Author Biography

USA Today bestselling author Mimi Matthews writes both historical nonfiction and award-winning proper Victorian romances. Her novels have received starred reviews in Library Journal, Publishers Weekly, and Kirkus, and her articles have been featured on the Victorian Web, the Journal of Victorian Culture, and in syndication at BUST Magazine. In her other life, Mimi is an attorney. She resides in California with her family, which includes a retired Andalusian dressage horse, a Sheltie, and two Siamese cats.

Review

"Mimi Matthews never disappoints, with richly drawn characters and couples whose individual shortcomings become strengths, when paired together. In this Beauty and the Beast retelling, we get to root for two underdogs who get to rewrite their own stories."—Jodi Picoult, #1 New York Times bestselling author of Wish You Were Here

"Shiveringly Gothic…Watching Julia blossom away from prying eyes is almost as satisfying as seeing Jasper Blunt pine for her from nearly the first page…For best effect, save this one for a windy night when trees scrape against the windowpanes."—New York Times Book Review

"The Belle of Belgrave Square is such tremendous good fun: a heroine with a big horse, an even bigger novel-reading habit, and a hidden anxiety; a hero with a crumbling estate, a trio of wary children, and a literary secret—what's not to love? Mimi Matthews paints Victorian England with vivid humor, and her Belles of London is set to go on for at least a few more much-anticipated installments. Julian Fellowes fans will rejoice!"—Kate Quinn, New York Times bestselling author of The Diamond Eye

"Mimi Matthews just doesn't miss. The Belle of Belgrave Square is exquisite; a romance that delivers the perfect balance of passion, tension, and tender moments."—Evie Dunmore, USA Today bestselling author 

"This story unfolds like a rose blooming, growing more and more beautiful as each delicate layer is revealed. A tender, luminous romance. I loved it more and more with every chapter!"—Caroline Linden, USA Today bestselling author

"Absolutely enthralling: an endearing, novel-reading heroine who's in dire danger; a swoon-worthy war hero with a scandalous past; and secrets, lots of secrets. Mimi Matthews's The Belle of Belgrave Square is a thrilling, emotion-packed read from start to finish. I loved it!"—Syrie James, USA Today bestselling author

"[C]ombines deception, risk, and a resourceful heroine to create an intoxicating, suspenseful romance. Highly recommended."—Library Journal (starred review)

"A grand cross-class romance, a twisty mystery, and emotional internal struggles combine to excellent effect…fans and new readers alike will root for this well-earned love story." Publishers Weekly (starred review)

Praise for The Siren of Sussex

"A rare treat to enjoy and savor. Highly recommended!"—Kate Pearce, New York Times bestselling author

"Unflinching, tender, and moving, the delicately crafted The Siren of Sussex might just be my favourite work from Mimi Matthews; it certainly is one of my favourite historical romance reads this year."—Evie Dunmore, USA Today bestselling author of Portrait of a Scotsman

"Lush, seductive, original—The Siren of Sussex drew me in from the first page, and wove its magic. A fresh, vibrant, brilliant Victorian romance, making it an unforgettable read."—Jane Porter, New York Times bestselling author

"A moving love story and a vivid recreation of Victorian life, The Siren of Sussex by Mimi Matthews is a treat of a book for the historical romance lover."—Anna Campbell, award-winning author

"Impeccably researched, brimming with passion and chemistry, and a loving tribute to Victorian fashion and horsemanship, The Siren of Sussex is a page-turning, powerful, and endearing love story about two people rising above the pressures of society to follow their hearts. A five-star fantastic read!"—Syrie James, USA Today bestselling author

