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Quote by Iris Johansen

“I’m trying. God knows. I’m trying. But I’m only halfway there. Don’t trust me too far.” His voice suddenly grew harsh. “I like your friends, Sara, but I hated seeing them with you. I didn’t want you to smile at them. I don’t want you to smile at anyone but me. It rubs me raw to see you—” He stopped and drew a ragged breath. “But you’re a woman people will always want to smile at and touch and—” He broke off again. “So I’d better get used to it, hadn’t I”

Quote by Iris Johansen

Book:Man From Half Moon Bay
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Man From Half Moon Bay

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Author

Iris Johansen
Iris Johansen

Iris Johansen is an American author known for her suspense novels. Born on April 7, 1938, she has published over 50 books since her debut in 1975. Johansen's works are characterized by complex plots and vivid character development, which have won her a wide readership. more

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“While it was true that I knew very few women, I was convinced that Anya must have been the loveliest of them all. I felt always vaguely disappointed every time I saw her eyes light up when she was in Robert's presence for that is when they shined the brightest. He could be wearing dirty clothes, be covered in filth and she'd still think him the greatest boy alive.”

LoveJealousyFavoritismSecret Crush
Book:With a Reckless Abandon
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“The fragrance started off bright and happy, fresh-cut grass and sunshine, iced hibiscus tea, the best of a Sunday afternoon. Lavender and rose released their sweetness into the air so serenely you knew there was not a weed within ten yards of them. The scents filtered out through the store, and as Victoria and I watched, the customers began putting down their phones, looking about with greater interest, smiling at one another. "Well, you certainly made them friendly," Victoria said. I just smiled. The fragrance began to deepen. Vanilla, the clarion call of mothers in aprons and after-school cookies warm from the oven. The women's expressions softened. Your life can be like this, the fragrance said. Your children will love you. Then, slowly, lazily, in came the scent of jasmine. Victoria tilted her head. "Hello, troublemaker," she said. It floated out across the room, heavy and sensual, the essence of beautiful, younger women. Women who birthed children and wore bikinis within a month, or worse yet, never had children at all, their stomachs taut, their breasts ripe. Women who drew the wandering eyes of husbands. Then, even as the customers began shifting away from each other with polite, nervous smiles, there came another scent, lurking inside the jasmine, where it always waited- a touch of indole. A trail that led you downward, into the dirt. But not enough- the fragrance was still too sweet. It hovered in the store, off-kilter. "Hmm," Victoria said, her eyebrows pulling together. "Wait," I said. The want of balance was like an ache in the air. The fragrance reached out, searching, begging for completion. It didn't want sweet. It didn't want nice. And then, out of the skin, the sweat, the very heat of the women's thoughts, came the missing base note. Keen edged as a knife, it rose to meet the sweetness. Jealousy. As we watched, one of the women picked up a cashmere throw and clutched it to her chest. Another sat down on a leather couch, her arms spread out like a claim jumper. Mine. "Brilliant," Victoria said, stifling a laugh. "Absolutely brilliant.”

NotesJealousyPerfumeEffectivenessScentsFragrancesEssencesIntermingled
Book:The Scent Keeper
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