Samhain Publishing Ltd. Weblog

It's too Important

I’m a forty four year old woman who just had her first mammogram a month ago. I found something in my right breast and it scared me enough to get my butt moving. With the death of one of my dearest friends from breast cancer in March, this was nothing to fool around with.

Ladies! Meet Red Hot Alaskan Men

Sure the odds are good, but are the goods really odd? That’s the saying about Alaskan men. Find out in this funny, sexy romp about a woman who loves to make love happen for others, but forgets about herself.

Real Life Character

My life just turned a tad more interesting. I don’t write historical fiction, but I want to. What’s stopping me? Fear baby. That’s right, I’m a big-ole scardy cat, fur fluffed, claws extended, hanging on to the ceiling like some cartoon kitteh all shivery and shaky. Why? Cause those who read historical romance are sticklers for accuracy. How would I know? I read historical romance. Oh, I don’t go so far as to insist my characters in the Renaissance don’t bathe, I bathe, they should too. I don’t want romantic characters smelling like they don’t wipe their behinds properly. Talk about suspending my disbelief, ewww

Life’s Lemons

It’s been a hell of a year, so far and it’s just started. My friend, Mark fell to his death in December. We buried him as the year turned over. My age, forty-four, smart, funny, talented. Beyond talented. A photographer, friend who could tell the world a story in one click. A story I would take pages to write.

There's Power In Dem Dere Boobies!

My new-found abilities to amazing and impress, as a young woman, did not begin all at once. It didn’t hit me in a lightening strike, more of a subtle realization over time. One day I was jumping on a trampoline alone, the next five boys from my neighborhood were eagerly offering to spot me. I had no clue why. Let’s just say I was a bit dense, and leave it at that.

I was never popular in my school years, mostly from idiot mistakes of my own making. I grew up in a town where wealth and looks were everything. I was cute, don’t get me wrong, but not as cute as the other girls and I was far too willing to spout my thoughts and opinions, even when they were not held by others. I also was a tad clingy. Something that people who know me now have a hard time believing. I’m not in the least clingy now, except with my husband. He ignores it, so it’s all good.

Yep, I was clueless about boys, and why they suddenly took an interest in me and what they were interested in. I went along, as I always did, head in a book.

Until, that day. It was a Saturday. I remember that, because I was in Lake Michigan early, and I know I’d just started seventh grade. My best buddy, and neighbor, Dan, came down to the beach to hang out. We did that a lot, hung out. Together, we cooked up ways to piss off my bitchy, tattletale sister and build a better fort in the woods across the street from my house.

I surfaced, breathless from the fall-cooled water> Shaking like a large Lab, drops srpayed everywhere. I doused Dan for being a complete pansy and refusing to duck under the water.

“Quit it.” He held up his hands nin defense.

I laughed and jumped out of the water to splash him. It was then I noticed, his eyes were no longer glued on my face, but in the middle of my chest. I thought I was wearing a piece of algae or something worse, so I looked down. Nope, no gunk, just my burgeoning boobs. Tan from a summer of sunshine, my erect nipples poked through my modest swimsuit. I did not get it.
Shrugging it off, I resumed the camaraderie that I’d long shared with him and didn’t think much of it. A few days later I was talking to a fellow student, whose eyes were also glued to my chest.

Hmm, apparently these annoying things had the amazing ability to attract attention, a lot of it. About this time the infamous Farrah Faucet posters started going up in every male school locker. It was hard to not notice it, her nipples were visible. Male students drooled. I saw otherwise smart young men became gaping morons in the presence of a breast. I felt power, for the first time in my life.

I’ve never been someone who uses sex to get my way. It feels foreign to me. I’m not against, it. I just don’t do it well. I’ve never been a woman who collected jewelry for my sexual talents, or promises. Still, to not notice the effect of my rapidly morphing C cups, I would have to have been blind, or stupid and I’ve never been accused of being either.

My boobs could get me help in a pinch, a pencil picked up, a jammed locker opened. It was almost miraculous. These two mammeries, strapped to my front, over which I had no control, could be control themselves. Wow!

I mostly cover them, these days. Age and breastfeeding have taken their toll. Still, I trot them out on festive occasions. They are not completely without their charms. I can still shake it, if I want to.

Power, it’s a beautiful thing.

Lady Lillian is Out

My story, Lady Lillian’s Guide to Amazing Sex is out today! I love this story, it’s funny and sexy and something I’m very proud of.

What does a girl do when she catches her fiancé in her bed with a hooker? Start over-this time with her eyes wide open. Lisa Simpkins is newly single. Catching your fiancé being sodomized by a hooker can do that to a relationship. Unfortunately for Lisa, this mess put a huge kink in her carefully orchestrated life plan.

Good thing her best friend, Gina, can talk Lisa into anything, including a makeover complete with sex toys and a collection of highly erotic DVD’s. Gina’s determined to bring out Lisa’s inner wild woman. Even if that wild woman comes out kicking and screaming. Imagine Gina’s glee when they run into Matt Richards, the oh-so-hot junior partner who stars in Lisa’s torrid fantasies. The mission is clear. Get Matt to teach Lisa all about sex. Lisa’s not sure about Gina’s plan, but the man is gorgeous, smart and funny. Will Matt conquer Lisa’s fear of falling in love again, or will their tryst end when Matt teaches Lisa everything he knows?

I hope you love this story, as much as I do and sassy reading!

Nancy Lindquist
My Web Site

The Shame of it All

“What do you do, dear?”

The lady looked at me with a curious gaze, and some genuine interest. My husband rubbed my knee, our symbol of encouragement. He’s incredibly proud of his author wife.

Writing My Way to Myself

I’m adopted. Never a secret, I’ve known about my status as, “adopted child” for as long as I can remember. My parents were blasé about the whole thing. It was the way they grew their family and no big deal. The rest of the world did not see it that way.