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?
Hmmm… His torso is longer than his legs, and his torso is backwards… but other than that, a great cover.
Oduer: Boston wharf district in heavy fog…
It’s smoke from the barrel fires on homeless alley were the destitute are having a Saturday night ratBQ. Which intersects with hooker corner where price is negotiated by rearranging ones pants. Notice how she has agreed to the negotiations by tugging on her belt loop and yanking her pants down in the front and he is now ready to complete the transaction and has begun to drop trou by unzipping the handy-dandy side zipper on his dungarees?
Its the smell from the his/hers perfume factory they’re staking out…Eau de Old Spice and Eau de Toilet….striking isn’t it? She’s double checking to make sure her the hero isn’t checking himself.
He walked a long, loooong time to find her, which is why he looks so..disfigured. And the smell, of course, is the smell of his unwashed feet in his sweaty socks full of holes!
Clearly, it’s eau de “smokin’ man meat”
I have noticed a certain rule in romance: all odors have to be comprised of three ingredients, of which one, at minimum, is completely nonsensical—like sunshine, or bliss.
So, “Insert hero’s name here smelled of steely determination, hot man, and a boat-load of trouble.”
Now that you’ve pointed that out, I’ve identified the odor. It’s chlorine from the pool, as Michael Phelps approaches to give her 8 gold-medal laps.
She nuzzled his neck; it was hot and pulsey like a neck with a pulse in it. Her gaze stole downward, into the deep V of his flannel shirt with the arms cut off with scissors. What is that smell? Was it man smell, like the musk of a burly, sweaty lumberjack who wears flannel with the arms cut off with scissors? Or was it the scent of his lust, ill-concealed by his jean short shorts? No, no. It was mantitty. The smell of mantitty allured her like no other. It was chocolate and frost-bitten Aspen mornings and Lubriderm all rolled together on a hairy chest. Mmmm. This might be the best month she ever spent at an Alpaca farm.
Thats not a smell, it is smoke, hot smoke coming from the hero (because he is smoking hot)
ah ah
I think I am better off to bed. 😀
That’s so true, now that you mention it. How does one smell like mischief, or trouble, or anything. I love it. 🙂
I also agree, now that it was pointed out, that his top half is completely backwards. Creepy.
Spam word: result82. After 82 tries of trying to win stuff from the Bitchery, will the result finally be a win with the BK smell? -fingers crossed- Glad you guys liked it.
Thanks to all of the input from the this name-that-smell contest and the creepiness of gmail scans for advertising,
”>this is what Google now suggest for things I might be into.
I’m SO grateful I can now remove the dog vomit my home and closets and wear my dickies with out my suspenders showing. I was getting really worried about that.
Oh that? *That* smell is pine-scented eevyl, with two e’s and a y’. It’s a special sort of evil—it goes straight to the brain and makes you want to scrub the floors with lemon-scented pine-sol without ventilation.