Review Quote

Praise for The Siren of Sussex "A rare treat to enjoy and savor. Highly recommended!"--Kate Pearce, New York Times bestselling author "Unflinching, tender, and moving, the delicately crafted The Siren of Sussex might just be my favourite work from Mimi Matthews; it certainly is one of my favourite historical romance reads this year."--Evie Dunmore, USA Today bestselling author of Portrait of a Scotsman "Lush, seductive, original-- The Siren of Sussex drew me in from the first page, and wove its magic. A fresh, vibrant, brilliant Victorian romance, making it an unforgettable read."--Jane Porter, New York Times bestselling author "A moving love story and a vivid recreation of Victorian life, The Siren of Sussex by Mimi Matthews is a treat of a book for the historical romance lover."--Anna Campbell, award-winning author "Impeccably researched, brimming with passion and chemistry, and a loving tribute to Victorian fashion and horsemanship, The Siren of Sussex is a page-turning, powerful, and endearing love story about two people rising above the pressures of society to follow their hearts. A five-star fantastic read!"--Syrie James, USA Today bestselling author "A tender and swoonworthy interracial, cross-class romance in Victorian London...Readers will delight in this paean to women's fashion and horseback riding."-- Publishers Weekly , starred review "Matthews brings the Victorian era to vivid life with meticulouslyresearched details and an impossible romance made believable and memorable."-- Booklist , starred review "An exquisite historical romance that is so captivating I had to force myself not to gallop through it at a breakneck speed, wanting to savor the author's obvious care and delicate attention to detail...A must read for lovers of historical fiction."--Meg Tilly, author of The Runaway Heiress "Marvelously crafted, Evelyn and Ahmad's world is ripe with nuanced social perceptions and characters that winnow heart-deep. At times passionately intelligent and achingly vulnerable, The Siren of Sussex is destined to dazzle readers of Evie Dunmore and Harper St. George."--Rachel McMillan, author o f The London Restoration and The Mozart Code "Any reader who has ever loved horses, high fashion, and brooding protagonists will fall hard for The Siren of Sussex. "--Stephanie Barron, author of That Churchill Woman

