Third Time’s The Charm

A friendly reminder for my friends doing NaNoWriMo…


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Haha! Nothing like a dose of Jason Statham  to get you motivated, huh?

I’m busy writing on The Good Life, the Dom & Kate novel (which is actually just as much a Kyle Anderson novel).

By the way, not to sound too needy or anything, but feel free to rate/review Third Time’s The Charm wherever you bought it or at Goodreads! I adore all the tweets and inboxes I’m getting, but why not share those thoughts with others?

Don’t be shy, I appreciate you more than you can possibly know! 🙂

#Asmsg #Bynr Nov═►Want a chance to win a signed copy of Third Time’s The Charm?


The last week or so I have put a great deal of thought into how wonderful my fans are. And I’m not talking about my family and friends who happen to be fans of my writing, I’m talking about perfect strangers who take the time to tweet me, send inboxes, or write a review. It amazes me and fills me with deep gratitude.

SO, I have changed my Goodreads Giveaway of Third Time’s The Charm to include my Canadian and UK fans. Please click on the cover to be taken to the Giveaway and enter to win one of THREE signed paperbacks (while you’re there please add the book to your To Read list, or rate it if you’ve already read it!):

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(Click on the cover)

Ends November 15th!

As always, thank you for your support!

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


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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.

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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.

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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!

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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.

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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.

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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

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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!

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#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

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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?

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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.

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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!”

~~~

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About the Author:

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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: A Letter from a father to his baby daughter


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The following is a letter referenced in Third Time’s the Charm;

He let go of Kiki and fished a letter out of his pocket…

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Dear Princess,

I am writing you this letter on the occasion of your seven month birthday. Why seven, you ask? Seven is a lucky number and I want as much luck infused into this letter as I can get. It’s actually my third attempt. The first was a bit too combative I think, a failure on my part to acknowledge the inevitability of certain things. The second, I dwelt a bit too much on other things I’ve lost and which should never be your concern. And so here we are, third time’s the charm, as they say. 

I’m going to hold on to this letter until you are grown and ready to start your own family. Which I hope is long after my death. Just kidding. Today your mother wants to take you to Festa di San Gennaro which I think is a horrible idea because my mind spins with all the possible ways you could get hurt by the crowd or scared by all the noises and scents. When you have your own babies I think you will understand how consumed a parent can get with protecting their child, and that brings me to the point of this letter. I want you to know that I love you far beyond any earthly want or need and that as long as it is within my power–even if that power is only my two bare hands–I will do my best to protect you from harm.

The day I give you this letter, or have it given to you, will be the day you have found someone who will love and protect you as much as your father can. I do hope I will give you this letter someday because even at seven months old I can tell you deserve nothing less than everything your sweet, joyful heart desires. I truly believe you are a gift from a God who has no reason to give a man such as me anything. But I will cherish every moment with you until the day I give you away to another and then I will cherish the memories I have of you.

Please know, in this life and the next, I will always watch over you and love you.

Your loving father,

Mickey.

Read the rest of the letters here: Letters From Mickey Downey

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“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.

“Michael?”

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.

“Michael…”

“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.

Michael—”

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.

“Mary?”

“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?”

“Yes.”

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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Missed any Third Time’s The Charm quotes?


Missed any of the quotes I’ve been sharing on Facebook? Here is a collection of them so far as we countdown to the release of Third Time’s The Charm! And stay tuned for an exclusive, never before seen, Mickey & Mary flashback coming soon!

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Prologue

He opened his eyes and the sound of boyish laughter died in a ghostly echoing way, replaced by the terrible soul-searing sound of silence.

Chapter One

This guy… a handful of weeks into retirement and he’d already done a 180 and was acting like someone had stolen his favorite blankie from him – the same blankie he had just declared himself too old to snuggle with.

Chapter Two

James must have sent the flowers in a preemptive strike knowing he was going to be late. It was awfully sweet of him, she thought, and a cunning move. She really loved that about him. She couldn’t wait to show him how much tonight… whether he wanted it or not.

Chapter Three

“The first time, I ran away. The second time, you ran away. If they try it again, let’s just run away together.”

Chapter Four

“A man who doesn’t protect his family is nothing! Less than nothing. I’d rather be dead. You wanna do it your way, that’s fine, but I’ma do it my way.”

Chapter Five

Had he asked for twenty-four hours without any more surprises?
Hell, he’d like to make it a full hour.

Chapter Six

“One of the things I find most attractive about you is the massive sneaky streak you have.”
Kiki jumped and turned. She placed a hand to her racing heart and caught her breath at the huge grin on her fiancé’s face. She met it with one of her own.
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this, Agent Hoffman.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s my line,” he answered with a chuckle.

Chapter Seven

“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.

Chapter Eight

The logical part of Tommy’s brain understood that maybe she had only done it to protect him as child and not because she wasn’t willing to be with a mobster. But the child in him resented the lack of a father when he had needed him most. Now that he was an adult, watching them together made him feel like it was all for nothing—the loneliness, the fear, the lies, and resentment.

Chapter Nine

“She has a sweet, giving heart,” Downey said, leaning back in his leather office chair.
“I know.”
“Girl like that just attracts predators.”
“I’m not a predator, sir. I’m just a man who’s in love with your daughter.”

Chapter Ten

“And you better start praying, amico, that she’s in pristine condition when we find her or I’m not gonna stop cleanin’ ’til a whore’s hooch shines, capiche?”

Chapter Eleven

Just one word, infused with naked desperation; half prayer, half enchantment. It felt like a freezing charm on her soul making her his prisoner, yet setting her free all at once. She had always felt that way with him, like a butterfly in a zoo exhibit, permitted to flutter about and live its life without restraint yet never truly free.

Chapter Twelve

Tommy flipped the watch over.
“‘Famiglia’… That’s it?”
“That’s everything.”

Chapter Thirteen

“Ye claim to love my son but ye sure as shite don’t understand him if ye don’t understand why he stayed away. Yer the one who left, ye daft woman! Wit’out even tellin’ him why or givin’ him a choice. Of course he’d be waitin’ fer ye to make the next move. That’s how the game of chess is played. At least he gave ye the respect of makin’ the choice to not choose.”

#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

 

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Don’t forget to enter the Goodreads Giveaway:

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An excerpt from First, I Love You (Downey #1) |#asmsg #bynr #Oct #amreading|


Getting impatient for Third Time’s The Charm (The Downey Trilogy #3)?

While we wait for October 31st, I’m reliving some fan-favorite moments from First, I Love You and Second of All. This one from First, I Love You is the spark that started the “maelstrom of unexpected consequences” in the book’s description, ie, when James and Kiki first meet.

neck kisses

“Kicks?” James asked.

“Tommy’s nickname for me. Because I love shoes so much,” she answered with a bite to her tone and a challenge in her face.

Oh, did the little kitten want to play? James thought.

He stepped right in front of her.

“You know, it occurs to me, Katherine, we could be quite useful to each other,” he said, smiling his most ingratiating smile and scanning her head to toe.

Hell, if a woman was going to go out of her way to wear so little, a man might as well enjoy the show, right?

James heard a throat clearing and remembered Ginny was still standing next to them. He turned his gaze from Kiki’s narrowed eyes to raise a questioning eyebrow at his colleague. She looked somewhere between flabbergasted and offended. On whose behalf? James wondered.

“Yes, Agent Sommers?” James asked, as polite as he could muster.

He still hadn’t gotten over her crashing the party on his own home field. True, he was also crashing the party, but again, this was his territory and she was supposed to be back in DC, not sweet-talking Detective Gates into a date. He had clearly underestimated her ambitiousness.

“You were going to show me the restroom, Kiki,” Ginny said pointedly.

Kiki was clearly flustered and unsure. She kept twirling a lock of her curly dark-brown hair and darting glances around the room. James wanted to press his advantage and didn’t appreciate Ginny blocking him, especially since they had made a pretty good tag team just days before. He needed to convince Tommy to get Downey on board or at least to use his connection to gather information, and Kiki was another way to accomplish this, maybe even an entirely different route in. But here was Agent Sommers trying to nip that in the bud. Was this a gender solidarity thing or did she think it was a dead end?

He shrugged his shoulders and walked around Kiki, deliberately stopping right behind her and leaning down so his head was next to her ear.

“It was nice meeting you, Katherine, but I don’t want to miss out on the next Act of this little family drama you created,” he said, smiling with satisfaction when she shivered a bit.

Her hair smelled like piña coladas, and he was surprised she didn’t wear any perfume…

–Copyright 2012, Genevieve Dewey.

 

ICYMI: The Kindle version of First, I Love You is currently ON SALE at Amazon for $.99 (Sale Ends October 7th)!!

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A Letter from Mickey Downey, Part Nine.


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The following is a letter referenced in Third Time’s the Charm;

He let go of Kiki and fished a letter out of his pocket…

