So without any further rambling, here is Sara Dobie Bauer talking about her novella, Wolf Among Sheep<\/em>, which is available from Hot Ink Press<\/a>!<\/p>\n by Sara Dobie Bauer<\/p>\n People ask me all the time about my \u201cwriting process,\u201d as if this is some great mystery that, when solved, will make me seem less crazy. They want to know if I outline, if I always know the ending, or (in the case of my new novella) how I make sex scenes sensual as opposed to awkward and gross.<\/p>\n Writing great sex is a whole other issue unto itself, but in regards to my \u201cprocess,\u201d I have one simple answer: character. I don\u2019t want to sound schizophrenic, but some mornings, I wake up with someone new in my head. This person, man or woman, demands I write them down, to which I always respond, \u201cWell. Where would you like to go?\u201d<\/p>\n In the case of a certain Mr. Avery Collins, he requested I send him to Charleston, South Carolina, in 1909. I could see him clearly. I could hear his dwindled Southern accent, mangled by time spent in New York. I could smell his cigarettes.<\/p>\n Even though Avery thought he was a man of the world, I knew he wasn\u2019t. I knew if I let him go to Charleston and meet Vonnie and Timothy Duke, things were going to get out of hand. I told him as much, but characters never listen.<\/p>\n My novella, Wolf Among Sheep, was born because, one morning, Avery Collins showed up in my head (and my bed, I guess) and said \u201cWRITE ME.\u201d Just released by Hot Ink Press, Wolf Among Sheep is darker than my usual fare. There are moments of levity\u2014and plenty of passion\u2014but more so, I ask the question: How far would you go to get exactly what you wanted?<\/p>\n The novella is now available from Amazon<\/a>. Read it, if you dare. Make friends with my darling Avery \u2026 but I wouldn\u2019t get too attached. You never know what can happen when lustful obsession rules the darkened alleys of the American south.<\/p>\n An excerpt: Wolf Among Sheep<\/strong> Timothy Duke opens the door. \u201cAvery. How good of you to come.\u201d<\/p>\n This is the first time I\u2019ve heard him speak. No accent, not really. More so a careful training of his mouth to sound posh: crisp consonants, tightened vowels. He has shaved his blond moustache since the party. He seems more alive, more alert. He doesn\u2019t wear a suffocating suit but, instead, a dark red robe over a white dress shirt and dark slacks. His feet are, strangely, bare.<\/p>\n I expect the quiet laughter and murmured conversation of a private party, but there is nothing but the crackle of wood in the massive fireplace before me \u2026 and silence. Everything about the suite is massive, really: the high ceilings, wide windows, plush furniture. I see, through a partially opened door, a canopy bed, swathed in decadent layers of cream-colored fabric. The bed is unmade.<\/p>\n \u201cDrink?\u201d he asks.<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s your pleasure?\u201d He puts his hand on my shoulder as he passes.<\/p>\n \u201cScotch.\u201d<\/p>\n Timothy smiles. \u201cVonnie guessed that about you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cVonnie?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cForgotten me already?\u201d<\/p>\n That voice of hers feels like ocean waves caressing naked feet. Now, her hand is on my shoulder, too, but she walks past me and reclines, shamelessly, across a couch the color of merlot. She\u2019s in a white silk robe and what I suspect is nothing more than her bedclothes. My ears feel warm.<\/p>\n Timothy hands me a double pour of scotch. \u201cSit,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n I don\u2019t want to sit. Feels too permanent. I look around the room. \u201cAm I early?\u201d<\/p>\n Veronique Duke\u2014Vonnie\u2014laughs. Her black hair is down, free around her shoulders. \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe invitation said small get together.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThis is small.\u201d She licks the edge of her mouth. Her husband hands her a glass of champagne and sits at her feet.<\/p>\n I take a long, long sip of scotch. \u201cMy editor will give you a feature story in the society column, if you\u2019d like. I can write about your coffee trade, Mr. Duke, and the new roasting techniques you\u2019ve brought to East Bay.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe thinks he\u2019s here for an interview, Timothy.