quinta-feira, 30 de janeiro de 2014

Image or Likeness

Hello...

after Capote, a writer that so inspires me, today's 40th page is one of my books.

Here we go...

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Moira Bianchi


Chapter four
the horror
page 40

"It was upsetting the way she stared at him like she expected him to react to that name. He was as stone faced as before, unable to take another breath, terrified of what was coming his way. He waited. His head twirled in light speed with possibilities. Very bad possibilities.


‘Also known as Ray Anderson.’ Lalie continued.

She sighed deeply after a few seconds of unnervingly watching his eyes.

‘She is a hooker who plays me.’ Lalie whispered.

Sam had to react to that. ‘What?’

‘She plays me to your friends. She looks like me, really looks like me only a bit thinner and shorter. And she lets them do her anyway they want. Anyway they fantasize doing me.’ Lalie said in a string of words that he needed a few seconds to understand.
‘That’s a dirty joke, Lana.’ Samuel accused.

‘I know. I can’t deal with this on my own, Love. That’s why I ran to you.’ She said and turned to her side hugging her knees to her chest. ‘I couldn’t be without you for another twelve hours. I feel so dirty, Sam.’

‘It doesn’t make sense at all.’ He said enraged and folded his arms over his chest.

‘At the Africa party this woman approached me with this incredible tale of being a hooker lucky enough to look like me. She invited me to lunch Tuesday. I considered ignoring and coming home with you but I was too curious.’ She confessed.

Sam raised his eyebrows. ‘You cannot be this gullible. What if it was a kidnap?’

‘I considered that. But the lunch date was at our hotel’s restaurant and I warned the manager of a strange person I was meeting. He even gave me a safe word to use!’ She smiled wanly.

He blinked but didn’t comment. He knew his wife well enough to know that if he said what was in his throat she would clam up and it would be impossible to squeeze anything out of her.

‘At the appointed time she arrived dressed like me, even her shoes, Sam. It was like seeing my image in a mirror. She is very classy, very polite. In the bathroom when she introduced herself to me at the party she was really polite but too cryptic. At lunch she was sincere… at least I believed she was.’

She bit her lower lip so hard it almost cut skin. Sam felt his heart take a jolt but calmed himself with the assurance that she was safe at home and in one piece. He gave her a once over without moving his head just to reassure his heart she was really ok physically.

‘I want to tell you all of it. Will you allow me?’ Lana asked sounding very distant from him as if they didn’t share the extended intimacy of a loving couple.

‘What kind of question is that, Lana?’ He asked offended."

---

Oh,oh... things are starting to go... wrong?...




Disclaimer: 40 pages 40 is my way to come to terms with celebrate my 40th birthday. By promoting 40 awesome books I like in no way I intend to dupe the original authors. If you, as me, like what you read, buy them!
All 40 books can be found on the right side bar. ►
All images found on Google. Kudos to the original poster.

sábado, 25 de janeiro de 2014

Breakfast at Tiffany's

ah, Capote...
ah, Hepburn...

Since the first moment I was presented to Holly Golightly (go light), I loved her. It was as powerful and overwhelming as meeting Darcy and Lizzy when they bicker at Netherfield... 
Ah... love!

I read the novella, watched the movie w few hundred times, ead books about the novella, wrote a book inspired by it... You see, I love this story.

Here you go: a deluxe 40th page.



