A Good Scent From A Strange Mountain

My mom is a famous perfumer who's well-known in town. But her perfumes are charged per session. One session costs 200 thousand dollars. She only takes in ten customers per month, too. Those who have used the perfumes my mom has concocted will be enveloped by the perfumes' unique fragrance that leaves an unforgettable impression on those who have smelled it. In fact, the fragrance is capable of covering up the customers' body odor, no matter how strong it is. One session will leave the customers with enough fragrance that lasts for a month. Countless celebrities and rich women specifically travel to this town just to frequent my mom's business. Everyone sings praises about my mom, claiming that she's the mistress of all fragrances who's here to bless humanity with her gift. But I know that my mom isn't as amazing as everyone thinks she is. The only reason why her business is booming like this is all thanks to the "thing" that she keeps locked up in that room…

What is the taste of betrayal? It’s bitter, like the fading fragrance of wilted roses. Camille, a talented yet proud perfumer, suddenly loses her sense of smell after a fateful accident. On the verge of despair and the collapse of her family’s fragrance brand, she is forced to collaborate with Antoine Moreau, a digital scent developer. Amidst the splendor of Paris, in a clash between tradition and technology, new scents begin to emerge – not only from the perfume bottles but also from Camille's heart, which she thought had long been closed.

PSA: This book has high smut intensity, intoxicating chemistry and compelling family and sibling rivalry. Aanoni Adukolapo was raised to lead. He is disciplined, charismatic, egoistic, and heir to a fortune. At twenty-eight, he has carved his name into a perfume empire, a revolt against his father’s tight reins. But power has never unsettled him the way Ere does. Ereadurami is thirty-five: elegant and dangerously alluring. The kind of woman who should be sacred, a taboo, and off-limits in Yoruba culture. Her boutique displays her clothing artistry, work of a master. She is sweet, refined, but behind that subtle demeanor lies a hungry succubus. What begins as a random suggestion inside her boutique soon spirals into a hunger neither of them can resist. Every glance, every stare, every breath is calculated, meant not to seem weak. She is older, forbidden, and everything his father would use to destroy him. But the closer Aanoni gets to Ere, the harder it becomes to care about consequences. Desire is intoxicating, hypnotic and surrendering to her might be the most reckless, irresistible rebellion of all. Ere’s Scent is a sensual and erotic tale of age-gap temptation, power, and passion where legacy clashes with lust, where rebellion clashes with passion , and one forbidden woman could bring an empire to its knees.

There are many people who have met Ciara, each with a different impression of her. However, they all agree on describing Ciara as follows: She is a beautiful person. She is like a princess who doesn't care about life. She is like a graceful flower always emitting a inviting fragrance. She has a scent that arouses the hunger of those who smell it. She is like an item that everyone wants to possess. She is like a dish that everyone craves. She is a deadly poison if anyone dares to touch her. If one day you happen to smell a fragrance that arouses your instinct to hunt, I have two pieces of advice for you: first, control yourself; second, if you are not the chosen one, run away, because otherwise all that awaits you is a painful death.

I had worked for Customs and Border Protection for five years, but my unusually sensitive sense of smell was classified, so my husband always believed I was an ordinary office assistant. On our third wedding anniversary, I saw the husband who claimed he had to work late standing in the airport arrivals hall. He was gently brushing the hair away from his ex-girlfriend Celeste Vaughn's face, smiling at her tenderly. When he noticed me, he lowered his hand as though nothing had happened and instinctively stepped in front of her. "Nora, did you follow me? It's only a stupid anniversary. Is missing it going to kill you? "Go on, then. What do you want this time? A purse? Shoes? Jewelry?" The surrounding travelers looked me up and down with contempt. It felt like being slapped in public. I pushed the ultrasound image deeper into my pocket and pinched my trembling fingertips. "I didn't follow you." "Damien, thank you for meeting my flight, but your wife is more important. Be good and spend today with her. "And don't speak to a woman so harshly. Apologize." Damien Cole stiffly muttered, "Sorry." My eyes widened. I couldn't believe the proud, untouchable Damien had obeyed her so readily. My heart sank. Celeste patted Damien's shoulder, took the suitcase from his hand, nodded politely to me, and turned toward the exit checkpoint. Then a strange odor reached me. I stepped in front of her. "I'm sorry, but open your suitcase. Customs needs to inspect it."

Queenie Livingston, my best friend whom I have cared for over the years, gives me a bottle of perfume. I immediately turn around and pour its contents down the toilet. In my previous life, that perfume made me sprout hair all over my body and reek. I was shunned by my colleagues, and my then-boyfriend and superior, Preston Zimmerman, wasted no time in dumping me and hooking up with Queenie. I desperately sought medical treatment back then, but with nowhere left to turn, I died in utter agony and despair. Only after my death did I learn that the grotesque condition was caused by the perfume Queenie had maliciously tampered with. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the exact day Queenie gave me the perfume.