Second of All

#ASMSG #BYNR Nov > NEW BOOK RELEASE: Third Time’s The Charm (Downey #3)


THIRD TIME’S THE CHARM

The Downey Trilogy #3

Adult Contemporary Fiction: Family Drama/Romantic Suspense

ThirdTime

goodreads-badge-add-plus-8aed1006260a5092a7ebb2a64fe3968c

Once to Begin, Twice to Bind, and Third Time’s The Charm…

Of all the things Mickey Downey has accomplished in his life, successfully quitting his vices is the one thing he hasn’t been able to master. For the first time Mickey is free to have both Mary and Tommy in his life, yet he’s never been closer to being pulled back into the criminal world. While Tommy, Ginny and James work overtime to expose a nefarious plot threatening all of them, Kiki and Maeve Downey are hatching their own plots to make Mickey’s dreams come true. With shenanigans afoot in every aspect of Mickey’s life, he may be forced to pick up the weapons he promised Mary he would leave behind in order to protect his children. Can Mary finally accept he might never truly be free of it or will Mickey’s enemies once again succeed in tearing them apart?

  thCA82U60G thCACNXHNIthCA2WYIQ9 thCAHYUWN0 thCALCVTPI

~~~

It is necessary to read First, I Love You (Downey #1) and Second of All (Downey #2) prior to reading Third Time’s The Charm.

FILYversion413     SoACoverVersion513

And now, An EXCLUSIVE (never before seen) excerpt from Third Time’s The Charm:

When her gaze finally lifted to his, his face was blank. The only emotion vaguely present was resignation. The same little devil that had prompted her to invite him to supper with Jack and Claire on her last visit took over. She lifted her chin.

“I’ll stay with you. Ten minutes for every question you answer truthfully.”

“Why? So you can act outraged again and run away?”

“Run away?” Mary’s heart was running so fast in her chest her ribs actually ached. “I’m not running away. And I’ve a right to be upset with what you’ve told me.”

His eyebrows contracted faintly but he continued to stare at her blankly. She walked forward and grabbed the box from his hands. She knew it was his surprise at the action more than anything that had him letting loose.

“These are mine. You meant them for me. You might want to lie to yourself they were meant for you, but the lying to me stops today. Now,” Mary finished firmly.

She ignored the slightly outraged, stunned look on his face and marched towards the door.

“You want to know the truth, Mary?”

She turned back around at the marked anger in his voice. He had only rarely been angry with her. They had fought like cats and dogs that last year they were together but he had always fought with a detached sort of disdain and condescension, only rarely with anger.

He stood up slowly, his eyes burning, nostrils flaring.

“Well, here’s the truth, Mary, and don’t go crying because it’s not what you wanted to hear. I’m as sick of that as you are of the lies. The truth is I didn’t want to retire. Not the first time, not this last time, not ever. I moved mountains to try and be with you and Tommy and it didn’t work. Then I asked you what would work and did that, and all it’s done is put all of us at risk, and you’re still playing games. Tormenting me.”

“Tormenting you!”

“Yes, Goddamn it! Dates, conditions, games. Here’s some more truth, Mary. I hate being retired. I hate relying on Carlo and the fucking cops and I hate being good. I miss the rush of making money, being in charge, breaking the law. Is that enough truth for you? When will it be enough sacrifices for you? When are you going to sacrifice something for me?”

Mary thought maybe it was the trembling from her emotions but it took her several seconds to really grasp he’d said that. She continued to stand there for a full minute. How could he be so clueless?

“Sacrifice? Are you serious? I sacrificed my entire life to be your mistress. The first four years of our child’s life were spent living a lie. I sacrificed the joy of a family unit, I raised our son alone.”

“By choice.”

“I have been alone because I couldn’t risk anyone finding out who his father really was! I sacrificed my young and pretty years on the RUN! I sacrificed finding love and having a real family, having more children. Now I’m a dumpy middle aged woman with a grown man for a son. I just sold the home I worked myself to the bone to earn to move here! I sacrificed everything!”

