Flash Fiction

Shenanigans, and love scenes, and flashbacks, oh my!


I put up this poster on Facebook the other day to mixed reviews. What do you think? Some think it is too soft for the series, and they have a point. I was thinking that at the heart of the series (no pun intended) is love and family, so that was the theme I was going with. I’d really love more opinions before I go to the expense of making posters to give to fans. Thanks!

On a related note, have you read all of the supplemental scenes? If not, here are the links that can always be found on this website. I hope you are busy reading Third Time’s The Charm; I cannot wait to hear your opinions!

Downey Series Missing Scenes:

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NEW BEGINNINGS (A young Tommy Gates Flashback)

This short scene features a young Tommy Gates and Kyle Anderson (from Bird Day Battalion & V-Day Aversion) and is set shortly before the flashback scene in the first chapter of First, I Love You in which Mickey finds Mary & Tommy.


HER PRINCE (A Mickey Downey & Mary Gates Flashback)

This scene features a nineteen year old Mary Gates, freshly arrived in New York, talking with her new best friend Claire (Anderson) Underwood about the mysterious new man she started seeing, Michael…something or another.


CONVERSATIONS AT 30,000 FT (A Maeve Downey & Ginny Sommers Missing Moment)

This is a quick missing moment from Second of All set aboard the flight to Dublin that both Maeve and Ginny are on. Don’t read if you don’t like spoilers!


LETTERS FROM MICKEY DOWNEY (Letters Mickey Downey wrote to his loved ones)

These are the letters referenced in the Downey Trilogy that Mickey wrote to his loved ones over the years. In the books, the reader rarely gets to see the contents of these letters so I have begun sharing them as Wednesday blog posts. Check back as I add more.


THE GOOD LIFE (A Dominic Valentini & Katelyn Anderson Flashback)

Right now this flashback is the prologue to the Dom & Kate novel “The Good Life” but it is possible it may not make it in. It will stay here in any case.


SPECIAL DELIVERY  (A Kiki Downey & James Hoffman Missing Moment from First, I Love You)

A love scene shortly after James and Kiki first “hook up” as Kiki puts it. — Warning! 18+ For Sexual Material!  Published in A World of Romance Anthology


SECOND CHANCES (A Mickey Downey & Mary Gates Flashback)

This is a flashback to when Mary tells Mickey she is pregnant with Tommy, and Mickey persuades Mary to be his mistress. — Warning: 18+ For Language and Brief Sexual Material!


“Second Chances” A Mickey&Mary Flashback (Warning: contains brief sexual material)

So a few weeks ago I asked you to tell me your favorite Mickey & Mary moment in The Downey Trilogy so far. I said I’d draw a winner and that person could request a M&M flash fiction; past, present, or future. I have two winners, Penny and Clyde. Penny wanted something “sweet”, and Clyde wanted a flashback to when Mary & Mickey got back together after finding out about the baby. He wanted to see “what has changed and what has stayed the same”.

What you have here is the bitter-sweet result. Even without reading Third Time’s The Charm, I think you will be able to see how much has changed between them, especially on Mickey’s part. And yet, when you do read Third Time’s The Charm, this flashback may help shine a light on what has not changed.

If you haven’t read the other Mary & Mickey flashback which takes place before this one, you can do so here.

And if you want even more insight into Mickey Downey’s convoluted mind, read his letters here.

Please note, this vignette contains adult subject matter, including sexual material and language.

Second Chances

By Genevieve Dewey

“But when I realized I was pregnant a few weeks later, I worked up the courage to tell him, hoping it might be just the thing he needed to make a clean break. Oh, don’t give me that look Tommy! I was nineteen! I was alone and pregnant. He said he loved me. But it was too late. They’d just gotten back from their honeymoon. But he promised he would take care of me. Foolish, foolish girl that I was, by the time you were born I had let him back in my heart and back in my bed.” – First, I Love You, Chapter Ten.
“I can remember the first night we got back together after finding out about the baby. I was overjoyed to have a second chance with you. You cried in my arms and I promised you I would always take care of you and our baby. I held you close and we would make love and sleep and make love again, never really letting go of each other. We were so close, so close I could feel more than just your heart beat, I felt like I knew the very dreams inside your soul…” – Third Time’s The Charm, Chapter Seven.


Twenty-Six Years Ago

Mickey slipped his hand into his jacket pocket again and grasped the key to his mother’s old brownstone. He closed his eyes as his fingers clasped it tight and allowed himself one more nervous, deep breath.

Nervous… over some girl. A nineteen year old girl. You gotta snap the hell out of it, he thought.

He opened his eyes to the sight of Mary frozen on the sidewalk about twenty paces away. Her face was blanched white, eyes startled and wary. He smiled tentatively, trying not to frighten her any more than his appearance outside her apartment building had clearly already accomplished. His mouth felt dry and his palms had a humiliating dampness to them.

