My husband is dead. I attended his funeral. I watched his casket be lowered six feet into the ground. (Actually, it may have been only five feet, but that still seems like more than enough.) And then we ate an array of finger sandwiches and deviled eggs and miniature beef wellingtons that cost more than my first car. My point is, Grant is gone. And so are all his many, many deep, dark secrets which I never really ever bothered to ask him about. He is never coming back. So why do I still see his face everywhere I go? The Widow’s Husband’s Secret Lie is an utterly hilarious, gripping psychological thriller novella with a spine-chilling twist that will literally have you picking your jaw up off the floor and bringing it to the nearest hospital for major facial reconstructive surgery.