~~~

  thCA82U60G thCACNXHNIthCA2WYIQ9 thCAHYUWN0 thCALCVTPI

entertowin

~~~

About the Author:

cropped-598443_223289541124998_101272130_n1.jpg

www.GenevieveDewey.com

(Get missing scenes and supplemental flash fiction!)

Twitter ~ Facebook ~ Goodreads ~ Pinterest ~ Google+ ~ YouTube ~ Amazon

Genevieve Dewey is the author of The Downey Trilogy and the Downey spinoff short romances featuring Katelyn & Dominic (The Bird Day Battalion and The V-Day Aversion). She is a wife, mother, sister, friend and Anthropologist. She is also an unapologetic lover of chocolate, bourbon, high heels, guns, and spending hours getting lost in research. Gen lives in Nebraska with her husband and three children. Her books include:

The Downey Trilogy

First, I Love You

Second of All

Third Time’s The Charm

Short Romances

The Bird Day Battalion (Free everywhere!)

The V-Day Aversion

Coming Soon

The Good Life ( A Dom & Kate Novel)

#ThirdTimesTheCharm #asmsg #Oct: Get a glimpse into how Mary and Mickey began…


Less than two weeks left until Third Time’s The Charm!

Get a glimpse into how Mickey and Mary began with this flash-fiction:

 

HER PRINCE

by Genevieve Dewey

Mary set the shoes back in the light brown box and started to place the lid on, but at the last second, set the lid back on the bed. Again.

Just one more time won’t hurt. Then I’ll give them back, she thought. Her stomach twirled from equal parts guilt and pleasure.

She pulled one pump back out of the little bag in the box and traced the high arc on the red bottom, breathing in that fabulous new shoe scent. She closed her eyes and replayed the look on Michael’s face when he had given them to her like one of those old film strips stuck on loop.

He had such amazing eyes. She had never seen such a vibrant shade of green and they left little to the imagination of his thoughts.

He’d said he wanted their third date to be extra special and he was going to take her someplace fancy. Or, at least, that’s what she thought he had said since she was too distracted at the time by his hands under her sweater. His warm, strong, rough, yet strangely gentle hands. She had never been particularly intelligent—nor stupid, either—but she could swear on a stack of Bibles she lost at least twenty IQ points around this man.

But now that some of the haze had worn off, it did seem a little… unusual for a gift. He claimed the high heels were castoffs from a client’s wife, but they had clearly never been worn. The box, too, was impeccable, and they were exactly her size. The shoes were–hands down–the most sinfully extravagant thing she had ever worn, much less been gifted with. And that was why she had to give them back tonight.

But not just yet, her mind whispered and she opened her eyes with a long sigh.

Mary slipped the shoes on and stood awkwardly in them. She grinned like a fool at herself in the full length mirror. She could almost imagine herself on a stage in a fabulous gown singing encore after encore. And there Michael would be, smiling and cheering the loudest…

Her right ankle started to wobble and she quickly sat back down on the bed. She wore heels all the time but nothing quite this high or delicately made. She slowly slipped them off again.

Nope, she thought, put them away and quit daydreaming all this poppycock and nonsense.

The phone ringing in her tiny apartment startled her and she dropped the shoe she was holding in the box like a kid who stole a cookie.

“Ninny,” Mary said out loud with a self-deprecating laugh.

She threw herself across the bed and grabbed the phone, hoping against all odds and good sense that it was her mother. She had been gone six months, surely they missed her?

“Please tell me you’re not bailing on choir practice again,” Claire Underwood said without preamble.

Mary let her chin drop to the bed. It shouldn’t still matter, but they were her parents, and she was all alone, except for Claire, and maybe…

“Claire? If a man gives you a pair of shoes after the third date, that’s… ok, right?”

Claire was silent for so long Mary was beginning to wonder if her phone had been disconnected. She had paid the bill this month, hadn’t she?

“Did you put out already?” Claire finally asked.

Mary rolled over and scrunched her nose.

“Well…”

“Oh my God! Are you serious?! Mary, this is Brooklyn, not Podunk, Massachusetts! What if this guy had AIDS or something?”

Mary rolled her eyes at the hysteria in Claire’s voice. True, Claire was a solid five years older than Mary, and married, but she had never shown any signs of being a prude.

“Claire, we’re in the twentieth century, not the middle ages. And aren’t you from Nebraska or something? Talk about middle of nowhere…”

“Mary, I’m just saying, you don’t know anything about this guy!”

“Well, I didn’t mean to sleep with him. Our first date we talked all night, and then the second, we went ice skating, and then when he picked me up for the third, well… we never actually made it out the door. Oh, Claire, he’s just got these hypnotizing sort of eyes…”

“Good Lord, stop, cheese alert! And why is this the first I’m hearing of him? We’re supposed to be best friends and yet you had two dates, sex, and a pair of shoes without telling me? Are they designer? No, wait, hold on, buzz me in.”