He moved his left thumb and fiddled with the band of his wedding ring to remind himself he had no right to presume anything. No right to even hope.

“May I help you with those groceries?” he asked, remembering his manners at least.

She swallowed then nodded. He took the steps forward to take them from her, keeping her gaze. She looked not just peaked, but slightly unwell. Her trembling hand brushed her hair behind her ears then she looked down and fished out her keys from her purse.

“You, uh, you said you had something you needed to tell me?” he asked in the continuing silence.

She dropped the keys. He watched her pause on her way back up from retrieving them. He followed her line of sight to his ring. He quickly transferred the bag of groceries to his left hand. When her gaze met his again, she had lost some of her trepidation and simply looked tired. She nodded at nothing, as if having decided something then carried on into the building, still without answering his question.

He had placed almost all of her groceries in her nearly empty refrigerator before she did answer.

“I’m pregnant,” Mary said in a matter-of-fact manner.

It seemed to echo in the tiny apartment, or maybe that was his ears… or soul.

“I’m married,” he answered stupidly.

He cringed. Stupid, stupid… shit.

“I know that,” she countered, eyes finally flashing with something other than defeat.

“I just meant…” Mickey stopped and cleared his throat. “I just mean that if I could… that would be the first thing… I mean…”

He stopped speaking and rubbed his face.

“Michael…” he heard her soft voice say.

He dropped his hands and opened his eyes to see she had moved to stand a couple inches from him.

“I understand… you thought you had to marry her. Her father…” Mary began to say.

“No!” Mickey interrupted. “You don’t understand! And it’ll stay that way!”

She stepped back, a trace of fear returning to her face.

He grabbed her in that split second of shock and pulled her in for a desperate embrace. Damn words… they betrayed him, stood useless and obfuscating, against what his heart wanted to say. She struggled briefly then went limp against him. He dropped his grip only long enough to move one hand to her hair and bring her head back.

He claimed her mouth and let his lips speak far better than his feeble and contradictory words. He didn’t know whether it was to appease him or if she still returned his affections, but she kissed him back. She even seemed reluctant to part when he stopped the kiss.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against her bruised lips. He hated how his voice shook a bit.

Her eyes searched his and a single tear escaped. He stopped it with his mouth, kissing a trail back to her eyelid. He felt her nails grip his back and she both squeezed and shook him. Silent sobs quaked within her delicate frame. He stopped holding her and grabbed her face.

He kissed her again, this time less supplicating, more frantic. He was handling this all wrong, he knew. There was nothing he wanted more in the world than a second chance with her. But he knew what she was about to say; she wanted him to give her and this baby his name. And, of course, it was the one thing he couldn’t give her.

She pushed him away.

“We can’t,” she wailed.

She wiped furiously at her eyes as if she could banish the presence of pain.

“We can’t be together until you leave her,” she continued. “But once you do, we can start over with this baby. Be our own family.”

“I want to be with you,” Mickey replied. “More than you could possibly know. But Theresa and I just got married, Mary. It’s not as easy as you make it out.”

“What’s not easy? You said you loved me, not her. I’m having your child!”

Mickey held up a placating hand.

“I do love you. I want you and this child.”

“Then leave!”

“It’s more complicated than that. It’s been over a month since you and I parted. You said we were over…”

“Because I found out you were a—”

“Businessman,” he interrupted.

“And you refused to break up with her!” she continued furiously.

“I asked for more time. You said you never wanted to see me again.”

“That was before I…” she trailed off and walked over to the couch.

She sat on the dilapidated tweed monstrosity and wrung her hands. She rocked back and forth, looking ridiculously young and lost.

He felt like the lowest of bastards.

“Mary…” he said softly. “No matter what happens between us, or not, you don’t have to worry about supporting our baby alone. I’ll take care of you, both of you.”

He reached in his pocket and gripped the key again. He’d slipped it in his pocket on the off-chance she had reconsidered being with him and that was why she had called. He was glad he had, because he could give the brownstone to her now as a peace offering. Then maybe when she realized he was serious about taking care of her, she would give in and be with him again.

He sat next to her on the couch. She scooted a bit away. He sighed and held his palm out flat, the key in its center.

“This is the key to my mother’s house, where I grew up. Not far from here.”

Her head whipped over. She looked at him in genuine curiosity. He pressed his advantage.

“She asked me to give it to my realtor so he could find her a renter. I’d be happy to just let you—”

“No,” she interrupted firmly. “If I move there, I’ll pay rent. Directly to the realtor.”

He smiled a little. She had no idea how much easier that made it on him and his mother, to have Mary’s name on the documents and not his. Even if she stubbornly used her own money at first, it wouldn’t be nearly the amount that would actually exchange hands.

“Of course,” he replied. “But, let me pay half, and half the groceries, for the baby’s sake. I have to warn you, it’s not in the greatest shape. No one’s updated it in years. But everything’s in working order, which would be an improvement over this dump.”

