Reviews for The Married Mistress

The average rating for The Married Mistress based on 2 reviews is 3 stars.

Review # 1 was written on 2016-09-12 00:00:00 Michal Mccolm This is the dictionary definition of a meh read. There's nothing *wrong* with it. It's a second chance story where the heroine thinks the hero is cheating on her and only married her for some land she inherited. The hero believes the heroine when she told him she was bored after six months of marriage and didn't love him as much as he loved her, so he hasn't chased after her for six months. They meet again at the opening the story, which was the best part of the whole book. The opening: Heroine returns to the London house she and the hero own - and finds her platonic male friend in her bed with a woman. The hero is hiding in the shadows and overhears their conversation. He thinks the heroine is being betrayed by her new lover, but the heroine is disappointed in the OM for presuming on their friendship and bringing his cupcake into her bed. (OM was there to accept delivery on a freezer). From there - well - the H/h spend a lot of time almost having sex and almost telling each other the truth. The paparazzi (!) require them to hang out together as man and mistress (they married in secret). And I must say, this part made zero sense - why does anyone care about their relationship status? It's not like they're part of the latest Taylor Swift relationship. There's a trip to Paris, but no travelogue - they're in the hotel the whole time. So that cover photo is a bit misleading. Misunderstandings are cleared up in the last ten pages. The hero has a nice gesture with the land the heroine owned. HEA