Mary sat up.

“What, you’re here?”

But all she got in response was the click of the entryway phone being hung up.

Mary put the phone back on its cradle, ran across the apartment—which really was a matter of steps—and slapped the button. She opened the door and waited for a breathless Claire to make it up the steps. Stupid Super (as Mary thought of him) had promised to fix the elevator since the first day she moved in six months ago. Everyone from here to Queens knew to just take the stairs.

Claire skidded to a stop in the doorway, grabbing the stitch in her side. She raised a hand and waved it wildly.

“Shoes,” she gasped. “Bring me the shoes.”

Mary laughed at the dramatic action and tone. She had always thought that Claire had missed her calling in the theatre.

She brought the shoes to Claire and opened the box with a flourish.

“Oh my saints alive! Louboutins!”

“Is that good?”

Claire squinted her eyes and examined the shoes like a judge in court.

“Are you sure they’re real?”

“Well, how would I know?”

“Mary, these shoes, if they’re real, cost more than a month’s rent!”

“Well, I gathered that much! They reeked of expensive. So does he, actually,” Mary finished with a wide grin.

“What’s his name? Spill!”

“What about practice?”

“Didn’t want to go anyway,” Claire replied and flopped on the grungy tweed couch.

She clutched her purse on her lap and practically panted like a dog at the shoes.

“His name is Michael… something.”

“Something?”

“Well he told me, but I forgot. Doorly or something. He’s some sort of finance guy for a shipping firm or something.”

Or something? You have sex with a guy and he gives you shoes after the third date and you don’t even know his last name?”

“Well, I didn’t grill him over it or anything. I have his business card somewhere. Who cares what his last name is?”

“Right, because you’re too busy sticking your tongue down his throat. Give me the Fabio scale.”

Mary giggled. It amazed her she had only known Claire for a few months but felt closer to her than her own sisters.

“Mmmnn, he’s more classically handsome. Distinguished…”

“You mean old?”

“No! I mean, I think he said he would be turning thirty this year, so only—”

“A good solid ten years older than you,” Claire interrupted, eyebrows lost in her brown curly bangs. She looked both scandalized and titillated.

Mary sat criss-cross on the other end of the couch.

“I’m going to give them back. He’s supposed to be picking me up for another date tonight and he wanted me to wear them. I’ll just wear those black suede ones you lent me instead. He won’t tell me where we’re going, just that it’s fancy.”

Claire opened her mouth but there was a knock on the door.

Mary jumped up and opened it, ignoring the ‘For Pete’s sake, look who it is first’ from Claire.

She gaped in stunned confusion at Michael standing there in that gorgeous, fur-lined, winter coat of his.

“How did you get in the building?” Mary asked.

“Ah, well, this building is actually owned by my employer. He owns quite a number of these rentals.”

“Oh,” she said weakly, staring at his handsome features and the hint of mystery in his smirk.

“Ehem.

“Oh! Um, this is my friend Claire. Claire, Michael.”

He nodded curtly and brushed past Mary into the room. Then he turned and dismissed Claire.

“Sorry I’m so early, I just wanted to do this in person.”

Mary’s stomach dropped to her toes. He wasn’t going to dump her, was he? Right in front of her friend?

“I’m afraid I have to cancel tonight,” he continued gravely. “Something’s… come up. But I hope you’ll keep my gift and allow me to reschedule?”

She felt slightly mesmerized by the intensity of his gaze and the soft lilt in his voice. His words were so formal but there was a slight Brooklyn-Irish accent to it. She couldn’t quite figure out if he was covering the streets with a veneer, or was a rich man trying to seem less posh. She didn’t much care, truth be told. She just liked the way he made her feel.

“Sure, that’s fine,” Mary managed to say after a moment. “Um, I actually forgot I was supposed to go to choir practice tonight with Claire anyway.”

“Ah,” he said and pivoted back toward Claire.

Claire was almost rudely staring at him with her eyebrows scrunched.

“And, what church?” Michael asked.

“Our Lady of Angels,” Mary answered for Claire since she was still gaping at him like a statue.

Michael seemed to start a bit then frowned and looked down at his leather shoes.

“Have we met? You seem… familiar… sort of…” Claire trailed off weakly.

Michael shrugged and dismissed her once more with his body.

“I don’t think so,” he replied while looking at Mary.

It was Mary’s turn to be taken aback because his eyes were no longer soft and expressive like she had been gushing over in her memories. Their emerald depths were now icy-cold and aloof, as was the rest of him.

He reached out with a gloved hand and ran the back of one finger along the side of her face.

“I’ll call you after I finish my errand. Enjoy your practice,” Michael said then leaned down and gave her a brief, chaste kiss. It still somehow managed to make her lips tingle and her toes curl.

Then he was out the door in a matter of seconds.