“That’s fine,” she said eagerly.

He was pleased to see she was looking less forlorn. He moved his hand to her thigh. She stopped it with both of hers.

“Michael,” Mary warned. “We are not getting back together as long as you’re married.”

He took his hand back and nodded.

“I understand.”

Her brows knitted briefly and she tilted her head.

“What?” he asked.

“I’m glad you’re not angry… about the baby.”

“Angry at what? My own carelessness? It was that time on New Year’s, wasn’t it?”

She flushed and smiled down at her hands.

“I’m due the end of September, so probably, yes,” she mumbled.

He frowned as he finally did the math and realized she had kept the pregnancy from him longer than a month. He reached out and nudged her chin back up.

“It’s going to be alright, I promise,” he said.

He placed the key in her cupped hands.

“Take this. I’m sorry I can’t give you more just yet. Just… not yet,” he finished and stood up. “You know how to reach me.”

She nodded. He leaned down and kissed her on her forehead then hurried to the door before he lost his strength and started promising her more things he had no right to promise her.


He turned in the doorway.

“I—I just needed some space. But I… I would like you to be a part of this baby’s life.”

She was wringing her hands again.

He smiled reassuringly. It was endearing how she thought she’d have to ask. If she only knew… he felt like he’d won the lottery; a baby would tie her to him forever.

“I’ll have the realtor drop by with the paperwork. You can move in anytime. It’s fully furnished. Just let me know when you decide to move, and I’ll send some men from the shipyard over to help. You shouldn’t be lifting anything in your condition.”

She released a tiny laugh and clicked her teeth. He thought he could hear her say something about overprotective men as he shut the door. He put his porkpie fedora back on and contemplated the nasty hallway floor. He’d give her a couple months, three maximum, alone in that three bedroom brownstone, playing the gentleman. Then he would start to show her how much better it would be with occasional company, leading to the occasional touch. No pressure.

His good intentions lasted a month.

On a bright sunny day in May, he told Theresa he’d be out of town for a week—and he would be, as Brooklyn was obviously not Riverdale. If it had been up to him, they would have picked a reasonable house on Staten Island, where he “worked”. He despised commuting. Unfortunately, one didn’t turn down wedding gifts from Giovanni Anastasio. But Theresa knew he hated that stuffy mansion, and used every excuse he could to be away, so she wouldn’t think anything of it. He wouldn’t have bothered with chicanery, except he had promised not to flaunt the fact it was a loveless marriage. And he figured a mistress and a baby might stretch the limits of her father’s patience.

Since it was Big Joe that insisted Mickey and Theresa get married in the old neighborhood, at the same Brooklyn church Mary attended, the fact they were immediately afterwards “gifted” with a home nowhere near Theresa’s rival had probably not been a coincidence. Nothing Big Joe did was a coincidence. Until now, Mickey had thought it a blessing since he seemed incapable of forgetting this slip of a girl through mere will-power.

He put in a brief appearance at the new financial office downtown then took the subway to Queens to make a very public show of visiting Luciano’s “social club”. Then he rented a car and drove into Brooklyn. He had a vague thought about changing his clothes but figured less people would recognize him in his suit and tie. In fact, they might just assume he was the realtor checking on the new tenant in the old Downey home.

It was supper time when he showed up on his mother’s doorstep—now Mary’s doorstep—with a bouquet of unopened red roses and a grin full of intent.

She had a nervous, but obviously delighted countenance.

“How are you settling in, Mary girl?” he asked.

“Mary girl!” she laughed.

Her eyes had dark circles under them, but her hair looked a little healthier, and her complexion was a bit less wan.

“That’s the second time you’ve called me that,” she continued as she tugged him inside. “The first time I almost thought you called me a marigold.”

“Well, your name’s Mary, and you’re my girl.”

“I’m not your girl,” she replied and waggled a finger like a schoolteacher.

It was totally incongruous with her youthful appearance dressed in jazzercise clothes, her hair in a bushy pony-tail. A slight thickness to her middle was the only indication she was pregnant.

“You’re a girl,” he bantered as he followed her into the little living room. “Anybody with a teen attached to their age is.”

He set the flowers on the end table nearest her and stood close enough to make her tilt her head up to look at him.

“And what does that make you?” she asked in a pert tone.

“A dirty thirty year old man,” he whispered, his lips just shy of hers.

She shuddered and caught her breath.


“Aye, the lad’s a poet and di’n know’t,” he teased in an Irish accent.

He dipped his head to kiss her neck.


He stepped back before she could push him away.

“So, do you need any groceries?” he asked quickly.

He walked towards the kitchen before she could argue. Being back in this house was making him feel… well, he didn’t know what. Alive? Young again? Filled with purpose?

He turned back around to see her contemplating him with a wary, but entranced, gaze.