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Breakfast at Tiffany's

Truman Capote


page 40

"Late one afternoon, while waiting for a Fifth Avenue bus, I noticed a taxi stop across the street to let out a girl who ran up the steps of the Forty-second Street public library. She was through the doors before I recognized her, which was pardonable, for Holly and libraries were not an easy association to make. I let curiosity guide me between the lions, debating on the way whether I should admit following her or pretend coincidence. In the end I did neither, but concealed myself some tables away from her in the general reading room, where she sat behind her dark glasses and a fortress of literature she'd gathered at the desk. She sped from one
book to the next, intermittently lingering on a page, always with a frown, as if it were printed upside down. She had a pencil poised above paper -- nothing seemed to catch her fancy, still now and then, as though for the hell of it, she made laborious scribblings. Watching her, I remembered a girl I'd known in school, a grind, Mildred Grossman. Mildred: with her moist hair and greasy spectacles, her stained fingers that dissected frogs and carried coffee to picket lines, her flat eyes that only turned toward the stars to estimate their chemical tonnage. Earth and air could not be more opposite than Mildred and Holly, yet in my head they acquired a Siamese twinship, and the thread of thought that had sewn them together ran like this: the average personality reshapes frequently, every few years even our bodies undergo a complete overhaul -- desirable or not, it is a natural thing that we should change. All right, here were two people who never would. That is what Mildred Grossman had in common with Holly Golightly. They would never change because they'd been given their character too soon; which, like sudden riches, leads to a lack of proportion: the one had splurged herself into a top-heavy realist, the other a lopsided romantic. I imagined them in a restaurant of the future, Mildred still studying the menu for its nutritional values, Holly still gluttonous for everything on it. It would never be different. They would walk through life and out of it with the same determined step that took small notice of those cliffs at the left. Such profound observations made me forget where I was; I came to, startled to find myself in the gloom of the library, and surprised all over again to see Holly there. It was after seven, she was freshening her lipstick and perking up her appearance from what she deemed correct for a library to what, by adding a bit of scarf, some earrings, she considered suitable for the Colony. When she'd left, I wandered over to the table where her books remained; they were what I had wanted to see. South by Thunderbird. Byways of Brazil. The Political Mind of Latin America. And so forth."
---

Wow, one long paragraph!
Hail good authors!
King of bananas!




Disclaimer: 40 pages 40 is my way to come to terms with celebrate my 40th birthday. By promoting 40 awesome books I like in no way I intend to dupe the original authors. If you, as me, like what you read, buy them!
All 40 books can be found on the right side bar. ►
All images found on Google. Kudos to the original poster.

sexta-feira, 24 de janeiro de 2014

Bridget Jones's diary

Hello,

Down the Austen path, I've seen, read and watched a lot of things. I made friends, had lots of fun, turned into a writer myself... but my first plunge into Austen-mania was Miss Jones
Oh Colin... so dashing!

It's always nice to revisit people we love, isn't it?

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Bridget Jones's Diary


Helen Fielding


FEBRUARY

Valentine's day massacre
page 40

"11.45 p.m. Oh God. It was me, four married couples and Jeremy's brother (forget it, red braces and face. Calls girls 'fillies'.)

'So,' bellowed Cosmo, pouring me a drink. 'How's your love-life?'

Oh no. Why do they do this? Why? Maybe the Smug Marrieds only mix with other Smug Marrieds and don't know how to relate to individuals any more. Maybe they really want to patronize us and make us feel like failed human beings. Or maybe they are in such a sexual rut they're thinking 'There's a whole other world out there,' and hoping for vicarious thrills by getting us to tell them the roller-coaster details of our sex lives.

'Yes, why aren't you married yet, Bridget?' sneered Woney (babytalk for Fiona, married to Jeremy's friend Cosmo) with a thin veneer of concern whilst stroking her pregnant stomach.

Because I don't want to end up like you, you fat, boring, Sloaney milch cow, was waht I should have said, or, Because if I had to cook Cosmo's dinner then get into the same bed as him just once, let alone every night, I'd tear off my own head and eat it, or, Because actually, Woney, underneath my clothes, my entire body is covered in scales. But I didn't because, ironically enough, I didn't want to hurt her feelings. So I merely simpered apologetically, at which point someone called Alex piped up, 'Well, you know, once you get past a certain age...'"

'Exactly... All the decent chaps have been snapped up,' said Cosmo, slapping his fat stomach and smirking so that his jowls wobbled.

---

Don't you hate the Bingleys?
Sorry, snotty friends?


right, give them no importance!