“He seems… intriguing,” Claire said after he shut the door behind himself. “And wow! The way he looks at you. Like there’s no one else in the room, literally. I doubt he could pick me out of a line up. They’d all be described as curvy nineteen year olds with milky-white skin and wild, curly red hair.”

Mary giggled so hard she snorted. She leaned up against the door, trying not to feel disappointed.

“Guess you get to keep the shoes a little longer,” Claire continued with a cheeky grin. “Which means, I get to wear them!”

Mary laughed. “Do you think you might’ve met him before?”

Claire shrugged without looking up from the tennis shoes she was taking off.

“I’m always seeing people come and go at the store. Probably just saw him buy groceries once.”

“Probably,” Mary replied faintly.

She ignored the stirrings of worry and focused on his kiss. Intriguing, yes… and also, young, rich, and gentlemanly. How often did one find that combination?

Maybe her Prince Charming had finally come.

 

–Copyright 2013, Genevieve Dewey

 

FILYversion413   SoACoverVersion513   ThirdTimePreReveal

Don’t forget to enter the Goodreads Giveaway:

thirdtimegoodreads

#ASMSG COVER REVEAL: Third Time’s The Charm (Downey 3) |#SEP #BYNR|


THIRD TIME’S THE CHARM

The Downey Trilogy #3

Adult Contemporary Fiction: Family Drama/Intrigue/Romance

Expected Release: October 31st, 2013

ThirdTime

goodreads-badge-add-plus-8aed1006260a5092a7ebb2a64fe3968c

Once to Begin, Twice to Bind, and Third Time’s The Charm…

Of all the things Mickey Downey has accomplished in his life, successfully quitting his vices is the one thing he hasn’t been able to master. For the first time Mickey is free to have both Mary and Tommy in his life but yet he’s never been closer to being pulled back into the criminal world. While Tommy, Ginny and James work overtime to expose a nefarious plot threatening all of them, Kiki and Maeve Downey are hatching their own plots to make Mickey’s dreams come true. With shenanigans afoot in every aspect of Mickey’s life, he may be forced to pick up the weapons he promised Mary he would leave behind in order to protect his children. Can Mary finally accept he might never truly be free of it or will Mickey’s enemies once again succeed in tearing them apart?

Excerpt:

Mary lifted her head and stared dully at his body lounging against the door frame, hands in his pockets, as usual. She was so permeated with emotion and memories and her eyes stung with that dry wetness of too many tears, she couldn’t bother to feel shame at being caught. She said the first thing on her mind.

“You—you never sent them,” Mary stopped and swallowed. “How come you never mailed them to me?”

Michael came and sat on the bed next to her. When the mattress dipped to accommodate him, her hip tilted into his and she put a hand out onto his thigh to brace herself. His left hand reached out and covered hers, tracing the faint wrinkles on her knuckles. His other hand reached across and gently took the box from her lap.

“I didn’t know where you were. But even if I had, I wouldn’t have. I couldn’t. They were never meant for you to see. I thought by writing them I could somehow exorcise you from my heart, get the memories out of my head.”

“But… After you found us and you started writing Tommy…”

“It was easier with him. There was no resentment and pain with the guilt, just love. We’re family. It was my duty as his father to make sure he knew his siblings at the very least. When I wrote to him it felt like a gift. With you…” his voice trailed off and she could tell by the tightness in his tone he was battling his emotions. “I knew after I saw you again, there would never be a day when I didn’t love you. And I no longer wanted to cut you out of my heart.”

She turned her head and looked into his eyes. They were bloodshot but otherwise dry.

“Oh, Michael,” Mary’s voice broke and his face blurred again from her tears. She wiped them impatiently. She moved her body so she could face him more directly. “Don’t you know how much I would have given to have known even half of this?”

His lips tightened and his gaze dropped to their hands.

“I thought you did know, Mary. I tried the best I could to show you what you meant to me. Words are cheap. I spent my days lyin’ to people. You know I’m damn good at it. I thought, with you, the words weren’t as important as showing you. When we were together in Brooklyn, you had all of me. All of the real me. The rest of the world had the smoke and mirrors.”

She reached up her hand and laid it flat against his chest. His heart was racing. He grabbed her hand and pressed it to his lips. She scooted closer and laid her head against his neck. She could feel the sinews of his muscles and bones and his breathing seemed labored.

“Spend the night with me. We’ve wasted so much time. You said you came for me. I’m tired of this dance, so tired,” Michael stopped. She lifted her head and watched him grit his teeth before he continued. “I’m done with it. Done with being a gentleman. We can go on as many dates as you like, but I’m not going to be under the same roof with you and not have you in my bed.”

goodreads-badge-add-plus-8aed1006260a5092a7ebb2a64fe3968c