This wasn’t even going to be difficult, he thought with a twinge of disappointment.

Then he felt a most unprecedented sense of guilt. It wasn’t stemming from the fact this was morally wrong, him manipulating her into being his mistress, but from the sudden clarity that she deserved much better. But the milk was already spilt. She had his child in her; she would be his responsibility regardless. He might as well make sure it would be a pleasurable arrangement for her.

Unexpectedly, she smiled.

“Would you like to stay for supper?” she asked.

There was just a hint of playful resignation in her voice, enough to tell him she recognized he had intended on wrangling an invitation from the beginning.

He ordered food to be delivered, and while they waited, he quizzed her on the status of her pregnancy and whether she was taking care of herself. He asked questions about her waitress duties at the restaurant. She seemed pleased by his interest, but he just wanted to make sure she would not be exhausting herself working in a different borough. He might see about finding her a desk job at a nice accountant’s office here in Brooklyn, or better yet, convince her she didn’t need to work at all.

After they ate, he insisted she lay on the couch while he gave her a foot massage. She was still staring at him like she couldn’t believe her own luck. He was the lucky one, he knew that. If she knew even half of what there was to know about him, she’d run for the hills. At least she already knew he was connected, so there was that.

When he heard her soft snores, he moved his hands from her feet, took his dress shirt off, and undid his belt. He tugged gradually at her stirrup pants and gently pulled them down to reveal her gorgeous, milky-white legs.

She murmured indistinctly in her sleep, but didn’t wake.

He slowly, firmly, moved his hands along her thighs, over her luscious hips, and underneath her baggy, bright-colored top. He began kissing her stomach and the under-edges of her breasts. As he gently took a rosy nipple in his mouth he reached one hand between her legs and caressed her nub.

She moaned and her hips arched in rhythm with his strokes. He lifted his head from her breast to study her face. Her eyelashes fluttered, but what glimpses he had of her eyes told him she was still more than half asleep. He dipped his mouth to her neck and nibbled just above her collarbone the way she liked. His fingers entered her and he was pleased to see she was very wet. Her muscles clamped around his fingers and she breathed out a long sigh.

He raised his head again, and just as her eyes fully opened and recognition dawned, he captured her mouth. He pressed her head down with the force of his kisses as he fumbled with his pants to liberate himself. Her hands pushed against his chest, but he scooped his other hand underneath her on the couch and pressed their bodies together.

“Oh!” she exclaimed as he entered her.

He kissed her a few more deep times then lightly dragged his lips along her cheeks. She was panting and breathless.

“Tell me to stop, and I will…” he whispered.

“You… you might’ve… asked before… oh, Michael…” she groaned in pleasure as he began to move faster.

He knew he wasn’t playing fair. But he never had before, why start now? He needed her with a desperation that felt like that last second of holding one’s breath before drawing air. There was something different when he was with Mary; he couldn’t put his finger on it. It wasn’t just the sex, it was being with her. There was no shortage of beautiful women in New York City, and she wasn’t even beautiful, more classically pretty in a wholesome, milkmaid sort of way.

But he was captivated by her.

Her smile seemed more radiant than the most cultured of society belles. Her laughter, more real and genuine than any he had ever heard. Everything about her was a novelty to him. Everything she did, unique and precious. He almost felt… cleansed in her arms. The idea someone so sweet, pure, and innocent thought him something of a prize… it was intoxicating.

He bit on her lips, drawing out gasps and squeaks, then grabbed her tight round ass and squeezed its cheek as he brought her hip up a bit. He finished a bit rougher than he’d planned, but he had been hard pressed for her since he woke up.

He allowed himself the physical and emotional release of laying on top of her for a few seconds then rolled them both over so they were side-to-side on the couch.

“Did you get a…?” he asked.

“Yes…” she breathed, eyes still closed.

He rubbed his hand up and down her back, watching the pulse in her neck and the sweat glisten against her pale, flawless skin.

“I guess that’s one advantage to you being pregnant; no need for rubbers.”

Her brownish-green eyes blinked open. She started to smile then it morphed into a frown. She looked a little nauseated.

“Are you… do you have morning sickness?”

Her frown deepened and she pushed from him to sit up. He snuck his hand under her top and ran his fingertips along her spine. She shivered.


“Are you sleeping with her?” she asked, so softly that he barely heard her.

His mouth opened a few times, but he had no words to put in it. Had they been? Yes, of course. Would they now? He had no idea. He hadn’t really thought any of this out.

“She knows I’m in love with you and not her,” he finally managed to say.

That was true enough…

Mary seemed to have enough skepticism to look over her shoulder at him with narrowed eyes.

He chuckled.

“Mary, it’s a marriage of convenience. She has trouble standing up to her father. She wants a career and he wants her to be someone’s good little wife. Since I need his support to… properly run my business, we made a deal, her and I. That’s all it is between us, just a temporary arrangement until she finishes her degree in fashion.”