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHmm.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy don\u2019t you sit down, Avery? Tell us about yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI am of no interest, Mrs. Duke.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, I think you\u2019re interesting,\u201d she says. \u201cAre you engaged, dear?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy is that funny?\u201d she asks. She runs her free hand through the front of her long hair and lets the rest of it fall in shining, mocha tresses over the arm of the couch.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m not \u2026\u201d My brow furrows as I look out through the open windows\u2014a perfect view of the nearby church steeple, the black sea beyond.<\/p>\n \u201cYou don\u2019t like talking about yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI write about other people, ma\u2019am.\u201d<\/p>\n Even though her light eyes are on me, her fingers play with the hair on the back of her husband\u2019s head. They both recline, so comfortable, unlike the upper class I\u2019ve met in Charleston. I can see why they are exotic, two characters out of Arabian Nights, lounging. I wait for a naked servant to arrive with grapes and palm fronds for fans.<\/p>\n \u201cWon\u2019t you sit, Avery?\u201d she says.<\/p>\n I finish my scotch. \u201cI feel I may have misconstrued your invitation, Mrs. Duke. I was under the impression I was here as a journalist.\u201d<\/p>\n She leans up and puts her feet on the carpet. \u201cWhy not be our guest?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI am not often the guest of people like you. Thank you for the scotch. If you\u2019ll excuse me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTimothy.\u201d She pouts, and her husband moves.<\/p>\n He is a coffee bean sales merchant, Timothy Duke, yet when he stands, he has the bearing of a street thug: tall and broad. If not for the careful haircut and clean teeth, he would have been an imposing figure in a dark alley. I take a step backwards, for some reason expecting to be struck.<\/p>\n Timothy puts his hands on the sides of my arms and whispers, \u201cStay. Vonnie, another scotch.\u201d He circles me. I feel his thumbs inside the collar of my suit jacket, and he begins to pull the fabric from my shoulders as his wife drifts to refill my glass. Along with her comes again the foreign floral scent of her perfume.<\/p>\n Timothy can\u2019t remove my jacket, not fully, as my left hand still holds an empty rocks glass, which Vonnie refills. Then, she leans so close I taste her sweet breath on my tongue.<\/p>\n \u201cHave you ever enjoyed the attentions of a man, Avery?\u201d she whispers.<\/p>\n A pair of soft, warm lips presses against the skin behind my ear: Timothy. I shudder and sidestep them both. I finish the scotch in one shot and shrug back into my suit jacket. \u201cI\u2019m sorry, I must \u2026 Thank you for the scotch.\u201d<\/p>\n I don\u2019t look back as I leave. I shut the door tightly and walk down a hall filled with gilded mirrors and watercolor representations of crashing waves. I wait for the elevator and only then realize my hands are curled into fists.<\/p>\n When Sara was talking on social media about her book, Wolf Among Sheep, I didn’t even wait for her to ask for people to help her signal boost it, I raised my hand and offered her a spot on this … Continue reading Wolf Among Sheep<\/h2>\n
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\n By Sara Dobie Bauer<\/strong><\/p>\n![\"Sara-Dobie-Bauer-Author\"](\"http:\/\/www.corividae.com\/shiny\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/02\/Sara-Dobie-Bauer-Author-1-200x300.jpg\")
Sara Dobie Bauer<\/a> is a writer, model, and mental health advocate with a creative writing degree from Ohio University. She spends most days at home in her pajamas as a book nerd and sex-pert for SheKnows.com. Her short story, \u201cDon\u2019t Ball the Boss,\u201d was nominated for the 2015 Pushcart Prize, inspired by her shameless crush on Benedict Cumberbatch. She lives with her hottie husband and two precious pups in Northeast Ohio, although she would really like to live in a Tim Burton film. She is the author of Life without Harry, Forever Dead, and Wolf Among Sheep. World Weaver Press will publish her novel, BITE SOMEBODY, this summer.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"