Disclaimer: 40 pages 40 is my way to come to terms with celebrate my 40th birthday. By promoting 40 awesome books I like in no way I intend to dupe the original authors. If you, as me, like what you read, buy them!
All 40 books can be found on the right side bar. ►
All images found on Google. Kudos to the original poster.

quarta-feira, 22 de janeiro de 2014

Austenland

Hey,
Hot in here, but there's no news...
While it's freezing up there in lovely New York, it's toasty down here.

Not easy to find stamina do work, much less leave the AC in the morning. yesterday it was amazingly 32°C at 10PM!!!

To cool us down, let's take a hike to...


mr darcy mr noble


Austenland


Boyfriend #1
Justin Kimble ,  AGE TWELVE
page 40

"Aunt Saffronia took the  basket. “Lovely!  I will  give them the chef and we shall see  what  splendid  treat  he  can  make  out  of  them.  You  must  stay  for  dinner,  Amelia.  I insist.” 

“Thank you, I will.” 

Jane and Miss Charming exchanged frowns. 

The  four  ladies  sat  and  chatted,  or  mostly  Miss  Heartwright  and  Aunt  Saffronia chatted  while  Jane  and  her  unhappy  ally  listened,  glumly  plucking  at  their  embroidery. 

But among her other qualities, Miss Heartwright was also generous in her attentions. 

“Miss Erstwhile, do you enjoy novels?” 

“I do, yes. "

“I know they are naughty things, but I devour novels.  The Castle of Otronto had me in chills.” 

“Yes, how can I forget that giant helmet?” Jane had done her homework on gothic romances  a  few  years  ago,  thank  goodness,  in  an  attempt  to  appreciate   Northanger  Abbey.  “But  Mrs.  Radcliffe’s  writings  are  my  favorite,  particularly   The  Mysteries  of  Udolpho.” 

Miss  Heartwright  clapped  her  hands  with  delight.  “Wonderful!  We’ll  have  so much to talk about. I hope you will call on the cottage often during your stay.” 

Jane  was  spared  an  answer  when  the  maid  announced  that  the  gentlemen  had returned from the fields. 

“Show them in, thank you,” Aunt Saffronia said.

The gentlemen entered, looking smart in their sporting attire, rough and handsome in  grays  and  browns,  redolent  of  grass  and animals.  Jane  stood  before  them,  thinking about  whether  an  1816  woman  would  arise  for  men,  and  then  fumbled  her embroidery, sending it to the ground. Colonel Andrews bent to pick it up. On his breath she caught a whiff of tobacco, which only slightly damaged the pleasing effect of his charming smile up close."


---



Ah... gentlemen and cigars...
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March, 11th - Update 
Just watched the movie! It's better! It's fun!

)
Ha! Funny, huh?


Disclaimer: 40 pages 40 is my way to come to terms with celebrate my 40th birthday. By promoting 40 awesome books I like in no way I intend to dupe the original authors.
If you, as me, like what you read, buy them!
All 40 books can be found on the right side bar. ►
All images found on Google. Kudos to the original poster.

segunda-feira, 20 de janeiro de 2014

Twilight

hello,
Today I'm all for throwbacks, even thought it's not Thursday.

I spent the weekend working on the Portuguese version of my new book '45 days in Europe with Mr. Darcy' and there he and Lizzy are in their twenties.

Then we just watched a movie about the early twenties of (the biggest) a Brazilian rock star Renato Russo and the power his art had on all of us. I have even put Darcy and Lizzy in one of his songs... Lovely, great, poetic, fun song. The English version is read but not posted... Maybe someday...

Anf then... well, how about some vamp love?

I have a vamp story in the oven, for about two years now. Maybe someday...

The forbidden fruit, wrists, so delicate and communicating.. Ah, Edward... <3


Stephenie Meyer


Chapter 5. 
Blood Type
page 40

"I made my way to English in a daze. I didn't even realize when I first walked in that class had already started.

"Thank you for joining us, Miss Swan," Mr. Mason said in a disparaging tone.

I flushed and hurried to my seat.