She frowned again then scooted a bit so she faced him more.

“I guess I can I understand that on her end. My parents didn’t approve of me coming here, wanting a singing career. It’s hard when you don’t want to disappoint someone you love. I wish that I could have found a way to follow my dreams and keep my parents happy at the same time.”

Such a sweet girl… feeling empathy for Theresa.

Little did she know; that viper wasn’t worth her concern. Theresa was a great ride-or-die sort of friend, but she rarely did anything out of love or compassion for others’ feelings.

“But I really don’t understand how it benefits you?” Mary wondered.

“See, the way it works in my business is… well, it’s sort of like the military. You have to work your way up through the ranks by proving your worth, by people who are higher than you promoting you. I need her father to vouch for me if I want to be Boss like him some day.”

Good god, man, shut the hell up. Why are you telling her this?

“So… it’s just a temporary means to an end?”


Her tiny hand traced the Sicilian flag on his left bicep.

“Did you get this for him?”

“No, for my grandmother. She’s Italian.”

“I didn’t realize that… there’s a lot about you I don’t know,” she replied in a question laden statement. There seemed to be a catch in her voice.

He sat up and took her hands. He waited until she met his gaze. Her eyes shimmered with fresh tears.

“Mary, I would give anything if I could give you what you want right now, but I really can’t. But I do love you, and you love me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she replied in a strangled cry.

“We can be happy here. I can spend the rest of this week with you and see you as often as I can after that. I’ll be here for our baby’s birth, to help you raise him or her, and one day, we’ll be together all the time. I swear it. Just say you’ll take me back, and on my life, I will make it happen.”

He meant that. Absolutely meant it.

He just had no idea how the hell he was going to make it happen.

She nodded, flung her arms around his neck, and cried. He rocked her back and forth for a while then lifted her in his arms and carried her into the bedroom. He laid her down on the bed and kissed and caressed her until her sobs turned into sighs of pleasure again.

They never fully slept that night, just made love and dozed, and then made love some more. He found himself yet again whispering promises he had no right to make. He needed her to believe them, believe it enough for both of them. She told him of her plans for the baby nursery, her excitement in finding out her friend Claire lived only a block away, and how much she loved the idea of raising their child on a street with so many young families.

Her eyes sparkled with youthful dreams and he wanted, with his entire soul, to make them come true.

It was a shame he’d already mortgaged his soul away.

–Copyright 2013, Genevieve Dewey.

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The Iron Writer Joseph Conrad Bracket. PLEASE VOTE! #ASMSG

Oh my goodness! I almost forgot!!!! My Iron Writer story “Land of the Dobieganger” is up at The Iron Writer Summer Solstice Challenge! I am in the Joseph Conrad bracket. Please follow the link and vote for your favorite story and NO it does NOT have to be mine! And while you’re there check out the other brackets and vote!

Conrad Bracket.

The Iron Writer 2013 Summer Open #ASMSG |

The 2013 Summer Open Iron Writer Challenge is almost here! And as the winner of my flash-fiction round I get to compete! Yippeee! Put a marker in your bookmarks or follow the Iron Writer blog to get updates.

Conversations at 30,000 Feet– A Downey Outtake #ASMSG |

I wrote the following this morning as a thank you to everyone that’s helped get the Facebook Page to 1500 likes!! THANK YOU! You guys are THE best fans in the universe! 🙂


Conversations at 30,000 Feet

(A Maeve Downey and Ginny Sommers missing moment from Second of All)

 by Genevieve Dewey

“Have you ever done something that seemed to be the practical sort of thing to do, and you did it thinking, no big deal, maybe it wasn’t a nice move but surely everyone would see it was not sinister. And when you did it, you were totally oblivious to the connotations it might have in another’s mind or the potential ramifications? And even after you did it, you’re thinking, what’s the big deal? And they’re thinking, deal breaker?”

Maeve Downey knit her brows together and tapped her index fingers without unlacing her hands. She tilted her head to look at her blonde row mate. Never in her nearly eighty decades on this planet had she ever met such a balled up bundle of energy and tamped down emotions before like this Agent Sommers. ’Cept, of course, when she looked in her own mirror.

“Well, tis my experience people often see sinister things when they go lookin’ for ’em,” Maeve answered.

“I don’t think he was looking for them, per se, but…” Ginny trailed off, frowned, scooted a bit in her seat then started twirling the tiny straw in her cocktail again at break-neck pace.

Maeve was of the opinion that the girl ought to try something a bit stronger than vodka and tonic. She would offer her something, but, was fairly certain that wouldn’t go over well, seein’ as the girl was a Federal Agent and all. Seemed to be one of those that actually took the job seriously, to boot.

“I just… and true, maybe I’m just tired, not at the top of my game, I mean, clearly not, here we are, aren’t we?” Ginny babbled on.