~~~

It is necessary to read First, I Love You (Downey #1) and Second of All (Downey #2) prior to reading Third Time’s The Charm.

FILYversion413     SoACoverVersion513

~~~

About the Author:

cropped-598443_223289541124998_101272130_n1.jpg

www.GenevieveDewey.com

(Get missing scenes and supplemental flash fiction!)

Twitter ~ Facebook ~ Goodreads ~ Pinterest ~ Google+ ~ YouTube ~ Amazon

Genevieve Dewey is the author of The Downey Trilogy and the Downey spinoff short romances featuring Katelyn & Dominic (The Bird Day Battalion and The V-Day Aversion). She is a wife, mother, sister, friend and Anthropologist. She is also an unapologetic lover of chocolate, bourbon, high heels, guns, and spending hours getting lost in research. Gen lives in Nebraska with her husband and three children. Her books include:

The Downey Trilogy

First, I Love You

Second of All

Third Time’s The Charm

Short Romances

The Bird Day Battalion (Free everywhere!)

The V-Day Aversion

 

Countdown to Third Time’s The Charm: An excerpt from Second of All (Downey #2)


First, congratulations to Fran S. for winning the contest yesterday on my Facebook Page. She won a signed paperback of First, I Love You. I’ll be having more contests while we wait for Third time’s The Charm, so don’t worry if you didn’t have time!

Between now and then, let’s get back to reliving some fan-favorite moments from First, I Love You and Second of All. This one is going out to Caroline, another huge James and Kiki fan who tells me this is her favorite moment from Second of All:

She felt a fissure of awareness that made goose bumps on her skin and she somehow knew he had shifted his brooding gaze to her profile. She waited for him to say something, but the limo remained silent. She felt him shift ever so slightly towards her then the car began to slow.

“We’re here, Miss Downey,” Kevin said through the intercom.

“Thank you, Kevin,” Kiki answered, slipping her heels back on.

She glanced at James and saw he was frowning menacingly at his jacket across from him. It was both exciting and off putting at the same time. Exactly who was he mad at? Her? Her family? Poor Kevin? Ugh, she was so tired of worrying about everyone else’s feelings. When Kevin opened the door she got out and marched into the lobby without waiting for James. She pretended like he didn’t exist as they rode in the elevator to their sensibly priced room (as sensible as one could get at a five star luxury hotel – a hard won victory on her part over his stubborn pride). She could tell he was still sending her intense almost predatory looks, but if he wasn’t going to communicate, why should she?

Kiki heard the hotel door thunk closed behind them and the snick of the security bolt as she walked forward and started taking her heels off. She hadn’t made it but three steps in when James grabbed her arm and twirled her around. She looked into his eyes, startled, and gasped a little as he yanked her towards him, crushing his mouth to hers. She could taste the alcohol from his drinks on his lips and reflexively put her arms around him as he wrapped his arms around her, kissing her madly.

James hitched her up around his waist and pressed her up against the wall of the hotel room, one hand making its way under her dress and yanking her underpants down a bit. Her head felt sandwiched between the wall and his mouth, his tongue as demanding as his fingers on her pelvis. She dug her fingernails into his arms and wrapped her legs around him, trying to both get a better grip and a bit more freedom. Instead he pressed his torso even more against hers, and she could feel the gun from his holster against her side and the badge against his belt. He scooted her up a bit then dropped his grip on her waist, and undid his pants as her legs slowly listed down. She held onto his shoulders with her hands, and managed to gasp out between kisses,

“James!”

He ignored her and finished dropping his pants, then grabbed her legs back up around his waist. His mouth crushed against hers again, almost painfully in its possessiveness and his hands grabbed her hands and pressed them above her head against the wall.

–Copyright 2012, Genevieve Dewey

FILYversion413   SoACoverVersion513   ThirdTimePreReveal

Pull up a seat and I’ll tell you a story about a one-of-a-kind mobster… #ASMSG |


A few weeks back I read from Chapter Eight of First, I Love You–which is when James & Kiki first meet at her 21st birthday party in the Trump Tower, downtown Chicago. I know only a handful of you have had a chance to see it but those of you who have gave me the warm and gushies with your enthusiasm and praise. You know you only encourage me to do more when you do that, right? So, yeah, I did another for Second of All.

I didn’t open it to vote, I just picked a flashback because I didn’t want to spoil anything for those of you who haven’t finished First, I Love You AND because the Godfather II-esque flashbacks into Mickey Downey’s life are an integral part of Second of All. This reading is from Chapter Thirteen, “Ten Years Ago” and takes place in Omaha.

You can watch the video here, on my YouTube Channel or on my Goodreads Page

HER PRINCE (A Mary & Mickey Flashback)


HER PRINCE (A Mary & Mickey Flashback).

(A Flash-fiction featuring Mickey Downey, Mary Gates, and Claire Anderson Underwood from The Downey Series)

Author’s note: I wrote this flash fiction set in the late 80′s. Louboutin aficionados will know that a New Yorker couldn’t buy them before 1991.

Ah well, I hope you’ll ‘go with it’ anyway.

:)

FILYversion413   SoACoverVersion513

HER PRINCE

by Genevieve Dewey

Mary set the shoes back in the light brown box and started to place the lid on, but at the last second, set the lid back on the bed. Again.

Just one more time won’t hurt. Then I’ll give them back, she thought. Her stomach twirled from equal parts guilt and pleasure.

She pulled one pump back out of the little bag in the box and traced the high arc on the red bottom, breathing in that fabulous new shoe scent. She closed her eyes and replayed the look on Michael’s face when he had given them to her like one of those old film strips stuck on loop. He had such amazing eyes. She had never seen such a vibrant shade of green and they left little to the imagination of his thoughts. He’d said he wanted their third date to be extra special and he was going to take her someplace fancy. Or, at least, that’s what she thought he had said since she was too distracted at the time by his hands under her sweater. His warm, strong, rough, yet strangely gentle hands. She had never been particularly intelligent—nor stupid, either—but she could swear on a stack of Bibles she lost at least twenty IQ points around this man. But now that some of the haze had worn off, it did seem a little… unusual for a gift. He claimed the shoes were castoffs from a client’s wife but they had clearly never been worn, the box, too, was impeccable, and they were exactly her size. They were, hands down, the mostly sinfully extravagant thing she had ever worn, much less been gifted with. And that was, of course, why she had to give them back tonight.

But not just yet, her mind whispered and she opened her eyes with a long sigh.

Mary slipped the shoes on and stood awkwardly in them, grinning like a fool at herself in the full length mirror. She could almost imagine herself on a stage in a fabulous gown singing encore after encore. And there Michael would be, smiling and cheering the loudest… Her right ankle started to wobble and she quickly sat back down on the bed. She wore heels all the time but nothing quite this high or delicately made. She slowly slipped them off again.

Nope, she thought, put them away and quit daydreaming poppycock and nonsense.

The phone ringing in her tiny apartment startled her and she dropped the shoe she was holding in the box like a kid who stole a cookie.