It wasn't till class ended that I realized Mike wasn't sitting in his usual seat next to me. I felt a twinge of guilt. But he and Eric both met me at the door as usual, so I figured I wasn't totally unforgiven. Mike seemed to become more himself as we walked, gaining enthusiasm as he talked about the weather report for this weekend. The rain was supposed to take a minor break, and so maybe his beach trip would be possible. I tried to sound eager, to make up for disappointing him yesterday. It was hard; rain or no rain, it would still only be in the high forties, if we were lucky.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. It was difficult to believe that I hadn't just imagined what Edward had said, and the way his eyes had looked. Maybe it was just a very convincing dream that I'd confused with reality. That seemed more probable than that I really appealed to him on any level.

So I was impatient and frightened as Jessica and I entered the cafeteria. I wanted to see his face, to see if he'd gone back to the cold, indifferent person I'd known for the last several weeks. Or if, by some miracle, I'd really heard what I thought I'd heard this morning. Jessica babbled on and on about her dance plans — Lauren and Angela had asked the other boys and they were all going together — completely unaware of my inattention.

Disappointment flooded through me as my eyes unerringly focused on his table. The other four were there, but he was absent. Had he gone home? I followed the still-babbling Jessica through the line, crushed. I'd lost my appetite — I bought nothing but a bottle of lemonade. I just wanted to go sit down and sulk.

"Edward Cullen is staring at you again," Jessica said, finally breaking through my abstraction with his name. "I wonder why he's sitting alone today."

My head snapped up. I followed her gaze to see Edward, smiling crookedly, staring at me from an empty table across the cafeteria from where he usually sat. Once he'd caught my eye, he raised one hand and motioned with his index finger for me to join him. As I stared in disbelief, he winked.

"Does he mean you?" Jessica asked with insulting astonishment in her voice.

"Maybe he needs help with his Biology homework," I muttered for her benefit. "Um, I'd better go see what he wants."

I could feel her staring after me as I walked away.

When I reached his table, I stood behind the chair across from him, unsure.

"Why don't you sit with me today?" he asked, smiling."
---

Is Edward Mr. Darcy?
Could Mr. Darcy be Edward?



Disclaimer: 40 pages 40 is my way to come to terms with celebrate my upcoming 40th birthday. By promoting 40 awesome books I like in no way I intend to dupe the original authors. If you, as me, like what you read, buy them!
All 40 books can be found on the right side bar. ►
All images found on Google. Kudos to the original poster.

sexta-feira, 17 de janeiro de 2014

The bloody chamber

hello,
it seems that, for me,  2014 will rock!
Work and Darcy-related events... Yay!

Let's face it with an open spirit and courage. May the lion come!

Ah, btw, Today's 40th page is all about facing the lion... Mmm... love it!


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The Bloody Chamber: And Other Stories

Angela Carter

The Courtship of Mr Lyon

page 40

"Time for another whisky as he tried, unsuccessfully, to call Beauty and tell her he would be late; but the lines were still down, although, miraculously, the storm had cleared as the moon rose and now a glance between the velvet curtains revealed a landscape as of ivory with an inlay of silver. Then the spaniel appeared again, with his hat in her careful mouth, prettily wagging her tail, as if to tell him it was time to be gone, that this magical hospitality was over.

As the door swung to behind him, he saw the lion's eyes were made of agate.

Great wreaths of snow now precariously curded the rose trees and, when he brushed against a stem on his way to the gate, a chill armful softly thudded to the ground to reveal, as if miraculously preserved beneath it, one last, single, perfect rose that might have been the last rose left living in all the white winter, and of so intense and yet delicate a fragrance it seemed to ring like a dulcimer on the frozen air.

How could his host, so mysterious, so kind, deny Beauty her present?

Not now distant but close at hand, close as that mahogany front door, rose a mighty, furious roaring; the garden seemed to hold its breath in apprehension. But still, because he loved his daughter, Beauty's father stole the rose.

At that, every window of the house blazed with furious light and a fugal baying, as of a pride of lions, introduced his host.

There is always a dignity about great bulk, an assertiveness, a quality of being more there than most of us are. The being who now confronted Beauty's father seemed to him, in his confusion, vaster than the house he owned, ponderous yet swift, and the moonlight glittered on his great, mazy head of hair, on the eyes green as agate, on the golden hairs of the great paws that grasped his shoulders so that their claws pierced the sheepskin as he shook him like an angry child shakes a doll.