“Where? Thirty thousand feet above the Atlantic? Or were ye speaking more metaphorical like?” Maeve asked.

Truth be told, she too, was feeling too weary to keep up her usual level of banter. There was an irony to gaining exhaustion through helping one’s son retire from a game one was still playing. Children weren’t supposed to retire before their parents any more than they were supposed to die before their parents… but God never did play by human rules.

Agent Sommers’ school ring clacked as she slapped her hand flat on the snack tray. She drummed her finger tips a few quick times, took a deep breath, then seemed to calm a bit. A very small bit. She turned counter clockwise, pushing her elbow into the seat behind her to brace herself and stared Maeve down. She had that hardened female copper look in her eyes and her mouth turned down just slightly, so as to say, ‘I mean business’, yet not be off-putting. Maeve smiled. Ah, maybe she did have a round or two left in her. This was always Maeve’s favorite part of the dance, the rare occasions when law caught up on the race track enough to have a friendly chat with her. Pauli and Mickey had always hated it. Maybe that was the Downey in ’em—rapscallions all of ’em—but when they’d been caught, nothing but a bunch of red-eared little boys. Not Maeve. Chess had always been her favorite game. There was nothing more exhilarating than having a chat with someone who could actually keep up with her. ‘Twas a shame it happened so rarely.

Agent Sommers finished her examination of Maeve’s face and must have decided it wasn’t worth it because she drooped back against the seat and went back to staring out the window as she had while making her decision to carry on to Ireland instead of going after Tommy. A smart decision on her part, smarter than she knew.

“Isn’t there more than one St. Brigid’s well in Ireland? Why fly into Dublin when there must be one closer to Galway?”

Maeve chuckled. “That’s the tack your ship’s sailing? There aren’t always flights into Galway from the States. Call yourself an investigator?”

Ginny’s mouth pursed a bit in obvious amusement but she kept staring at the shut airplane window.

“Seemed better than asking Tommy’s grandmother if she thought he’d forgive me for handcuffing him to a bed. I like to ease into things.”

“Handcuff—oh ho!” Maeve chortled so loud people’s heads started to turn.

Ginny grinned at Maeve but her eyes still seemed haunted.

“I honestly thought it wasn’t that big a deal, I swear. I left the key, and his phone in reach. I just wanted a head start. I knew it’d make him mad, sure, but I was thinking mad enough to say ‘screw it, I’m staying home’, not…not…”

Maeve fought through her chuckles and reached in her purse for her flask. She picked up the girl’s plastic cup and poured her herb-infused alcohol in the cup. Agent Sommers stared at the cup with her mouth parted and her brows furrowed.

“Exactly how many people did you bribe to get that through?”

“Now don’t be gettin’ yer nickers in a twist, what’s the point as we’re halfway round the world already?”

“The point is, if you can get something through, a terrorist could—”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, lay it down, woman, and take a drink.”

The stunned look on Agent Sommers’ face was worth breaking her own rule against unnecessary cussing. And swearing was almost always unnecessary, in her opinion. Ginny laughed a bit and took a sip of the concoction. She let out a wheeze.

“Wow! What is in that?” Ginny squeaked out. She took her paper napkin and dabbed her eyes.

“Ah, just a few herbs. Just a garden variety tincture, no pun intended,” Maeve smiled. It was one of her ‘don’t mind me, I’m just a dotterin old lady’ smiles.

She was pleased to see the girl’s eyes narrow. Yes, this one had a sharp mind.

Ginny took another tiny sip. “Wormwood? And… is that anise? No… it’s…”

Maeve watched Ginny wipe her brow and blink her eyes, frowning intently into her cup. She set it on the tray with a shaking hand, and with a resigned sigh, turned her head back to Maeve.

“Dammit,” Ginny whispered sadly. Maeve patted her leg under the tray.

“You’re a good Agent. I just have a few decades on ye, that’s all,” Maeve said kindly, and she did mean it kindly. “Have a good rest now. Tommy’ll prob’ly forgive ye anything. He’s more like his father than he wants to admit.”

“I know…” Ginny replied in a breathy mumble, eyes drooping.

Maeve watched the girl finally succumb to sleep then leaned her own head against her chair and closed her eyes. She hoped the two would work their handcuff problem out. Seein’ as how they were about to have a lot more pressing problems than a lover’s quarrel.

–Copyright 2013, Genevieve Dewey All Rights Reserved.

Read an EXCLUSIVE never-before-seen Mickey and Mary Flashback! #ASMSG |

So I have been having a BLAST this week on the Blog Tour hosted by Literati Literature Lovers! How about you? Rosette asked me if I might write her a little bit of Retro Mickey & Mary and I tried really hard to keep it small. WHY?!?! I hear you asking. Well, don’t forget, Third Time’s The Charm is coming…and what not… Those of you who have finished Second of All may doubt this right now, but I love me some Happy Ever After, especially for so-called Star Crossed Lovers like Mary & Mickey.

