Scent of Triumph

• Praise
  
• Also by Jan Moran
  
• About the Author
  
• Dedication
  
• Part I - Europe
  
  • Chapter 1
    
  • Chapter 2
    
  • Chapter 3
    
  • Chapter 4
    
  • Chapter 5
    
  • Chapter 6
    
  • Chapter 7
    
  • Chapter 8
    
  • Chapter 9
    
  • Chapter 10
    
  • Chapter 11
    
  • Chapter 12
    
  • Chapter 13
    
  • Chapter 14
    
  • Chapter 15
    
• Part II - America
  
  • Chapter 16
    
  • Chapter 17
    
  • Chapter 18
    
  • Chapter 19
    
  • Chapter 20
    
  • Chapter 21
    
  • Chapter 22
    
  • Chapter 23
    
  • Chapter 24
    
  • Chapter 25
    
  • Chapter 26
    
• Part III - Europe
  
  • Chapter 27
    
  • Chapter 28
    
  • Chapter 29
    
  • Chapter 30
    
  • Chapter 31
    
  • Chapter 32
    
  • Chapter 33
    
  • Chapter 34
    
  • Chapter 35
    
  • Chapter 36
    
  • Chapter 37
    
  • Chapter 38
    
• Epilogue
  
• Author's Notes
  
• Acknowledgements
  
• Questions for Book Clubs
  

Copyright © 2012 by Jan Moran

Crescent House Publishing / Briarcliffe Press

P.O. Box 230348

Encinitas, CA 92023

760.431.8800

www.briarcliffepress.com

www.janmoran.com

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Disclaimer: In
Scent of Triumph
we have relied on information provided by third parties and have performed reasonable verification of facts. We assume no responsibility or liability for the accuracy of information contained in this book. No representations or warranties, expressed or implied, as to the accuracy or completeness of this book or its contents are made. The information in this book is intended for entertainment purposes only, and the characters are entirely fictional. Every effort has been made to locate the copyright holders of materials used in this book. Should there be any errors or omissions, we shall be pleased to make acknowledgements in future editions.

Cover design by Sherri Yu, Wonder Studio.

Cover images copyright 123RF.

ISBN: 978-0-963906-57-1

“Jan Moran is the new queen of the epic romance.”

—
USA Today
Bestselling Author Rebecca Forster

“
Scent of Triumph
is a rich tapestry that weaves fragrance into an already compelling story of love and perseverance during WWII. Jan's skillful writing, combined with her wealth of olfactory knowledge, makes this a great read for all, but especially the perfume enthusiast.”

— Karen Adams, Sniffapalooza

“If the idea of a novel about a perfumer brings to mind images of sterile laboratories or serene fields of flowers, think again.
Scent of Triumph
offers action, suspense and romance aplenty as it follows its intrepid heroine through the turbulent years of World War II, from the depths of tragedy to the heights of success. Fragrance lovers will especially enjoy the skillful way in which scent is woven into the story, not only through references to classic perfumes but also in the way the heroine’s experiences are filtered through her highly refined sense of smell.”

— Nancy Arnott, A&E Television Networks

"In
“Scent of Triumph
will appeal to anyone who enjoys historical romance. Filled with love, loss, struggle, triumph. Moran writes in such a way that you will feel as if you were transported back to the era. Her characters are interesting and well developed. Very unique, an enjoyable read.”

— Rebecca’s Reads Review

“
Scent of Triumph
[is a] World War II epic.”

— Denise Hamilton,
Los Angeles Times
, author of
Damage Control

“In
Scent of Triumph
, Jan Moran has created a resilient, talented, yet relatable character in Danielle. Her story will resonate with any woman who has faced the challenges of parenting, loving, and working to build a future for herself—as well as those who are looking for a good read, and a satisfying ending.”

— Kelly James-Enger, Author of
White Bikini Panties
and
The Honesty Index

“Jan is an exceedingly articulate and vivacious authority on her area of specialty: fragrance. She is also a charismatic and elegant presence who knows her business, lives it and loves it.”

— Stephanie Stephens, Host & Executive Producer of
MindYourBody.tv

“Fragrances by the book...everything a fragrance connoisseur wants to know about shopping for a scent.”

—
Women’s Wear Daily

“A primer on women’s fragrances—what’s in them, how to make them last, how to buy them.”

—
Orange County Register

“
Fabulous Fragrances
provides an inside view of the international fragrance world. It gives the reader a broad understanding of just how special fragrance truly is!”

— Bijan, Fashion Designer

“I met Jan through her book,
Fabulous Fragrances
, a must-have for anyone in the fragrance industry (or a fragrance lover).”

