Shiloh Walker has offered up 5 copies of her February release Fragile to Bitchery members who can identify that smell. What smell?
Note the wafting vapor between the woman and the dude? I’ve decided that’s a smell of some sort. What is it? Identify that smell in the comments in the next 24 hours, and Shiloh and I will pick the 5 best entries (humorous, odorous, whatever).
Winners are humbly asked to post a review or their thoughts of the book on their own blogs, or to post them as a comment to the winner’s announcement tomorrow. So – bring it on. What’s that smell?
Ooooo-ooooo that smell! Can’t you smell that smell?! It’s the smell of Skynyrd, of course. Jack Daniels, stale cigarette smoke, mullet funk, five day old sweat, oiled snakeskin belts, giant polished belt buckles, and exotic reefer blend! (Thanks Sarah. I now have that song stuck in my head. :P)
I will now forever associate that cover with Skynyrd and Reefer Madness. LOL!!
Smells like the blood of a hundred lusty strangers. Yup, that’s it, alright…
Or glitter.
Why, it’s the smell of hot ass, of course!
I’ve been to downtown LA too many times in the last couple of years, and I know what that smell is.
It’s the smell of an alley, recently swept clean of refuse, but not so recent that there hasn’t been time to start a new urine marinade and distinguish the corner as the finest in the land for doggie deposits.
The mist is the exit fan from homeless shelter bathroom. It’s the 28th, and it’s shower day!
It’s the smell of danger. What other smell would surround a hot guy walking down an alley!
It’s the smell of his smokin’ hot body. Sizzle!
Smells like teen spirit….
(couldn’t help myself)
Well, if the smell could talk, it would say: Out of my ass, saving your life.
And, of course, it would smell like cinnamon buns.
Let’s see… he’s a romantic hero. He’s the last thing she wants, but exactly what she needs. And someone in the book is fragile—I’m going to guess it’s actually him; he’s the man tortured by all the darkness in his past, turning his back on beautiful redheads because they threaten to reawaken the lust he thought dead forever after his wife slipped on a crashed bottle of Gerber strained peas and slid out of the house, down the stairs, across the parking lot, and into the lake where she and the newborn infant she held were pecked to death by rabid ducks!
Not that the newborn was his, of course. His ex-wife was a whore. But he was going to do the honorable thing and raise the child as his own in hopes it would not inherit its mother’s tendency to collect venereal diseases like Pokemon. (Poor thing was already blind from syphilis.)
So what’s that smell? Dust, for he buries his pain in the archives of the local library, where he looks for some assurance that his duck-pecked not-child is safely in heaven. A hint of male musk; all that grieving gets in the way of daily showers, and with his manly, careless stubble it’s no wonder there’s no trace of aftershave. Warm salt from his tears. But all that is merely an undertone beneath the cloud of Britney Spears’ ‘Fantasy’ that follows him—the scent of his wife’s ghost, for she stalks him relentlessly, unable to rest until she gives him chlamydia one last time!
Really really fresh clothes!
Dryer fresh, laundered with Gain (have you seen those ads? obviously it smells heavenly, and I can say from personal experience than it makes me bury my nose in my bf’s tshirts every time I see him). And with really good dryer sheets. You know, expensive ones. Maybe if they had some with gold flecks in them, like a laundry equivalent of Goldschlagger.
You know that stuff would smell irresistably good. Nothing could smell better than a clean homeboy with enough money to fuck his dryer up with gold-flecked dryer sheets. Plus, he’d SPARKLE. In a non-Twilight sexy way.
Hmm, napalm in the (very early) morning?
White Castles for lunch meets White Castles for dinner!!
My security word: moved43
Man juice. MMMMmmmm, man juice. =)
I agree with PK the Bookeemonster
It smells like sulpher. It must be the devil because he can turn his torso backwards while walking towards her down the alley. Either that or it just smells like balls.
Jessa Slade said:
Aieeeeeeee!!! The perpetual fiance’s movie obsessions have followed me even to my safe haven of bitchery!
That being said, it *is* a great line.
Hot ass and Cheetos!!!!!
LMAO
Eau de Mantitty
Tobacco smoke. Pipe tobacco, or possibly cigar. He’s wreathed in a cloud of it—the really yummy stuff. Dark, manly, sexy—not at all like the taste, but you don’t have to talk about that.
It’s the smell of fear and fragility….after all, he’s a shadow and she’s a real girl, like Pinocchio wants to be.