This leonine apparition shook Beauty's father until his teeth rattled and then dropped him sprawling on his knees while the spaniel, darting from the open door, danced round them, yapping distractedly, like a lady at whose dinner party blows have been exchanged.

'My good fellow--' stammered Beauty's father; but the only response was a renewed roar.

'Good fellow? I am no good fellow! I am the Beast, and you must call me Beast, while I call you, Thief!'

'Forgive me for robbing your garden, Beast!'

Head of a lion; mane and mighty paws of a lion; he reared on his hind legs like an angry lion yet wore a smoking jacket of dull red brocade and was the owner of that lovely house and the low hills that cupped it.

'It was for my daughter,' said Beauty's father.' All she wanted, in the whole world, was one white, perfect rose.'

The Beast rudely snatched the photograph her father drew from his wallet and inspected it, first brusquely, then with a strange kind of wonder, almost the dawning of surmise. The camera had captured a certain look she had, sometimes, of absolute sweetness and absolute gravity, as if her eyes might pierce appearances and see your soul. When he handed the picture back, the Beast took good care not to scratch the surface with his claws.

'Take her the rose, then, but bring her to dinner,' he growled; and what else was there to be done?"
---

Oh, dear... what could he do besides submit his lovely daughter to the mercy of Beast?...

hot rio chick fancy dinner



Disclaimer: 40 pages 40 is my way to come to terms with celebrate my upcoming 40th birthday. By promoting 40 awesome books I like in no way I intend to dupe the original authors. If you, as me, like what you read, buy them!
All 40 books can be found on the right side bar. ►
All images found on Google. Kudos to the original poster.

quarta-feira, 15 de janeiro de 2014

A vignette fr '45 days in Europe with Mr. Darcy'

Hello,
I've been invited to a lovely New Year's get together on Goodreads. Sophie posted this on her blog Laughing with Lizzie and I will post it too.

This is my entry telling you what Darcy didn't in '45 days in Europe with Mr. Darcy': his New Year's party in Dubai.

While Lizzy was at home with her family, he was partying hard.
Now you´ll know what he was up to...


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rated T, modern



She's got a lot of nerve

A ’45 days in Europe with Mr. Darcy’ vignette


‘Come on, Darce! I won’t have you alone in the corner in such a stupid manner!’ Charles Bingley approached his longtime friend Fitzwilliam Darcy sporting an annoying smile. ‘Such a nice party, it's almost midnight and look at you! Sulking!’

‘Return to your date, Bingley.’ Darcy answered deepening his frown. ‘She’ll waste her smiles if you are not there to appreciate.’

hot rio chick pride and prejudice storyBingley laughed. ‘You should include ‘loosening up’ in that New Year’s resolution list.’

Darcy averted his eyes from the beautifully art deco decorated salon to the friend he met in boarding school when they were boys. Frequently Darcy regretted having adopted Bingley as his protégée those many years ago. He could be really obnoxious.

‘In fact, I’m working on it now.’ Darcy answered.

‘I wonder.’ Bingley took a sip of his glass.

‘First New Year’s resolution: Don’t allow anyone to tell me what I should do.’

Bingley laughed. ‘So many pretty birds here tonight. Not one is using burkas!’ He wiggled his brows.

Darcy shook his head. More than two weeks in the United Emirates and Bingley was still fantasizing what was beneath the women’s robes. If they had chosen a nunnery to spend the holidays, he would surely have similar thoughts. ‘You are dancing with the prettiest one. Why should I settle for less?’


‘She is lovely, another angel!’ Bingley grinned and winked to his date who was giggling with some friends a few steps away. ‘How about that one in the scanty grey dress?’
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Darcy turned his head to the side and crossed eyes with said girl again. They had been stealing glances since he arrived. She was pretty, but… ‘Not enough to tempt me.’ He answered.

‘Brazil is a long way from here, Darce. Chill.’ Bingley tapped his friends’ shoulder and returned to his angelical date.

