What Causes The Smell In Pee After Eating Asparagus?

Ashley Grey knows better than to get involved with her bestfriend that's in a relationship. She has been keeping her feelings for him a secret for years. Until one day they are dared to kiss each other. Then everything is flipped between them. Stolen kisses, touches and a whole lot of tension. These two go on a journey that will either drift them apart or pull them even closer. “ I can’t be your friend Ley when I know how you taste.” This book is part of a series: Book 1: Badboy Asher Book 2: His Blonde Temptress Book 3: Loving The Enemy Book 4: Bestfriends Shouldn't Know How You Taste

In a bid to assess rare resources, our expedition team ventures into an uninhabited desert, only to be suddenly faced with a heat wave that reaches 158 degrees Fahrenheit. Becoming so dehydrated that I'm close to fainting, I hurriedly open my backpack to dig out the electrolyte drink I prepared beforehand. The bottle is already about to touch my lips when I realize it's half filled with urine. I turn my head, just in time to see my husband's childhood sweetheart guzzling the electrolyte drink. Just as I'm about to lose my temper, my husband yanks on my sleeve. "Don't be mad. I was the one who gave your electrolyte drink to Maddy because she's nearly dehydrated. In the meantime, you'd better just make do and drink this, okay?" By then, black spots are dancing in my vision. Squeezing the bottle of urine, I hiss through gritted teeth, "I'm already dehydrated, but instead of letting me rehydrate quickly, you're telling me to drink this. Are you trying to kill me?" Immediately, a displeased look crosses his face. "Stop talking nonsense. Maddy isn't like you and doesn't train her body every day. She absolutely can't handle such high temperatures. Isn't it only right that she gets the electrolyte drink? "Besides, urine can rehydrate you, too. Why are you still making a fuss at this point?" Realizing that he cannot be reasoned with, I decide to send out a distress signal and seek help before I fully lose consciousness. "Severely dehydrated and near death. Expedition operations suspended. Immediate rescue required. Also reporting the presence of a robber within the team—please contact authorities as soon as possible."

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…

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.

I was born with a strange, painful condition. Women are strongly drawn to me, yet after I got married, I became allergic to my own wife, Quinn Rowan. Every attempt at intimacy left me covered in burning red welts, struggling to breathe. More than once, I nearly went into shock. Nevertheless, my desire to have a child was overwhelming. So one night, gambling with my life, I quietly slipped into the bedroom. Strangely, nothing happened to me that night. Soon, Quinn became pregnant. I naively believed everything would finally return to normal. Then, eight months into her pregnancy, a single accidental touch sent me into another violent allergic reaction, and I was rushed to the hospital. When I finally came to, Quinn was nowhere to be found. At the end of the corridor, I heard her whispering with her girlfriends, "Look how ridiculous he looked, all swollen and gasping. Pathetic." Quinn dangled the special tonic she had always claimed was meant to help me, her voice dripping with disdain, "I engineered this formula myself. I made sure he’d break out in hives the moment he touched me. That way, he’d never come near me. "But since he was so desperate for a kid, I decided to let him raise the baby Miles and I conceived together. It’s charity, really." My blood froze. The child I longed for, the baby I treasured, was never mine.

During a game of Truth or Dare at a gathering with friends, my girlfriend, Bridget Ellison, loses. Her punishment is to buy coffee for everyone. Half an hour later, she returns carrying more than a dozen bags and starts handing out drinks with a smile. "Francis, you've been pulling all-nighters for two days straight. Here's your iced long black." "Daryl, you like java chip frappe with extra mocha sauce, right?" "And here's yours. Lemon black tea, no ice. You've ordered it hundreds of times." One by one, everyone gets their drink. By the time she reaches me, only an empty bag remains. Everyone at the table freezes. "Where's Aiden's drink?" She pushes her peach frappe toward me and says, "I forgot. He can just share mine." A friend immediately groans and complains, "It's the same every gathering. If you two want to show off how loving you are, can you at least come up with a new routine?" Everyone around us laughs and teases us, but I can't bring myself to even take a sip of the drink. I'm the only one who knows the truth. The display of affection is an act. In reality, she has truly forgotten to buy me a drink. After four years together, Bridget still can't remember that I'm allergic to peaches. I set the peach frappe back on the table. I've spent four years settling for less. Now, it's time for me to leave.