My name is Nora Black. I'm over fifty and loving it. I've embraced the aches and pains, the failing vision, and the new slightly odoriferous physic gift that seems to keep on giving.
My latest smell-o-vision adventure includes a deadly snake, a high-drama baby shower, sibling secrets, and—surprise—a murder.
With my two BFFs, my sweetie cop, and a whole bunch of nutty Garden Covians by my side, we'll sniff out the killer. But if we're not careful, we'll come out smelling like . . . manure.
Forget roses, honey. This aroma with a view is starting to stink.