“Exactly seven thousand, three hundred and seventy eight miles. A sea, a gulf and the evil Atlantic Ocean separating the rich Dubai from the tropical Rio de Janeiro.” Darcy thought and again whisked his cell phone from his pocket. As soon as he unlocked it, there she was. Lovely, smiling, Venice’s sunset behind her.

Second New Year’s resolution: realize things won’t fall at your feet, chips frequently fell where they shouldn’t.

Seven thousand miles composed a very big distance but it wasn’t impossible. A little effort, a lot of constancy and a handful of persuasion should do it.

hot rio chick pride and prejudice sexy fanficWith a sigh he closed the photo and pulled up the mail Georgie had sent him that very morning: “Big bruv, you chose to spend the holidays away from home but that won’t keep me from nagging. Here’s a list of resolutions – take note!”

Third New Year’s resolution: if the responsibility is yours, take it. He had messed up and tried to mend things, but it wasn’t easy. Remorse, anger, frustration, pent up hotness: all mixed up in him. He groaned and drained his glass. ‘I need another drink.’ He grumbled to himself.

‘All alone, old sport?’ A melodic voice quoted Fitzgerald in a whisper close to his ear. A little too close, in fact.

Darcy turned his eyes to the pretty woman in the gray scanty dress. Amazing legs, great body, full mouth. More than enough to tempt him.

‘Yes. You?’ He asked.

She moved her designed eyebrows and tilted her head to the side. ‘So it seems.’

He raised his eyes to the waiter passing by with a tray of champagne flutes and extended his hand to trade his empty for a new one, passing close to her shoulder. The girl turned, curious of his intentions and the long gray fringes hung from her low neckline to hemline, added to the sparkling sequins beneath it, flattered her figure. He blinked and sipped his new drink.

‘American?’ She asked.

‘British.’ He answered.

‘I’m South African.’ She offered. ‘Ella.’

‘William.’

‘Enjoying the party?’ She flirted blinking her smoky eyes.

He raised his eyebrows. ‘It can always improve.’

Forth New Year’s resolution: No one can have it all. Accept tradeoffs. He was a world away from her, he tried to mend things and was making (slow) progress but why bark at the wrong tree? He snorted to himself; she would flip with the use of a proverb. The pretty girl smiled sideways in question and he shook his head.

Nothing, it was nothing, really.

Except it was. She had a lot of nerve, that Elizabeth Bennett. Fool him for several days and then, literally, shut a door in his face. They flirted – he was sure she did flirt, he was not, could not have misunderstood her the whole time. She did flirt deliciously, and he loved every moment of it. Amsterdam, space cakes, Venice, wellies, Milan, vespa, the Tropic and their night together seasoned with perfectly cooled grappa. And the morning after was heavenly, perfect, hot, unforgettable.

Darcy was a bit afraid to turn into a school girl mooning over a crush. "Tradeoff, no one can have it all", he repeated to himself. ‘You dressed the part, very Daisy-like.’ He smiled charmingly.

hot rio chick pride and prejudice sexy fanficElla battled her lashes at the handsome man in black tie. ‘We match, you are absolutely Gatsby-like.’  She reached forward and groomed his lapel. ‘White jacket suits you. Better than the traditional black.’  She said based only on her will to flirt – she had never seen him before.

It didn’t matter; she wouldn't have to try very hard. Darcy was on the mood to let her numb the squeeze in his chest.

Fifth New Year’s resolution: careful with the grey, the world is made of black and white. Things either are right or wrong for you. Learn to identify what works and what doesn’t. If Lizzy was that out of reach – geographically and emotionally – it was time to admit it was helpless. The grey girl beside him, however…

From the corner of his eyes he saw Bingley’s satisfaction in seeing him with this girl. He hated that look and elected it the reason for his vague uneasiness.

The unfamiliar atmosphere of a New Year’s party themed as Fitzgerald’s The great Gatsby was also weighing on him. Art deco room, black and white and… golden – no grey. No indecisions, no unnecessary layerings, all very tasteful and exuberant. White sets of antlers, white feathered boa, black dishware, floating white roses and lilies in crystal glasses. No tulips though. Oh, her tulips!...

