s arrival, and with limited activity, lessening the chance of falling during a dizzy spell and causing harm to herself or the baby. Gary’s goal was to get Mia as far along in her pregnancy as he could before having to deliver Nathaniel.

  Mia looked up from Schooner’s chest. “I have cabin fever, Schooner. I just want to run away.”

  Schooner stroked her hair and smiled down at her. “Try running away from me again and this time you won’t get very far. I will track down your ass and hunt you down like a dog.” He laughed. “It’s not like the 80’s anymore, Baby Girl, when if you wanted to disappear you could, and did, disappear. No internet, no cell phones. Those days are over.”

  Mia smiled, “I’d take you with me this time. I learned that lesson the hard way,” and Schooner assumed she had.

  “Now you’re the Queen of Understatement, BBC.” Seth commented on Mia’s declaration about learning the hard way as he entered with her breakfast on a tray and sat down next to her on the bed.

  Although Mia hadn’t told Schooner many details of their years apart, he surmised that Seth Shapiro had always been there for Mia in both her brightest and darkest moments. Their love and bond was something to behold, and Schooner took comfort in knowing that in all the time he couldn’t be there for her, the whole time she mistakenly thought he didn’t love her, Mia had someone by her side who loved her deeply, understood her and knew when to reign her in when she was going off the rails. What Schooner didn’t know was just how perceptive he was and that maybe he was the King of Understatement.

  Chapter Two

  Then …

  Tom Sheehan was loving life. Twenty-seven, MFA in creative writing completed, his Sci-Fi screenplay under consideration by two Hollywood studios, and an amazing teaching gig that had fortuitously landed in his lap. Most unfortunate for his old mentor, George Roy, who was convalescing from a massive heart attack and had to withdraw for both semesters from teaching his upper level year long creative writing seminars – but very good luck for Tom Sheehan.

  With his dark Irish good looks and the cultivated sensitivity of a poet, Tom’s charm was working wonders on his students – 70% of whom were female. It was three weeks into the fall semester and he was already nailing two of them. At twenty-one, the two seniors, Sherri and Jacqueline, were old enough and certainly experienced enough to keep him very satisfied, but they were also young enough to look up to him like he was just short of a god. It was a heady feeling.

  “We are almost done with the poetry unit.” Almost all fifteen in his upper-level writing seminar cheered at the news. Students had submitted writing samples to Professor Roy, a particularly harsh critic, to gain entry to the coveted seminar, so Tom was working with a highly talented group comprised mostly of seniors, a few highly capable juniors and one sophomore transfer student. “Is everyone ready for short stories and screenplay adaptation?” Smiling out at the group, he could see that they were totally over and done with the poetry segment — never a favorite amongst students.

  “I know poetry has not been everyone’s favorite,” he continued, “and I know you didn’t appreciate some of the assignments,” he smiled out at them as he effortlessly covered the front of the room in a slow, deliberate pace, “especially the ones from the insect’s and animal’s point of view. B
ut we have one more poetry assignment — the last poetry assignment, and it’s due Monday. This will be the first assignment without character or theme constraints. This one is all you. And if you thought the others were difficult, they were nothing. For this assignment, you need to dig deep. Give me something so personal that you are embarrassed to look me in the face. If I get fluff, it will be reflected in your grade. I will pretty much be grading the poetry segment of the course on how you perform with this assignment.”

  He stopped his pacing and was looking down at the floor. Shoving his hands into his Docker’s pockets, he slowly looked up and smiled at the fifteen. “Have a great weekend.”

  They started to shuffle out of the class, both Sherri and Jacqueline packing their backpacks slowly. His little transfer student made her way from the back of the classroom. This one was an enigma. She seemed to be hiding behind a mane of unruly curls and dark sunglasses that never came off.

  “You going to give me something good with this assignment, Mia?”

  She smiled, “I don’t know about that. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, my poetry pretty much sucks. I promise my prose is significantly more adept.”

  “Poetry is a tough medium, even for a lot of very prolific writers.” As he packed up his desk, he hoped Sherri and Jacqueline would leave. He continued talking to Mia, “Just try and be as raw as you can with this last assignment. There are no rules attached to this one.” Her face belied little and he wondered what was going on behind those dark shades.