Anyhooooo, let’s go back to the beginning shall we? Here is the flashback which Rosette named

Mickey Downey and his Mistress, the love of his life..

…quite a bit more swoon-worthy than my original title, which was non-existent. I think it’s quite possible I need more sleep.


Have a great Friday!

Edited to add… you know, I wrote this and made the shoes Louboutin (because they are my faves) without remembering that the first time one could in reality get Loubis was 1991, and this flashback was set 1986. Ah well. *shrug* It was also extremely unlikely an Irish gangster would have made it as high as Mickey did in La Cosa Nostra, and I knew that going in writing this series and I did it anyway, so, yeah, just go with it. Haha! PS-I Love you guys.

Curious about the Downeys? Just want a quick story? Have a look around! #ASMSG |

If it’s been a while since you’ve visited the site, you may not be aware of the short stories, flash fictions, and character bios I’ve put up on this site. So here’s a quick reference for where you can find these things.


On the Tab “More About the Downey Series” you will find:


  • Background on the Characters from the Downey series



On the Tab “Short Stories and More!” you will find:







PS—Let me know what you think! I love hearing from you! 🙂

Pin the Tale on the Writer #FlashFiction: “New Beginnings” #ASMSG |

Congratulations to Donna Harms for winning the Pin the Tale on the Writer Contest as part of the Pre-cover Reveal Celebration we are having waiting for the new cover for First, I Love You (Downey #1)! As you may recall all you had to do to enter the contest was be a Facebook, Twitter or Blog follower, OR tweet or post on Literati Literature Lovers’ page. Donna was picked randomly from 91 entries. As the winner she got to choose what I would write for her in a piece of flashfiction (usually 500-1000 words). She chose “when Tommy was young”. So, clocking in at 1170 words, is “New Beginnings”.


(A Flash fiction featuring a young Tommy Gates and Kyle Anderson from the Downey Series)

by Genevieve Dewey

Tommy’s favorite thing to do after school was cut through the park and play Hunt the Bad Guys in the baseball diamond. He’d walk straight to Aunt Claire’s house like he was supposed to, wait for his mother to call and check on him before she left for her other job, then sneak out while Claire watched her soap opera. Mama would freak if she knew he was wandering around alone—Omaha was by far the biggest town they had lived in so far—but the way Tommy saw it, he was only a couple weeks from turning ten. And once you hit the double digits, you were practically an adult.

He always began his game by sneaking behind the man-sized trunks of the cottonwood trees nearby and ambushing the bad guys that were after him and his mom with a gun he’d made out of wood and rubber bands. Then he would run a Coke bottle along the fence and imagine the chink-chink-chink was the sound of prison bars closing. There was weeping and teeth gnashing and the classic ‘I would’ve gotten away with it if it hadn’t been for him!’. The grand finish was pretending the snow-like seeds in the air were confetti celebrating his victory over the bad guys. He was never a cop or anything like that, though, in this game. Just a regular kid. That was why they were throwing the party, because he was a kid hero. And Mama would say, “That’s my little man!” and the kids would have to stop teasing him. In his mind, the bad guys often had the amalgamated faces of the boys who teased him. Ironically, it was the one constant in his life, other than Mama and Uncle Jack. Everywhere they lived, there were always bullies who taunted him about his run down, out-of-date clothes and having no family.

The best part was after Tommy’s victory over the bad guys, his father would come out of hiding—because he wasn’t really dead—and he’d bring with him a whole score of aunts and uncles and cousins and Tommy would have a big boisterous family like Aunt Claire had. Uncle Jack always joked that the Andersons had made an Olympic sport out of having children, so they did their part as Underwoods by not having any. Tommy reckoned he just said that to take Aunt Claire’s mind off the fact she couldn’t have her own kids. But Tommy figured there’d be nothing more fantastic than having a big family because it meant he’d never be alone. There’d always be someone he could count on wherever he went.

He was laying in the browning grass watching the fluffy white clouds glide behind the water tower when he heard the tell-tale crunch of leaves. He grabbed the rubber-band gun and rolled over like soldiers did in the movies. In front of him was a boy a few years older than Tommy in a Catholic school uniform. He had neatly combed brown hair and a big grin.

“Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. Aunt Claire told me to come look for you,” the cheerfully bored-looking boy said. Tommy always figured ‘cheerfully bored’ was the best way to describe that type of person that never seemed to mind having nothing to do. This kid was one of Aunt Claire’s many nephews and nieces that came to visit from time-to-time. Tommy couldn’t remember what his name was… something with a ‘K’.

“I’m Kyle, remember? From the picnic on Sunday?” Kyle said then flopped down on the ground next to Tommy, head on his crossed arms. Tommy stared in stunned silence for a moment then mirrored his body language.

“I’ll just pretend I found you in a bit, if that’s alright with you. I just gotta get away from Motor Mouth for a while.”

