Julie Matern: Author
I write clean Regency Romance currently but I started out writing children's historical fiction. One day I'll get back to that.
I'm dipping my toe into the Cozy Mystery market too, using a pen name. Ann Sutton
A Bit About Julie Matern: Author
Whoever coined the phrase you cannot teach an old dog new tricks was wrong. Although I have dabbled with writing over the years, I really began my writing career at the age of 49.
I was born and raised in London, England and moved to the States as a young wife. I have embraced my new country wholeheartedly while keeping strong ties with England.
My first novel sprang from an incident in my grandmother's life. A stray bomb hit the house across the street in WWII, destroying the house and its residents. A few feet to the left and my grandmother, who was pregnant with my father at the time, would have been killed. I would not exist.
This story made an impression on me when I was 14 and became the genesis for my first novel.
To my surprise writing was a pleasure that added joy to an already happy life and so I have continued.
The Lucky Governess May 2020
Sophia Cavanaugh is destitute and alone. Charles Mortimer is rich and well-connected. When fate brings them together sparks fly but the course of true love rarely runs smooth and theirs is no exception. Fearful that her son will make an unwise choice of wife, his mother whisks the unsuitable Sophia away as a governess. However, all is not as it seems with Sophia’s employers and she turns to Charles for help, thrusting them together again. Can the strength of his love survive his mother’s disapproval and her threats to disinherit him? Is Sophia worth such sacrifice?
Excerpt from The Lucky Governess
After about two miles of walking, she stopped to rest her feet and arms. Lifting her face to the warm, sinking sun she offered up a silent prayer. In this pose she was startled by the sound of swift horse hooves approaching.
In alarm she flung open her eyes in time to see a young nobleman, straining on the reins of a shining black horse, whose feet reared up and paddled the air just in front of her. “What the devil?” he cried in fear. Sophia jumped back, hand to her chest, heart thundering as the hooves thudded to earth.
The young man leaned over the top of his mount to have a better look at the person he had almost trampled and on seeing that it was a young woman declared, “I am so terribly sorry! Please excuse me. I am unused to pedestrians on this path.”
When she had recovered herself, she looked up into warm, brown eyes filled with concern. The eyes were set in a round, ruddy face anchored by a rather prominent nose that was quivering with exertion as he pulled on the reins to soothe the horse. Coarse, black hair protruded from under his hat, framing his friendly features.
Smiling, she moved out of the center of the lane to let him pass by. He smiled back and though he was not traditionally handsome the smile lit up a kindly countenance.
“Are you traveling to the village, Miss -?” he inquired, his bushy eyebrows aloft in query.
“Yes, I am hoping to find some rooms there. How much further is the walk?”
“Barely a mile, but see, your bag is heavy. Please allow me to take it into the village for you.It is the least I can do.” He reached down a strong hand to take her case.
“But sir, you are headed in the opposite direction and I am quite able to carry it one more mile, though I thank you kindly for your offer.” She noticed that his gaze was fixed on her blond curls that bounced as she bobbed a curtsy. Rather than pass her he thrust his hand further forward.
“But I insist! You must have already walked some distance and it is a matter of mere moments for me to return to the village on my horse and then be on my way.”
His kindness was such a contrast to the surliness of the carriage driver that an unbidden lump rose in her throat and tears prickled her eyes.
He reached into his pocket and held out a crisp, white handkerchief. “It was certainly not my intention to upset you. You are obviously tired from your journey, please, won’t you let me help?”
She dabbed at her eyes with his handkerchief and finding that her voice had returned she managed to answer, “Oh no sir, though I do thank you for your kindness, but it is no trial to carry my own belongings this last part of my pilgrimage.”
She curtsied again and heaved up her bag, walking with ungraceful steps but a straight, proud back. She felt him watching her for a while and then heard him kick his horse, turn the beast around and continue on his way. As the sound of the hooves retreated she wondered if she had just rejected the answer to a prayer.
When I write regency romance I try to channel Jane Austen. I want to get into her mind and take my readers on a journey that she might take them on.
With children's historical fiction I want to enlarge their vocabularies and their minds.
With my Cozy Mysteries I endeavor to imitate Agatha Christie, whose writings made me an avid reader.
Eighteen-year-old Francesca Haversham is elite society's newest and most celebrated debutante, from one of England's most illustrious families. Her pedigree is impeccable - or is it?
A long-buried secret creeps ever closer to the light, one that has the power to destroy her comfortable life, tarnish her family's character, and ruin her hopes of a good marriage.
When a Nazi bomb explodes near his London school in 1941, Matthew Bennett's mother decides it is time to send her three children to live with her sister in the countryside, along with their dog and Matthew's best friend,Kate.
However, even in the safety of Dorset, intrigue and danger follow them.
Tag along as Matthew and his family adapt to life in the English countryside during WWII ad become entangled in their own battle.
Murder at Farrington Hall
The Honorable Lady Dorothea Dorchester has a nose for fashion and crime. When a murder takes place at a week-end away, she uses her powers of deduction to solve the case - much to the annoyance of Chief Inspector Blood of Scotland Yard.
I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading!