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The First Mrs. Winston
Honeymoon of Horror....
Connie Winston's honeymoon ended almost before it began. As her bridegroom carried her over the threshold of their cottage, the lights flashed on, and a welcoming party shouted congratulations. -- That was the first wrong note in a swelling crescendo of terror. During that confusing evening, Connie heard the first disquieting rumors about her husband. By late night, as he drunkenly tried to embrace her, Connie was wondering what had happened to the handsome, brilliant man she had married---and who was this stranger with hate in his eyes and the threat of death in his hands...
Connie Winston's honeymoon ended almost before it began. As her bridegroom carried her over the threshold of their cottage, the lights flashed on, and a welcoming party shouted congratulations. -- That was the first wrong note in a swelling crescendo of terror. During that confusing evening, Connie heard the first disquieting rumors about her husband. By late night, as he drunkenly tried to embrace her, Connie was wondering what had happened to the handsome, brilliant man she had married---and who was this stranger with hate in his eyes and the threat of death in his hands...
217 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1972
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Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews
April 6, 2026
Foley is a writer whose career spans decades, dozens of books, and several pseudonyms, but in this novel it’s painfully apparent that she was shoehorned into “gothic romantic suspense” by overzealous publishers. The First Mrs. Winston is not gothic, nor is it romantic suspense.
If you read the blurb on the back, you’d expect a tense psychological journey in which Connie wrestles with the fear and misgivings of having impulsively married a “violent stranger” after a whirlwind month-long romance. It’s a weird, fantastic premise. But Jack (typed as “John” several times in this edition--the editors were clearly working triple-time to cash in on the gothic boom) has his innocence telegraphed almost immediately. There’s very little doubt, as he sits safely in the small-town lock-up and Connie pines after him, that he’s being framed. What’s billed as a gothic romantic suspense novel quickly reveals itself to be a classic closed-circle whodunnit.
It’s frustrating that although Connie vows to exonerate her new husband, she doesn’t actually do much of the detective work. Instead, the “sleuth” role is taken up by two secondary characters (both men) who do all the heavy lifting in the background. This is the clearest proof that Foley’s true passion was classic murder-mystery storytelling, and that she was shunted into the gothic romantic suspense category as a mere formality.
The entire story is wrapped up neatly at the end, with relatively little interruption to the newlyweds’ honeymoon. And that’s the greatest indictment against the book. The demands of the “gothic romantic suspense” label force Foley to revive the on-pause honeymoon in the final chapter, striving to wrap up a novel that began on a cold, stark, eerie note with a stereotypical happily-ever-after.
Worse, the tonal shift exposes something deeply unpleasant about the characters. As Connie and Jack flirt and giggle about their future now that he’s been proven innocent, they casually reveal themselves to be shockingly callous. Neither of them actually likes Jack’s twelve-year-old daughter Glenda, and the moment Jack learns she isn’t biologically his, his paternal devotion evaporates. The little girl he spent half the novel desperate to “save” from her negligent mother? Suddenly, he no longer wants her. Instead, Connie and Jack end the novel planning all the biological children they’ll have together, while Connie half-heartedly convinces Jack to at least take care of Glenda out of pity.
It’s bizarre to watch two characters we were supposedly meant to root for talk about a neglected child as if she’s a stray puppy Connie found on the side of the road. A baffling ending, one I can only assume was enforced by the publisher. Perhaps that’s why Connie and Jack suddenly come across as so selfish and cruel: Foley resented the constraints of the genre and slipped in a snide, bitter in-joke right at the end.
If you read the blurb on the back, you’d expect a tense psychological journey in which Connie wrestles with the fear and misgivings of having impulsively married a “violent stranger” after a whirlwind month-long romance. It’s a weird, fantastic premise. But Jack (typed as “John” several times in this edition--the editors were clearly working triple-time to cash in on the gothic boom) has his innocence telegraphed almost immediately. There’s very little doubt, as he sits safely in the small-town lock-up and Connie pines after him, that he’s being framed. What’s billed as a gothic romantic suspense novel quickly reveals itself to be a classic closed-circle whodunnit.