“Ninny,” Mary said out loud with a self-deprecating laugh.

She threw herself across the bed and grabbed the phone, hoping against all odds and good sense that it was her mother. She had been gone six months, surely they missed her?

“Please tell me you’re not bailing on choir practice again,” Claire Underwood said without preamble.

Mary let her chin drop to the bed. It shouldn’t still matter, but they were her parents, and she was all alone, except for Claire, and maybe…

“Claire? If a man gives you a pair of shoes after the second date, that’s… ok, right?”

Claire was silent for so long Mary was beginning to wonder if her phone had been disconnected. She had paid the bill this month hadn’t she?

“Did you put out already?” Claire finally asked.

Mary rolled over and scrunched her nose.

“Well…”

“Oh my God! Are you serious?! Mary, this is New York City, not Podunk, Massachusetts! What if this guy had AIDS or something?”

Mary rolled her eyes at the hysteria in Claire’s voice. True, Claire was a solid five years older than Mary, and married, but she had never shown any signs of being a prude.

“Claire it’s the 80’s, not the middle ages. And aren’t you from Nebraska or something? Talk about middle of nowhere.”

“Mary, I’m just saying, you don’t know anything about this guy!”

“Well, I didn’t mean to sleep with him. Our first date we talked all night, and then the second date, it was just… the next thing you know… he’s just got these hypnotizing sort of eyes…”

“Oh, Lord, stop, cheese alert! And why is this the first I’m hearing of him? We’re supposed to be best friends and yet you had two dates, sex, and a pair of shoes without telling me? Are they designer? No, wait, hold on, buzz me in.”

Mary sat up.

“What, you’re here?”

But all she got in response was the click of the entryway phone being hung up.

Mary put the phone back on its cradle, ran across the apartment—which really was a matter of steps—and slapped the button. She opened the door and waited for a breathless Claire to make it up the steps. Stupid Super (as Mary thought of him) had promised to fix the elevator since the first day she moved in six months ago.

Claire stood there grabbing the stitch in her side and raised a hand, waving it wildly.

“Shoes,” she gasped. “Bring me the shoes.”

Mary laughed at the dramatic action and tone. Claire had missed her calling in the theatre. She brought the shoes to Claire and opened the box with a flourish.

“Oh my saints alive! Louboutins!”

“Is that good?”

Claire squinted her eyes and examined the shoes like a judge in court.

“Are you sure they’re real?”

“Well, how would I know?”

“Mary, these shoes, if they’re real, cost more than a month’s rent!”

“Well, I gathered that much! They reeked of expensive. So does he, actually,” Mary finished with a wide grin.

“What’s his name? Spill!”

“What about practice?”

“Didn’t want to go anyway,” Claire replied and flopped on the grungy tweed couch. She clutched her purse on her lap and practically panted like a dog at the shoes.

“His name is Michael… something.”

“Something?”

“Well he told me, but I forgot. Doorly or something. He’s some sort of finance guy for a shipping firm or something.”

Or something? You have sex with a guy and he gives you shoes on the second date and you don’t even know his last name?”

“Well, I didn’t grill him over it or anything. I have his business card somewhere. Who cares what his last name is?”

“Right, because you’re too busy sticking your tongue down his throat. Give me the Fabio scale.”

Mary giggled. It amazed her she had only known Claire for a few months but felt closer to her than her own sisters.

“Mmmnn, he’s more classically handsome. Distinguished…”

“You mean old?”

“No! I mean, I think he said he would be turning thirty this year so only—”

“A good solid ten years older than you,” Claire interrupted, eyebrows lost in her brown curly bangs. She looked both scandalized and titillated.

Mary sat criss-cross on the other end of the couch.

“I’m going to give them back. He’s supposed to be picking me up for another date tonight and he wanted me to wear them. I’ll just wear those black suede ones you lent me instead. He won’t tell me where we’re going, just that it’s fancy.”

Claire opened her mouth but there was a knock on the door. Mary jumped up and opened it, ignoring the ‘For Pete’s sake, look who it is first’. She gaped in stunned confusion at Michael standing there in that gorgeous fur-lined winter coat of his.

“How did you get in the building?”

“Ah, well, this building is actually owned by my employer. He owns quite a number of these rentals.”

“Oh,” she said weakly, staring at his handsome features and the hint of mystery in his smirk.

“Ehem.

“Oh! Um, this is my friend Claire. Claire, Michael.”

He nodded curtly and brushed past Mary into the room. He turned and dismissed Claire.

“Sorry I’m so early, I just wanted to do this in person.”

Mary’s stomach dropped to her toes. He wasn’t going to dump her, was he? Right in front of her friend?

“I’m afraid I have to cancel tonight,” he continued gravely. “Something’s… come up. But I hope you’ll keep my gift and allow me to reschedule?”

She felt slightly mesmerized by the intensity of his gaze and the soft lilt in his voice. His words were so formal but there was a slight Brooklyn-Irish accent to it. She couldn’t quite figure out if he was covering the streets with a veneer or was a rich man trying to seem less posh. She didn’t much care, truth be told. She just liked the way he made her feel.

“Sure, that’s fine,” Mary managed to say after a moment. “Um, I actually forgot I was supposed to go to choir practice tonight with Claire anyway.”

“Ah,” he said and pivoted back toward Claire. Claire was almost rudely staring at him with her eyebrows scrunched. “And, what church?”

“Our Lady of Angels,” Mary answered for Claire since she was still gaping at him like a statue.

Michael seemed to start a bit then frowned and looked down at his leather shoes.

“Have we met? You seem… familiar… sort of…” Claire trailed off weakly.

Michael shrugged and dismissed her once more with his body.

“I don’t think so,” he replied while looking at Mary. It was Mary’s turn to start a bit because his eyes were no longer soft and expressive like she had been gushing over in her memories. Their emerald depths were now icy cold and aloof, as was the rest of him. He reached out with a gloved hand and ran the back of one finger along the side of her face.

“I’ll call you after I finish this. Enjoy your practice,” Michael said then leaned down and gave her a brief, chaste kiss. It still somehow managed to make her lips tingle and her toes curl. Then he was out the door in a matter of seconds.

“He seems… intriguing,” Claire said after he shut the door behind himself. “And wow! The way he looks at you. Like there’s no one else in the room, literally. I doubt he could pick me out of a line up. They’d all be described as curvy nineteen year olds with milky white skin and wild, curly red hair.”

Mary giggled so hard she snorted. She leaned up against the door, trying not to feel disappointed.

“Guess you get to keep the shoes a little longer,” Claire continued with a cheeky grin. “Which means, I get to wear them!”

Mary laughed. “Do you think you might’ve met him before?”

Claire shrugged without looking up from the tennis shoes she was taking off.

“I’m always seeing people come and go at the store. Probably just saw him buy groceries once.”

“Probably,” Mary replied faintly. She ignored the stirrings of worry and focused on his kiss.

Intriguing, yes… and also, young, rich, and gentlemanly. How often did one find that combination?

Maybe her Prince Charming had finally come.

–Copyright 2013, Genevieve Dewey

It’s HERE! The new cover for Second of All (Downey #2)!! #ASMSG |


SoACoverVersion513

