That's very sad pfr. At fifteen, you probably found that hard to deal with.
I often buy secondhand books from Amazon. I don't mind if they're a bit dog-eared or tatty, but I hate it if they smell of cigarette smoke.

I've helped with charity jumble sales many times over the years, and a friend gave me a tip. She used to store donated items with a bar of strongly-scented soap in the box. It did seem to overpower the smell a little.

It's strange how much I dislike smoke now. It wasn't always so.
When I was about four or five I was taken up to North Shields (Northumberland) to visit my grandparents. Grandpa smoked about eighty a day (roll-up Woodbines) and frequently took me to his 'local' where dozens of men wearing the traditional cloth caps smoked themselves silly in the bar, downing Newcastle Brown ale.

I was sat on the counter and asked to sing 'Blaydon Races', which I was very happy to do, much to the delight of all those Geordie men, who roared out the chorus. (I did my best to sing in a 'Geordie' and not a 'West London' accent My father had taught me the song.)

The air was a thick fog of tobacco smoke, but I must admit I loved it.
The combined smell of smoke, beer and wet dogs was captivating to a tiny little girl.
It's a shame I no longer like it!