~~~

Dear Princess,

I am writing you this letter on the occasion of your seven month birthday. Why seven, you ask? Seven is a lucky number and I want as much luck infused into this letter as I can get. It’s actually my third attempt. The first was a bit too combative I think, a failure on my part to acknowledge the inevitability of certain things. The second, I dwelt a bit too much on other things I’ve lost and which should never be your concern. And so here we are, third time’s the charm, as they say. 

I’m going to hold on to this letter until you are grown and ready to start your own family. Which I hope is long after my death. Just kidding. Today your mother wants to take you to Festa di San Gennaro which I think is a horrible idea because my mind spins with all the possible ways you could get hurt by the crowd or scared by all the noises and scents. When you have your own babies I think you will understand how consumed a parent can get with protecting their child, and that brings me to the point of this letter. I want you to know that I love you far beyond any earthly want or need and that as long as it is within my power–even if that power is only my two bare hands–I will do my best to protect you from harm.

The day I give you this letter, or have it given to you, will be the day you have found someone who will love and protect you as much as your father can. I do hope I will give you this letter someday because even at seven months old I can tell you deserve nothing less than everything your sweet, joyful heart desires. I truly believe you are a gift from a God who has no reason to give a man such as me anything. But I will cherish every moment with you until the day I give you away to another and then I will cherish the memories I have of you.

Please know, in this life and the next, I will always watch over you and love you.

Your loving father,

Mickey.

Read the rest of the letters here: Letters From Mickey Downey

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