Jennifer
Mueller
Sometimes the oddest things happen at the Rambler's
Inn. Take this weekend, for example. Mrs Rambler
went down to open the rear doors onto glorious sunshine, and
discovered a musical instrument sitting on the steps in
front of her.
Curiouser and curioser, she thought, leaning forward to
examine it. She managed to spy a small, folded sheet of
paper before she was grabbed around the hips by a rather too
wide-eyed and fluffy-tailed Randy.
"Cool!" He grinned, swinging her around in a
circle. "A kayamba! Haven't seen one of these
in years!"
And with that, he was off, shoving the sheet of paper into
Mrs. Rambler's hands before heading into the garden to make
beautiful music. Mrs. Rambler scowled after him, then
turned to the folded paper. "For the Rambler's
Inn," it read, "from Jennifer Mueller..."
If you have an alias or pen name, what is it?
Nope no pen name just me Jennifer
Mueller.
Tell us about yourself...
Right now I am a stay at Home mother to a
5 year old, but in a former life I was Peace Crops Volunteer in
Kenya, I've rafted the Nile, spent 5 weeks around Europe, and
worked in a ghost town for 2 summers. We just bought a 70-year-old
house so when I'm not writing most of my time is spent on
projects.
Anything special the readers should know about you?
I can speak some Kiswahili and Kimbeere
and I can cook githeri. I'm by no means fluent it didn't want to
stick on me I guess.
How long have you been writing?
I started my freshman year in college. So
it's been about 13 years now. I was reading a series and decided
it wasn't very good and I could do better. I had amassed a number
of stories before my husband asked why I never tried to get
published.
Where do you typically find your inspiration?
Everywhere: books, movies, TV, things my
daughter does, what ifs about my own life.
What genres do you write in?
I write in whatever genre the story
fits in. I write mainly historical, with some contemporary. My
one foray into paranormal was a time travel of course. Within
that historical context, I have mystery, romance, erotic, noir,
suspense, western, just about everything. My contemporary are
more scarce but I just had the first of a series accepted with
Triskelion a mystery suspense.
Who has influenced you in your writing?
Mystery writers mostly. I read them the
most. But a specific one I don't know that I can say
What books do you have out?
The list is 23 long. My website too has
all of them with excerpts, links, reviews, and all that stuff.
Titan Press - www.titanpress.net
Romance at Heart
Publishing - http://rahpubs.com
- An Arrangement
among Gentlemen
- All my Dreams
Digital Pulp
Publishing - www.dppstore.com
- The Wolf
Within
- Cooking
through the Ages
Linden Bay
Romance - www.lindenbayromance.com
- Egyptian
Nights
- History
Lessons
Venus Press - www.venuspress.com
- Behind the
Mask
- The Angel of
Bally Ferriter - coming soon
- Finest Island
in the World - coming soon
- Far From home
- coming soon
Midnight Showcase
- www.midnightshowcase.com
- Her father's
Daughter in Summer Heat 2 - coming soon
- The Mountain
Top - coming soon
Chippewa
Publishing - www.chippewapublishing.com
- Samburu Hills
- coming soon
Triskelion
Publishing - www.triskelionpublishing.com
Are you doing any signings or appearances soon?
I will be having a chat at FAR on June
22nd at 9 PM and then an all day event at Love Romances on July
21st
Do you have any advice for aspiring writers?
Write what you enjoy and have fun at it.
If you hit a snag you'll want to see how those characters end up
enough to get through it.
Do you have a website or a blog?
My
website is www.jennifermuellerbooks.com
and it has links to my blog and group and all that stuff.
If you’re into freebies, I have several free stories
and a free cookbook you can download.
Do you prefer fan mail/email?
I love hearing from fans. A link to email
is right there on my website or I have a guest book.
Other than being a writer, did you ever picture yourself
doing anything else?
I have a degree in forestry, most of a
degree in interior design I never finished and I went for a travel
agents certificate. So yes.
If you had time off to do whatever you like, what would you
do?
Travel.
Is there a favorite author you haven't met that you'd like
to?
I know this may sound odd but a guy named
Wilfred Thessinger, he was this explorer in the 40's and 50's I
believe. He spent years roaming around the Arabian desert, I just
expect he has hundreds of stories.
