I agreed to read and review Memoirs of a Widowed Mistress in conjunction with the Pump Up Your Book Virtual Book Tour, in large part because of the title and the cover art. Both are compelling and intriguing. The term “widowed mistress” jumps out at you, almost daring you to pick the book up and see who coined that phrase . . . and why. And the woman on the cover looks so distraught, so alone . . . I just had to hear her story and understand how the choices she made in her life brought her to the point of sitting alone on that step, holding those rapidly wilting roses.
Memoirs of a Widowed Mistress is frequently difficult to read, not only because the topic is one normally relegated to whispered dinner party conversation, screamed in tabloid headlines, or used by lawyers to extract large, quiet settlements. In America, we think of mistresses as women on one end of the spectrum or the other: They are either drug addicted madames like Heidi Fleiss or sparkling new trophy wives who suddenly begin showing up at the country club or in the carpool lane (in a much nicer vehicle than they used to drive). They seldom look like your sister, neighbor, coworker or best friend. They certainly don’t stare back at you from the bathroom mirror.