Review # 2 was written on 2020-05-26 00:00:00 Jim Tranqs The title caught my fancy and so I started reading it. The opening seemed familiar and I realised that I had read this book a long time back. The opening is refreshingly different. Misunderstandings abound but the narrative doesn't drag. Some passages from the book which appeal. The Heroine's thoughts at the first kiss. Very well written. Very evocative. �The ability to act, along with any hope she had of even thinking straight, had evaporated swiftly in the heat of her instant reaction to him. Just his very closeness, to be held so tightly in the warm strength of his arms, crushed up against the hard wall of his chest, had been bad enough, depriving her of the control, the restraint that she had believed she�d acquired in her time apart from him. But the sensations sparked off by those kisses had made everything infinitely worse, buzzing round in her head, fizzing through her body, until she was incapable of thought.� The Hero's suggestion that they pretend to be lovers was quite humorous. �But there is one way that we could convince them.� �There is? And what�s that?� If he had offered his hand, Sarah felt that she would have snapped it off in her eagerness to know. �What do we do, Damon? How can we make sure?� His eyes narrowed as he looked into her face and his change of expression set warning bells sounding even before he spoke. �Well, it�s quite simple really�but I don�t think you�re going to like it.� �I don�t care if I like it�I�ll put up with it! It has to be worth it! What is it?� Damon sighed, raked one strong hand through his hair, frowning thoughtfully. Then he apparently came to a decision and leaned forward, black eyes holding hers mesmerically. �It�s quite simple,� he said. �We give them even more of what they want. We prove to them that you are my mistress.� It was the last thing she had expected. Almost the last thing she wanted to hear. �We�what?� she stumbled. �We� How do we do that?� �Easy.� He grinned at her again, but it was a strange, cold, unamused grin. �We just do one thing�we make it real' Another passage where Damon volunteers to tell the paparazzi the truth. �All right!� he said, cold and crisp. �I will.� He was almost out of the door before she found her tongue again. Something in that ruthlessly determined �I will� had set her teeth on edge, bringing with it a sensation of something icy cold and damp slithering slowly down her tautly held spine. She didn�t know what he was up to but she was suddenly very, very suspicious that she wasn�t going to like it. �Wait!� �Wh-what are you going to do?� His sigh was a masterpiece. A blend of impatience, irritation and exasperation. With perhaps a little bit of contempt at the stupidity of the question thrown in for good measure. �Exactly what you asked me to do. You wanted me to speak to them. That�s what I�m doing.� �But�but what are you going to say?� Another of those terrible scathing looks scoured a protective layer of skin from her face, leaving her feeling intensely raw and vulnerable. �Well, you don�t want me to lie and claim that you�re my mistress, so after the line we spun them this morning�and that kiss�I can see only one possible alternative.� �And what�s that?� �The truth.� �The�� Twice Sarah opened her mouth to say the word and both times her voice failed her, fading away to an embarrassing, breaking croak that said nothing at all. With an effort she swallowed hard and tried again. �The truth? What truth?� �Isn�t it obvious? I�m going to tell them that you�re my wife. That we married secretly a year ago. What else can I say?� The Hero's seemingly offhand promise. �How about this? If we go back to the original plan, let them think we�re lovers, then I promise that whenever we go out�whenever you have to face them�I�ll be right there, at your side, to see you through it. I�ll answer all the questions, make sure you�re harassed as little as possible. How does that sound?� These words of promise that Damon utters come to the Heroine's mind on two separate occasions. Repeated reading makes these words more touching. The scene of the newspaper photographs. Ooh. La..la..... �The two photographs covered the top half of the front page. They had both been taken only that morning, on the front doorstep of this very house. The first one was the kiss. The two of them tangled together, heads so close, arms around each other until it was impossible to tell where Damon ended and Sarah began. But the sensuality of the moment was there, sharply defined, unmistakable, raw and blatant in its power. Seeing it, Damon closed his eyes for a brief second, muttering in thick Greek under his breath. But then he had to look at the other photo. Himself and Sarah again. Of course. But this one was of the moment when he had pulled Sarah close to him and her head had fallen back against his arm. He knew that she had been in shock at what he had done�the way he had kissed her. That the ordeal of being the centre of forceful media attention for the first time in her life had drained her of her emotional strength, left her dazed and bewildered. But in the photograph it seemed as if she had eyes for no one but him. That she was looking up at him, with wide, stunned eyes, and an expression of total devotion on her face. And the way her body was pressed against his only underlined the blinding impact he seemed to have had on her. The black banner headline above the pictures said it all. �It Must Be Love!� it declared, a statement guaranteeing that no other possible interpretation would cross anyone�s mind. The first time the Heroine recollects the Promise. �And he had kept his promise to perfection. �I promise that whenever we go out,� he had said, �whenever you have to face them, I�ll be right there, at your side to see you through it.� Sarah couldn�t fault him on that. Even before he had opened the door he had held out his hand to her, the strong, square-tipped fingers looking totally dependable, a perfect support. And she had put her own hand into it, feeling the warmth of those fingers close around her, their power enclosing her, their size completely dwarfing the frail slenderness of hers. They had gone outside together, linked, sharing�a team. And Damon had been the stronger partner. Sarah had never had to speak once. Never had to do anything except be there with him, move when he moved, smile for the cameras in response to a gentle nudge from his elbow in her ribs. And when the crush had become too intense, when she had started to feel surrounded, trapped, and the panic had started to clutch at her stomach, seeming to tie knots in her throat, he had sensed that too. He hadn�t paused in his answer to a question, but an arm had come round her shoulder, warm and strong, drawing her close and into the protection of his lean body. There had been nowhere she could put her cheek but against his chest; nowhere her arms could have gone but round his waist. And when he�d moved forward, she had moved with him, steps in perfect unison, blinded by the camera flashes, but totally confident that he would get her to their car, and safety, and get her out of there. He�d done just that. He�d promised to be at her side, and he�d never left it.� The second time the Promise comes to the Heroine's mind. �He sensed her hesitation, the rising apprehension as the crowd of paparazzi surged forward and the pressure of his hold increased, his grip tightening. �Don�t say a word�just walk�� Whenever we go out, whenever you have to face them, I�ll be right there, at your side, to see you through it. And he was with her this time too. He drew her close, so that her face was against his chest, one hand protecting her from the intrusion of the cameras. The other arm around her waist guided her wavering footsteps forward and towards the car so that she didn�t have to see for herself, simply follow where he led.� Excerpt From: Walker, Kate. �The Married Mistress.� Harlequin, 2003. iBooks. This material may be protected by copyright.