It’s frustrating that although Connie vows to exonerate her new husband, she doesn’t actually do much of the detective work. Instead, the “sleuth” role is taken up by two secondary characters (both men) who do all the heavy lifting in the background. This is the clearest proof that Foley’s true passion was classic murder-mystery storytelling, and that she was shunted into the gothic romantic suspense category as a mere formality.
The entire story is wrapped up neatly at the end, with relatively little interruption to the newlyweds’ honeymoon. And that’s the greatest indictment against the book. The demands of the “gothic romantic suspense” label force Foley to revive the on-pause honeymoon in the final chapter, striving to wrap up a novel that began on a cold, stark, eerie note with a stereotypical happily-ever-after.
Worse, the tonal shift exposes something deeply unpleasant about the characters. As Connie and Jack flirt and giggle about their future now that he’s been proven innocent, they casually reveal themselves to be shockingly callous. Neither of them actually likes Jack’s twelve-year-old daughter Glenda, and the moment Jack learns she isn’t biologically his, his paternal devotion evaporates. The little girl he spent half the novel desperate to “save” from her negligent mother? Suddenly, he no longer wants her. Instead, Connie and Jack end the novel planning all the biological children they’ll have together, while Connie half-heartedly convinces Jack to at least take care of Glenda out of pity.
It’s bizarre to watch two characters we were supposedly meant to root for talk about a neglected child as if she’s a stray puppy Connie found on the side of the road. A baffling ending, one I can only assume was enforced by the publisher. Perhaps that’s why Connie and Jack suddenly come across as so selfish and cruel: Foley resented the constraints of the genre and slipped in a snide, bitter in-joke right at the end.
November 1, 2025
Oh, the messes we innocent girls from the West we get into when we come to the big city! He was such a big man, a handsome man, and my boss, so I had to look at him every day at the office. He was so nice and suddenly he loved me! He wanted to marry me on Christmas Day and take me to his cottage in the beautiful unspoiled upstate New York wilderness. I wasn’t going to say no, what innocent girl from the West would!?
But…but…but. I should have seen the signs. He drank sometimes, really awful. And it was a month from take a letter to have my children. So, I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when his first wife crashed the after wedding party. And demanded money. And proved to be the gorgeous glamorous tooth aching brunette sex pot I just wasn’t! I didn’t know there was a First Mrs Winston . I didn’t know there was a kid! What did I know really? Certainly not my husband.
So how am I supposed to solve the murder of this conniving blackmailing nymphomaniac. I’m not a sleuth. I’m just yet another perky woman in jeopardy, hoping to get my man out of jail and being able to avoid ending up a corpse! You should read my story and find out how I do it. I’m really smart and brave and my author tells a pretty good story!
But…but…but. I should have seen the signs. He drank sometimes, really awful. And it was a month from take a letter to have my children. So, I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when his first wife crashed the after wedding party. And demanded money. And proved to be the gorgeous glamorous tooth aching brunette sex pot I just wasn’t! I didn’t know there was a First Mrs Winston . I didn’t know there was a kid! What did I know really? Certainly not my husband.
So how am I supposed to solve the murder of this conniving blackmailing nymphomaniac. I’m not a sleuth. I’m just yet another perky woman in jeopardy, hoping to get my man out of jail and being able to avoid ending up a corpse! You should read my story and find out how I do it. I’m really smart and brave and my author tells a pretty good story!
March 27, 2021
I traveled to Salt Lake City, Utah to sing in the April LDS Conference with the Ricks College Choir. While there I bought this book. Rereading it, I am again reminded of my grandmother who was the 2nd wife after my grandfather's first wife died. One wonders how one measures up to the first but in this case when the man you have married is accused of a heinous crime, where should your loyalties lie?
August 18, 2017
Really great mysteries, with turns you didn't see coming!
August 20, 2022
Not engaging. Poor understanding of some of the technical parts, which were shallow anyway.
January 20, 2015
Was OK, though dated now.I read it mainly because it was clearly inspired by my little town (and neighborhood) where the author lived.
Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews