Greetings and Felicitations, Fellow Sufferers of Winter Depression!
The snow outside my window is about seven inches deep and Spring seems very far away, but this is when I do my best and darkest writing. Only last year at this time, I was writing about betrayal, lust, and murder in my recently released Gothic adventure, Just Like Gravity. If you are intrigued by the idea of reincarnation””if you enjoy a lusty romance””if you need a diversion from this endless winter””pick up a copy of Just Like Gravity HERE.
The set up:
Cover by Oghma Creative Media
How many times can you make the same mistake? How many lifetimes does it take to get it right? And how many people have to die in the process? In Scotland, Anna searches for answers. She finds cold rain, steep hills– and terror. Trapped in an eddy of Fate invariably ending in blood, Anna must break the chain and protect what she lost before. Her tealeaves and tarot cards lead her, but the weight of the past may be too heavy.
To whet your appetite:
Lights were on in the dovecot. Maybe he decided to stay there for the night. I skidded the Landrover to a stop beside the tiny building. The door was unlocked. I pushed it open, nearly falling into the warm room. The fire was banked and the lights were on. Lumber and other signs of the renovations spread across the floor. A glass of whiskey sat on an end table near the fire. I called his name, though the one room was obviously empty. Now what?
I looked out the window, hoping to see him in the fading light. Snow fell, and the wind had already pushed drifts around the building. Lights from Fiona’s house shone through the blowing snow. If he was there, he might be safe from Douglas MacGregor, but he was going to have to explain very carefully to me. And would he be. . . had he been safe from Fiona?
Pulling the door firmly shut, I started to Fiona’s house. Above me, I felt the broch, a brooding shadow. My eyes were drawn unwillingly to it. The ruined semicircle of rock loomed behind the swirling snow, but I caught a glimmer of firelight. Surely, he wouldn’t go up there.
Fiona answered my persistent banging on her door. She was dressed in some sort of sheer pink contraption and sipped what looked to be a martini. Warm, scented air hit me in the face. I could see the fire behind her and a table set for two. When she saw me, she laughed.
“I’m looking for Davy.” My coat was buttoned crossways, my wool cap pulled down over my ears, and whatever makeup I once wore had dissolved in blotches. My wellies were unbuckled and flopping on my feet, and my nose was probably running. I was too cold and too worried to notice.
“He’s not here, but he was. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.” She imbued her words with suggestion. “Come in, and I’ll tell you all about what he’s been whispering in my ear through these past few cold nights.”
Only with great effort did I stop myself from pulling her through the door and kicking the ever-loving shit out of her. Davy wasn’t there, I was sure. I didn’t see Lexie or little Rory, either. I was running out of ideas. I ignored her and my own desire to choke her with her own negligee and turned to go.
The light from the doorway shone in a bright square on the snow. I saw boot prints. Three sets. Leading up to the broch.
Who the Heck is Sorchia DuBois?
Sorchia Dubois writes paranormal romance and mysteries from her 
upstairs office overlooking a piney Ozarks woods. She holds an M.A. in English and taught English at high school and college levels. Currently, she edits manuscripts for Oghma Creative Media, a small publisher in Northwest Arkansas, when she isn’t writing her own stuff.
Her books delve into the riddles of life and the occult””Karma, reincarnation, psychic powers, mysticism, ancient cultures, and good old fashioned “ghosties and ghoulies and long-legged beasties and things that go bump in the night.” Separating the real from the imagined and the earthly from the unearthly are the challenges her characters face. But supernatural experiences aren’t the only scary things in her books. People manage to get themselves in the most terrible messes without any supernatural influence at all.
A proud member of the Ross clan, Sorchia incorporates all things Celtic (especially Scottish) into her works. She likes a good sip of scotch now and again and can often be found at Scottish events.
Her next book, Zoraida Grey and the Family Stones, will be released in September of 2015. Online, you can find her at SorchiaDuBois.com.
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