~~~~~~~

Isn’t it puuuurty?!

Yeah, I know, I said that about First, I Love You.

Remember, just like with First, I Love You, if you purchased it from Smashwords, Apple, or B&N you can get the new cover by simply downloading the book again to whatever device for free (delete the old one)!!!

(Supposedly, Amazon will do this for you as well if you ask them nicely. It’s kind of a pain, I know.)

Just like before, I got some postcards, magnets, and bookmarks to give away to my loyal fans:

SOAPostcardOutside

  SOAMagnet                    SOABookmark

In FACT, you could win a signed paperback with the above “swag” by entering the Rafflecopter drawing here or on Facebook!

🙂 Yay for giveaways!!! 🙂

Second of All is the second book in the Downey series, and you really need to read First, I Love You  first (no pun intended).

Back Blurb:

“…for there is nothing so perfect as a thing with no ending and no beginning such as a family of souls intertwined…”

This introspective sequel to First, I Love You takes you deeper into a tale of interwoven roles, divided loyalties, and personal conflicts.

Detective Tommy Gates and Agent Ginny Sommers struggle to balance their growing personal relationship with their task of finding his father. Back home, Kiki Downey and James Hoffman are facing their own internal and external pressures. After Mary Gates is led on a different trail by Mickey’s Irish kin, they are all given pieces of a puzzle that it will take the whole family to solve. Interlocked within the narrative are glimpses into how Mickey Downey became the man he is today.

Throughout their journeys, past and present, they all must struggle with what loyalties and loves come first, and what comes… second of all.

And an EXCLUSIVE excerpt:

Ginny stood a bit on her now bare tiptoes and rested her chin on his shoulder. Tommy turned his head to kiss her temple, his lips lingering and then moving whisper-soft towards her ear. She struggled to hold back the shudder of pleasure, selfishly enjoying the intimacy and romantic thrill of the moment.