Excerpt from Book

One London, England June 1862 Julia Wychwood was alone in Rotten Row, and that was exactly the way she liked it. Well, not quite alone. There was her groom, Luke Six. And there were some humbly clad men and women tarrying along the viewing rail. But otherwise . . . Yes. Alone. It was often the case at this time of morning-those early moments after break of dawn, when the air was misty cool and the rising sun was shining brightly to burn away the fog. Some ladies and gentlemen chose to ride at this time of day, but not many. Certainly not as many as during the fashionable hour. Then, all of society was out in force. Which was precisely why Julia preferred riding in the morning. There were fewer stares and whispers. Less judgment. With a squeeze of her leg, she urged Cossack into a canter. It was the big ebony gelding''s best gait-a steady, even stride, with a sway to it like a rocking chair. She relaxed into it. When cantering, Cossack required nothing more of her than that she maintain a light contact on the double reins. He did the rest, which left her ample time to daydream. Or to fret. She wasn''t only alone in Rotten Row. She was alone in London. Her three best friends were all out of town, with two of them not set to return until Sunday. That left four days for her to get through on her own. Four excruciating days, and on every one of them, an equally excruciating society event. Julia considered taking to her bed. She''d done it before to get out of attending a ball or a dinner. But she''d never done it for more than two days at a time. Even then, her parents insisted on summoning Dr. Cordingley-an odious man who always came with his lancet and bleeding bowl in hand. She shuddered to think of it. No. Faking an illness wouldn''t work this time. Maybe for one day, but not for all of them. Somehow, she was going to have to get through it. Cossack tossed his head at something in the distance. Julia''s gloved hands tightened reflexively on the reins. She squinted down the length of the Row at the rider coming toward them. "Easy," she murmured to Cossack. "It''s just another horse." An enormous horse. Bigger and blacker than Cossack himself. But it wasn''t the horse that made Julia tense in her sidesaddle. It was the gentleman astride him: a stern-faced, battle-scarred ex-military man. Captain Blunt, the Hero of the Crimea. Her mouth went dry as he approached. She was half-tempted to bolt. But there was no escaping him. She brought Cossack down to a trot and then to a walk. She''d met the captain once before. It had been at Lady Arundell''s spring ball. Viscount Ridgeway, a mutual acquaintance of theirs, had introduced him to Julia as a worthy partner. In other circumstances, the interaction might have been the veriest commonplace-a few polite words exchanged and a turn about the polished wood dance floor. Instead, Julia had gawped at Captain Blunt like a stricken nitwit. Her breath had stopped and her pulse had roared in her ears. Afraid she might faint, she''d fled the ballroom before the introduction had been completed, leaving Captain Blunt standing there, his granite-hewn features frozen in a mask of displeasure. It had been one of the most mortifying experiences of Julia''s life. And that was saying something. For a lady prone to panicking in company, mortifications were a daily occurrence. At the advanced age of two-and-twenty, she''d nearly grown accustomed to them. But even for her, the incident at Lady Arundell''s ball had marked a new low. No doubt Captain Blunt thought her actions had had something to do with his appearance. He was powerfully made. Tall, strong, and impossibly broad shouldered. Already a physically intimidating gentleman, he was made even more so by the scar on his face. The deep, gruesome slash bisected his right eyebrow and ran all the way down to his mouth, notching into the flesh of his lip. It gave the impression of a permanent sneer. Rather ironic that he was hailed as a hero. In looks, there seemed nothing heroic about him. Indeed, he appeared in every way a villain. "Miss Wychwood." He removed his beaver hat, inclining his head in a bow. His hair was a lustrous raven black. Cut short to his collar, it was complemented by a pair of similarly short sideburns edging the harsh lines of his jaw. "Good morning." She scarcely dared look him in the face. "Good morning." He didn''t reply. Not immediately. He was studying her. She could feel the weight of his stare. It set off a storm of butterflies in her stomach. Ride on, she wanted to say. Please, ride on. He didn''t ride on. He seemed intent on making her squirm. She suspected she knew why. She''d never apologized to him for her behavior at the ball. There''d been no opportunity. Perhaps he wanted her to suffer for embarrassing him? If that was the case, Julia was resigned to take her medicine. Heaven knew she deserved it. She forced herself to meet his gaze. The butterflies in her stomach threatened to revolt. Goodness. His eyes were the color of hoarfrost-a gray so cold and stark it sent an icy shiver tracing down the curve of her spine. Every feminine instinct within her rose up in warning. Run, it said. Flee. But this wasn''t Lady Arundell''s ballroom. This was Hyde Park. Here in the open air, mounted on Cossack, she wasn''t the same person she was at a ball or a dinner dance. For one thing, she wasn''t alone. She had a partner-and an imposing one, at that. Cossack lent her his strength and his stature. Made her feel nearly as formidable as he was. It''s why she was more confident on horseback. At least, she''d always been so before. "How do you do?" she asked. "Very well." His voice was deep and commanding, with a growl at the edge of it. A soldier''s voice. The kind that, when necessary, could be heard across a battlefield. "And yourself?" "I''m enjoying our spell of fine weather," she said. "It''s excellent for riding." He flicked a glance over her habit. Made of faded black wool, it did nothing to emphasize the contours of her figure. Rather the opposite. It obscured her shape, much as the net veil on her short-brimmed riding hat obscured her face. His black brows notched into a frown. She suppressed a flicker of self-consciousness. Her clothing wasn''t meant to attract attention. It was meant to render her invisible. But it hadn''t-not to him. The way he looked at her . . . Hades might have regarded Persephone thus before dragging her down to hell to be his unwilling bride. And everyone knew Captain Blunt was looking for a wife. If one believed the prevailing rumors, it was the sole reason he''d come to town. He was on the hunt for a vulnerable heiress he could spirit back to his isolated Yorkshire estate. An estate that was said to be haunted. "You ride often at this time of day?" he asked. "Whenever I can," she said. "Cossack is glad for the exercise." "You handle him well." Some of the tightness in her chest eased at the compliment. "It''s not difficult." She stroked Cossack''s neck. "He may look imposing, but he''s a lamb underneath. The biggest creatures often are in my experience." Captain Blunt''s own mount stamped his gigantic hooves as if in objection to her statement. She gave the great beast an interested look. He was built like a medieval warhorse, with a broad chest, heavy fetlocks, and a thickly waving mane and tail. "What do you call him?" "Quintus." "And is he-" "A brute through and through," Captain Blunt said. "Sometimes, Miss Wychwood, what you see is precisely what you get." Julia wondered if that was true in the captain''s own case. Could he really be as menacing as he appeared? She didn''t know to a certainty. All she knew was that, according to society gossip, he was positively dangerous-especially to marriageable young ladies. It didn''t excuse how she''d behaved toward him at the ball. She moistened her lips. "I believe I owe you an apology." He looked steadily back at her. "When Lord Ridgeway was introducing you to me at Lady Arundell''s ball . . ." She faltered. "Perhaps you don''t remember-" "I remember," he said gruffly. Heat rose in her cheeks. "Yes, well . . . I''m sorry to have run off like that. I''m afraid I''m not at my best when meeting strangers." "Do you often run off during introductions?" "Not generally, no. Not unless I fear I''m going to swoon." Her mouth ticked up at one corner in a rueful smile. "You wouldn''t have appreciated having to catch me." Something flickered behind his icy gaze. An emotion impossible to read. "You don''t know me very well, ma''am." Were it any other gentleman, Julia might have suspected him of flirting with her. But not Captain Blunt. His scarred countenance was as coldly serious as his tone. Her smile faded. "No, indeed." She tightened her fingers on the reins. "But I apologize all the same." She dipped her head to him as she urged Cossack on in the opposite direction. "Good day, Captain Blunt." He didn''t return her farewell. He didn''t say anything. He only sat there atop his horse, watching her ride away. Julia felt the burning i

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