“Motor Mouth?” Tommy asked.

“My sister. She never shuts up. And I mean never,” Kyle said. “And she constantly follows me around. It’s the pits having a sister sometimes. And I got three of ’em.”

“What a pain,” Tommy said, but really, he figured it would be neat to have a pesky little sister.

“Saw you playing cops and robbers, but I figured you wouldn’t want me to bug you or anything. I’m going to be a cop when I grow up, I figure. Or a fire fighter.”

“I’m going to play professional hockey,” Tommy said. This was the nicest any kid had been to him in the four months they had lived here and he wondered how long it would last. He hoped this was one of those Anderson kids that lived nearby in Ashland. It really was hard to keep them all straight. It’d be nice to think he could finally have a friend, even if it was just a sometimes friend.


“Yeah, and I’m going to get rich and famous and buy my mom a mansion and a billion servants so she never has to work again.”

Kyle nodded his head a few times on his arms.

“Your mom’s the new choir director at St. Augustine’s, isn’t she? What’s your dad do?”

Tommy pressed his lips together and glared at the letters on the water tower until they merged a bit.

“He died. He was in the military,” Tommy finally said.

He had made that one up on the first day of school. He figured with Offutt Air Force base south of town people would buy it pretty easy. The truth was he had no idea how his dad died or what he had done for a living or even what his name was. Mama refused to talk about him. Tommy figured it had something to do with the bad guys that made them be on the run. He liked to imagine his dad had died a hero protecting them, like somebody in the military would. So that was going to be his story as long as they lived here.

“Oh. Sorry,” Kyle said softly after a minute. “That’s tough.”

Tommy shrugged.

“Kyyyyyyle,” a girlish voice called out.

“Ugh,” Kyle sighed as he got up from the ground. “Well, it was nice while it lasted. C’mon,” he held out a hand to help Tommy up. “Bet your mom’ll be by to pick you up soon anyway.”

“Yeah,” Tommy mumbled.

As they cut across the park towards the Underwood house Tommy felt a shiver cross his body. He stopped and looked over his shoulder. He scanned up and down the park but it was just kids and moms and parked cars. He figured he was just beginning to get as paranoid as Mama was so he shook it off with a laugh and jogged to catch up to Kyle and Motor Mouth. Tommy’s relief at Kyle’s welcoming smile and the idea he might have made a new friend had him on cloud nine all the way home. It also caused him to miss the Rolls Royce that pulled away from the curb and followed them there.

Copyright 2013 by Genevieve Dewey, All Rights Reserved.

My #FlashFiction “Waiting for Giraffe” is up at The Iron Writer!

Hey guys! In case you hadn’t heard yesterday, Iron Writer Challenge Four is up. You can read our four stories here:
http://theironwriter.com/the-stories/challenge-4/ Then please vote for which one you liked best! (No, it doesn’t have to be mine. 😉 )

Then, maybe have a poke around the website and consider joining us for the Iron Writer Challenge. It is TONS of fun and you don’t have to be an author or writer or a member of ASMSG to participate!




Bringing Spring in with a bang! #ASMSG |

Ok, so this Thursday (why does everything always seem to happen on a Thursday?) there are four things I’d like to share with you and none of them are the Spring Equinox. ;P

1) As previously posted I’ll be putting up a post in the morning with the cover of Milly Taiden’s newest romance Wolf Protector. YAY! Also, if you get a chance, pop on over to her website MillyTaiden.com and help her get her likes back that Facebook stole from her. I cherish each and every one of my meager 368 likes, I can only imagine how mad I’d be losing the numbers she had.

2) My little bit of Flash Fiction (500 words!) will go live at The Iron Writer challenge. I’ll remind you Thursday (meaning bug you) to please, pretty please, with sugar on top, go there and vote. You don’t have to vote for mine.

3) If you live near Cozad, NE I’ll be “teaching” a free class at 9:30, Noon, and 2:30 at the Cozad Development Corporation on using Social Media to help grow your business. Obviously, I am not an expert on that subject; I will just be sharing my experiences using Twitter, Facebook, Pinterest and so forth to engage with people. My aim is to make it seem less daunting to those who are completely new to it. And it really isn’t scary. It’s fun! Right? 😉

4) In the evening in Kearney, NE I’ll be having another author signing at Studio 3 Art Studio. Why at an art studio? My good friend and artist Pat Jones will be having an Open House there and we’d both love to have you trickle in and out and just hang with us from 7-9pm!

5) I am going to be making a new cover for First, I Love You. I’m already kicking around some ideas with some fabulous people, but I am thinking of making a poll so you, the readers, can weigh in as well. For instance, should the cover have something with Chicago on it like it did before? Something with a person (like Kiki’s silhouette)? The letters Mickey Downey wrote that the title is from? So forth…

6) I hope you have a fantastic week!