If you have a book coming out, would you like to share an
excerpt with us?
This
is part of Her Father’s daughter a story in the Summer Heat 2
digest coming in July from Midnight Showcase...
With
the Saxons still trying to keep the Normans out of England a
wounded Norman finds his way to Gwenhyfer's door only to find
that not all Saxons are enemies.
Night came and the heavy door swung open of its own accord.
Gwenhyfer spun around at the intrusion, her hand slipping to the
knife she kept hidden in her dress. Hell, she had forgotten to
bar the door after she returned with the deer! There, leaning
heavily on the doorframe stood a lone man wearing chain mail,
rich man's armor. His surcoat embroidered with Norman heraldry,
a wellborn man then, no common soldier. A damned Norman Count
stood at her door. His hair dripped water on the floor as his
head hung down, seeming too heavy for him to hold up any longer.
Just what she needed! He would lead them right to her. Damn
Saxons and Normans could not keep their fight among themselves
and leave her alone. Wulfgren stood too unprotected for her
likings
"Good wife, I promise I will not hurt you."
Gwenhyfer relaxed her stance giving a smile. No, he was no
threat, not in his state. "I promise you shall not either.
You look tired enough to fall over. Maybe after two or three
weeks rest I might have to worry."
"Might I get some lodging for the night? I can pay you
well."
Pay, he offered to pay her? Hell he must be in trouble to
offer payment to guarantee her keeping her tongue. "Sire,
it would not be good if you are found I take it?" His head
snapped up despite his fatigue, but his eyes were studying her,
unsure if he could trust her. She kept from smiling, if only he
knew.
"No, it would not be good. I would most likely be
killed."
She could guarantee they followed him the question was, how
closely. "Come inside. There's food on the table. I did not
expect anyone, so I hope it is enough for your appetite. Eat
while I put your horse away and lock up for the night."
Only one option, keep the man happy until she could get rid of
him. He slowly made his way to the table where he sat down
heavily. Taking the wooden charger he spooned what remained for
himself. Before Gwenhyfer went about her business she felt his
eyes on her, but this time not on her body. After so many looks,
she knew the difference. Turning to him she said, "yes,
Sire, it is Venison. Shall you punish me now or later for eating
your King's deer?"
He stared for a long time. They all looked at her like that.
"What shall I tell your husband when he returns?" He
finally asked ignoring her breach of the King's laws.
"I am not married." She pulled on her cloak to
venture into the wet night air.
"Your father then?"
"Dead these last three years." She left him without
another glance.
The Norman looked around the manor house for he'd found no
farmers' cottage. The room ran nearly sixty feet long and half
that wide, with a high vaulted ceiling. Several long tables
filled the bare space, and on the far end stood a massive stone
fireplace large enough for a man to stand in comfortably. There,
mounted above the fireplace, hung a large leather shield covered
with a coat of arms unfamiliar to him, a huge wolf rampant.
Underneath it a sword, he could not imagine a mortal man
carrying into battle, some six feet long. On one of the side
walls hung a tapestry embroidered around the outer edge with
Celtic, Welsh, and Viking designs. The center depicted the house
covered in ivy he sat in now. He ate his fill, but could not
keep his head up any longer no matter how much he wished to look
at the woman again and let it rest on the table.
****
When Gwenhyfer returned, the Norman slumped over the table.
"A tired one you must be," she said quietly as she
laid a blanket over him. He just looked so peaceful she could
almost forget the trouble she knew stalked him. She lived in
this house for three years without anything more than a very
infrequent guest to fill the nights. The monks at the abbey
would not welcome a single female among their cloistered walls,
even though many nights she rode at vespers to the fence that
surrounded them only to hear them sing. Men had enough trouble
gaining access for little more than a bed for the night.
After adding more wood to the fire to keep him warm, she went
about securing the shutters. Gwenhyfer sat and watched him
sleep. She could almost imagine her father alive and the house
filled with people. Not now, not anymore. Her hand hovered just
above his face before she carefully moved his hair. Without
warning, the knight fell to the floor. Surely not from her
touch, then she saw it, a deep gash in his side hidden among the
surcoat.
"Now that is not part of the plan."