“Thank you,” Tommy said softly.

“For what?” Ginny asked.

“For being my Ginny.”

She didn’t think about her resolution to not make any moves, she wasn’t thinking about anything but their complicated friendship and her own frustrated feelings as she pulled her hands free, moved to the side and then in front of him. She placed her hands on his upper arms and his hands moved to her hips. She looked him straight in the eyes and ignored the returning twinge of sympathy she felt at the obvious fatigue on his features and the thrill she felt from the look of sexual longing in his eyes.

“Tommy, you have to stop this. It’s killing me. You’re giving me mixed messages,” Ginny began, trying desperately to use her professional ‘put him in his place’ tone but it came out a bit plaintive for her tastes. He winced and closed his eyes.

“I know. I’m sorry,” Tommy said then opened his eyes again. “It’s just… you mean something to me, Gin, and I’m afraid if we take it to the next level – have sex – it will mess it up, our friendship. If it was anybody else, I’d take that chance, but you, you’re different than the rest. In just six months you’ve become… Hell, I can’t explain it.”

He let out a harsh breath and she expected him to remove his hands from her hips to run them through his hair but instead he only gripped them tighter. She floundered in confusion. Ginny wasn’t one to mince words, in fact she was often accused of using too many, but she had never been able to express herself properly around Tommy. She struggled with a thousand different tactics and persuasive arguments until her mind just seemed to jam from all the different permutations.

Kryptonite, indeed.

Author Bio:

Genevieve Dewey is the author of The Downey Trilogy (First, I Love You & Second of All) and the short stories Bird Day Battalion & V-Day Aversion. She is a wife, mother, sister, friend and Anthropologist. She was raised mostly in Nebraska, partly in Arizona. She has a Master’s in Anthropology and worked as an Applied Anthropologist for years (even ran her own research company for a while) before deciding to be a stay at home mom. She loves passionate (rational) debates, reading, and libraries… oh, and Chicago and high-heels and chocolate and target practice and gangster flicks and anything with the FBI in it and run-on sentences. She lives in Nebraska with her three brilliantly diabolical children and one incredibly funny husband.

You can find me online at:

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/GenevieveDewey

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/GenevieveDewey

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6441991.Genevieve_Dewey

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Genevieve-Dewey/e/B00936QL2S/

Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/genevievedewey/

Downey Trilogy Playlists


Some of you may have heard, I made a YouTube Page where I can log the songs that I’ve enjoyed listening to while I write or that remind me of certain characters. If I get a book trailer made it will be there too. 🙂 Here are the Playlists so far:

My First, I Love You Playlist:

 

 

My Second of All Playlist:

 

 

 

My Third Time’s The Charm Playlist (so far…):

 

REMINDER: First, I Love You & Second of All Giveaways ending SOON! #ASMSG |


You can enter the Goodreads giveaway  of First, I Love You until MAY 30th for a chance to win one of two copies along with a magnet, post card, and bookmark!

GRscreencapture

 

You can enter the Rafflecopter giveaway here or on Facebook until JUNE 3rd  to win a paperback of Second of All (4 runners up get an eBook of Second of All).

bandwmickey

Tropes and Themes and Take-Charge Women, oh my! #ASMSG |


I was thinking about tropes and themes this morning. I just finished re-reading The Great Gatsby, which I am sure quite  a number of you might have done as well… No? Just saw the movie? Oh well, doesn’t matter…

It was a pretty good book, not as great as I had remembered it, but it had my mind pleasantly engaged thinking about themes and language and stylistic maneuvers that might not be tolerated in today’s publishing world (he doesn’t even reveal Nick’s name until about 15 pages in! Modern editors just urped a little reading that…) But all of that was good because it allowed me to like it a lot more than I might have. I’ve recently come to terms with the fact I rarely like books written from the 1st person perspective. It make me feel like I’m getting gossip instead of a good yarn. The one notable case in which this sensation works to advantage is in the Stephanie Plum series. Love those… or at least the first dozen or so, I mean after a while I was all, “Piss or get off the pot”– Tommy Gates.

Speaking of which,  one of the reasons I really enjoyed writing Second of All was because you don’t often see a woman pursuing a man romantically. On the rare occasions I see it on TV or literature it is in an entirely different manner: she’s a stalker, criminal, whore (always written in a pathetic/broken fashion), out for revenge (usually encompasses the three previous elements) and she rarely ‘gets her man’. Almost punished in a way for making the first move, or the second. and the third.

I like how Ginny never gave up on Tommy, but other than maybe the *ehem* handcuff thing, for me, her persistence and patience was as romantic as a man pursuing a woman. Maybe it’s that romance, even as a multi-faceted genre, caters heavily towards women. And I supposed a lot of women like the trope of being swept off their feet. Maybe sweeping a man off his feet seems like…work. But I see it more from a Pretty Woman sort of aspect:

“And she rescues him right back…”

What do you think?