Deidre
Anybody remember the old Pepe le Pew cartoons from Bugs Bunny?
Pepe: “Ah, ma cherie…! Why do you run from me, when all I want to do is shower you weeth keeses?”
Kitty: “Les puffs! Les pants!” (frantically hides)
It’s the smell of Blood.
When fresh and steel are one drying in the colour of the evening sun.
Lest we forget how fragile we are
How FRAGILE we are.
Or so says Sting.
Ack! You beat me to it!
She’s on a dark street in Hue in 1969, when she’s approached by Colonel Kilgore, fresh from a surfing assignment at a (recently) unpopulated beach at the mouth of the Nung River where the waves break just right. She knows that her “young Vietnamese boy” disguise has worked when he says to her, ““You smell that? Do you smell that? Napalm, son. Nothing else in the world smells like that. I love the smell of napalm in the morning.”
He exposes himself and offers “twenty dollah.” She gasps and exclaims fearfully, “Too beaucoup! Too beaucoup!”, and he sadly moves on, realizing that he’s walked into a different movie.
Why, its the arisen odor of hot, wet garbage stored in crusty pages of quality romance novels.
eau de city streets?
lame but it’s exactly what i thought when i saw it.
It’s the smell of sweat and fear of being attracted to some crazy stalker guy!
That has definitely got to be an alley in Chicago (where I live) and there are dumpsters with rotting food in them. So it’s a pretty awful smell. I don’t have a blog, so this will have to do.
Bom Chicka Wah Wah, she turns at the irresistable smell of Axe body Spray and is ready to jump on him.
Sometimes the last thing u want is exactly what u need…Beano! See how I played off the cover’s tag line to imply our heroine has IBS? Is that clever enough to win.
I scrolled way down with my eyes closed as not to see anyone else’s comment—- I say—“Looks like the underground people are having a BBQ again—smells like BBQ rats to me!!!
Its the smell of someone about to get their ass kicked. Doesn’t he understand that when she says she needs time alone she means it. He has to understand that she is leaving so she can have time to read this new book she found at the bookstore, you may have heard of it. Its called Fragile by Shiloh Walker. She loves Shiloh Walker and if he doesn’t go away she is gonna get really UGLY. No one interferes with her reading time not even one as sexy as he.
I think it smells like wet brick. That isn’t very creative, is it? How about:
Sex fog
Testosterone
Clean sweat evaporating from hot male skin
OMG! The attraction is immediate, the smell he is giving off has to be Chocolate covered Strawberries and those ass-ets are delicious! The haze or fog is her induced daze from all that yumminess!
Oh Please Pick mee!!!
Okay I agree the BK one should so get some…
The scent is easy… It’s the smell of paper books, ink on fingertips and coffee to keep you awake while you read through them all…
Because we all know you can’t stop at one book… Once you go book you never go back. 😀
*goes back to her coffee and books*
(haven’t read all previous posts so apologies if this is mentioned already)
Donuts. It’s the wee hours, the bakers are getting ready for the early morning commuter onslaught, he’s a cop, she’s trying to entrap him, so she’s stationed herself in the alley beside the donut store. He won’t be able to resist the smell and where he’ll momentarily be so olfactorily befuddled she’ll be on to him before he knows what’s up. Vanilla dip with sprinkles will do that to you.
Well, since this is a back alley I’m going to presume that smell is the mixture of hobo pee, college girl throw-up, rotten bar food, rank trash, and rat. When combined, this creates the smell of an incontinent stray cat suffering from bacterial vaginosis. Since this is a romance novel, when the heroes get closer they will notice over this smell, his personal scent of spicy male sweat and her soft scent of a woman.
Fabreze!
He tried Nicorette Gum. He tried the Patch. He finally gave up and started smoking the whole carton to beat the need for nicotine.
Now if we can only figure out if he’s coming….or going. 😀
It looks so like the fog in San Fran to me. I remember it as a cool salty mist that carried the scents of sea, fish and Chinatown. You know that scent. Hot peanut oil, spice and a sharp bitter tang of desperation.
French Quarter, New Orleans.
Which smells like beer, mostly, with a hint of old French colonialism, fake Gypsy fortune tellers, beignets, hansom cab donkey poo, vampires, gas lamps, oysters, middle-aged desperation, and, much later in the evening, a bit of vomit.
But mostly beer.
He smells like new clothes and old money, of course. Can’t you see his gentility rising from him in waves? What else could a woman want? Of course his exterior is rough-cut, but it’s merely a shell that disguises his inner nobility!