— George Zaharoff, Creative Director/Chairman,

Basiliea Zaharoff

“This fragrance fan positively drooled over the sheer amount of information available.”

— Robin Krug, Editor,
Now Smell This

“I feel like a kid in the candy store seeing names of my favorite fragrances under a neat drop down menu. Jan Moran’s writing is an important part of the fragrance entries, often including various stories about a fragrance as well as descriptions. Jan’s beautiful review of Yatagan made me want to reach for my bottle immediately.”

— Victoria Frolova, Editor,
Bois de Jasmin

Fabulous Fragrances II: A Guide to Prestige Perfumes for Women and Men

Fabulous Fragrances: How to Select Your Perfume Wardrobe – The Women’s Guide to Prestige Perfumes

Creator of:

Scentsa®

Scentsa® Beauty

Jan Moran is a writer and entrepreneur

living in San Diego, California.

Visit
www.janmoran.com

For my mother, Jeanne Hollenbeck, who contributed her memories of life during World War II, and instilled a love of perfume and all things beautiful in me. My deep appreciation and love.

Danielle Bretancourt von Hoffman braced herself against the gleaming mahogany-paneled stateroom wall, striving for balance as she flung open a brass porthole. A damp kelp-scented wind whistled through the cabin, assaulting her nose with its raw intensity.

She kept her eyes focused on the horizon as the
Newell-Grey Explorer
slanted upward, slicing through the peak of a cresting wave. The sleek new 80,000 ton super liner creaked and pitched as it heaved through the turbulent grey waters of the icy Atlantic on its voyage from New York to England. Silently, Danielle urged it onward, anxious to return home.

A veil of salty spray prickled Danielle’s fevered brow, and her usually sturdy stomach churned in rhythm with the sea. Was it morning sickness, or the ravaging motion of the sea?
Probably both, she thought, her hand cradling her gently curved abdomen. She gnawed her lip, the metallic taste of blood spreading on her tongue, thinking about the last few days.

Dabbing her mouth with the back of her hand, she blinked against the stiff breeze, her mind reeling. Had it been just two days since she’d heard the devastating news that Nazi forces had invaded Poland?

A staccato knock burst against the stateroom door. Gingerly crossing the room, Danielle opened the door and caught her breath at the sight of Jonathan Newell-Grey, vice president and heir apparent to the British shipping line that bore his name. His tie hung from his collar, and his sleeves were rolled up, exposing muscular forearms taut from years of sailing. A rumpled wool jacket hung over one shoulder. Though they hadn’t been friends long, she was truly glad to see him.

“Is your husband in?” His hoarse voice held the wind of the sea.

“Max will be back soon. Any news?”

“None.” He pushed a hand through his unruly chestnut hair. “The captain has called a meeting at fifteen hundred hours for all passengers traveling on Polish and German passports.”

“But I hold a French passport.”

“You’ll still need to attend, Danielle.”

“Of course, but—” As another sharp pitch jerked through the ship, Jon caught her by the shoulders and kept her from falling.

“Steady now, lass,” he said, a small smile playing on his lips.

Feeling a little embarrassed, Danielle touched the wall for support. Suddenly, she recalled the strange sense of foreboding she’d had upon waking. She was blessed—or cursed—with an unusually keen prescience. Frowning, she asked, “Jon, can the ship withstand this storm?”

“Sure, she’s a fine, seaworthy vessel, one of the finest in the world. This weather’s no match for her.” He stared past her out the porthole, his deep blue eyes riveted on the ocean’s white-capped expanse. Dark, heavily laden clouds crossed the sun, casting angled shadows across his face. He turned back to her, his jaw set. “Might even be rougher seas ahead, but we’ll make England by morning.”

Danielle nodded, but still, she knew.
Oh yes, she knew.
Acid churned in her stomach; something seemed terribly wrong. Her intuition came in quiet flashes of pure knowledge. She couldn’t force it, couldn’t direct it, and knew better than to discuss it with anyone, especially her husband. She was only twenty-four; Max was older, wiser, and told her that her insights were simply rubbish.

Jon touched her arm in a small, sympathetic movement. “What a sorry predicament you’re in. Anything I can do to help?”

“Not unless you can perform a miracle.” Jon’s rough fingers felt warm against her skin, and an ill-timed memory from a few days ago shot through her mind. On Max’s encouragement, they’d shared a dance while Max spoke to the captain at length after dinner, and Danielle remembered Jon’s soft breath, his musky skin, his hair curling just above his collar. He’d been interested in all she had to say, from her little boy to her work at Parfums Bretancourt, her family’s perfumery in France.