Gena Showalter
246 citations

What's that smell? I froze. What? Did I really smell so distasteful he had only to lean in my direction to catch a putrid whiff of me? I stayed the urge to break his freaking nose for pointing out my stinkiness. He sniffed again. I can't place it. How bad is it? I asked, my cheeks heating. It's good. Some kind of flower. My first thought: Hurray! I don't stink. My second: Ohmygod! ✨ Gena Showalter (2012). Animal Instincts, p.66, Harlequin

162

Thought

14