Darcy reminded himself to nod and smile agreeing with grey Ella who was chatting about something.

Tulips had brought Elizabeth to him. An array of colors, pinks, yellows, blues… and hedge. He chuckled secretly. “Hedge mazes, big helpers.” She was an explosion of colors - no black, no white and no grey in Lizzy.

‘… dance floor?’ He saw her bright red mouth move but didn’t quite get what she was saying. But the grey girl took his glass from his hand and ushered him to the luxurious salon’s dance floor, her dress having a movement of its own about her.  

But if felt foreign; this girl was almost as tall as he was, she moved freely and confidently, she hugged him differently. Not the same as Amsterdam, La vie en rose, a black dress in a shorter girl, a throaty voice, a sexy tattoo in her right instep, a tasty kiss. Elizabeth.

‘Forty minutes to midnight, let’s find some refreshments and step on the balcony?’

He nodded just as his phone double beeped.

Sixth New Year’s resolution: learn to focus on what matters, stop forgetting your goals and allowing distractions.

Lizzy Bennett sent you a text.
“It is said that whether we won or lost, the old year improves the new with lessons learnt. I say it’s the size of the party that determines how good the incoming year will be. For me, it won´t be that promising. :( Party in Dubai for me! :D Happy New Year, Darcy.”

First his breath caught, then his heart jerked, next his brain commanded and his fingers moved.

“Happy New Year, Lizzy! I can make you as many promises of joy as you wish, my bird. I can even fulfill most of them.”

Seventh New Year’s resolution: efficiency is the key. Be precise, be clear, quit all curves to reach a straight patch. Be bold, geometrical, direct. Very art deco-ish. How fitting.

“Very tempting… But I feel I have to ask: are you drunk?”

hot rio chick pride and prejudice sexy fanfic
He chuckled. Yes, he had drank a few glasses of champagne, how could he not? Pretty girls in short fringed dresses crossed the salon with enormous champagne bottles that sparkled and flirted more than refilled glasses. Yes, he drank to numb the frustration of not having Lizzy with him. Yes, he drank to not compare the girl in grey with her.

“I may have been drinking for quite a while. But it’s not nearly as nice as last time. No grappa and worse company.”

Clear, spot on message. Grappa and Lizzy mixed perfectly, the tangy taste and her sweet kisses complimented each other that night making his head spin. Her touch, her caresses…

But also her shouts and the fire in her eyes. Spiteful words, wrong conclusions, stubbornness.

'There you are!’ Darcy heard.

Eight New Year’s resolution: don’t waste precious time. If it’s not what you want – or deserve, give it up, be it a person or an activity.

He smiled weakly to Ella and she knew this was not the man she would be kissing at midnight. “Ah, well…” She sighed.

Lizzy didn’t answer his message but he was sure she understood him. He was planning to overflow her mailbox with fireworks’ pictures so she could blog as much as she wanted, but he would love to receive one from her. Those eyes, that smile, a white dress … Elizabeth.

When he told her about the Great Gatsby Réveillon in a text a few days earlier, Elizabeth had been ecstatic. Instead of texting back she sent him several voice mails demanding details, pictures, everything. Darcy was not sure he wanted to attend such a big party, it was a Bingley thing. He would rather find an exclusive club with a nice view to watch the fireworks, butLizzy liked the idea so it changed his inclination.

That’s what she did best; make him see things in a different view.

‘Ah, yes of course. Different way to read people.’ Darcy told himself. He left the balcony in search of his friend and found him laughing in a group of pretty girls, his angel and the grey girl included.

‘Bingley, the New Year’s resolution list Georgie sent me.’ Darcy said.

‘The bullshit you deleted?’ Bingley chuckled.

‘Didn’t yet, I’m still considering it.’ Darcy pulled up the mail in his phone. ‘Here.’ He pointed with his middle finger while holding his sweaty champagne flute. ‘Ninth New Year’s resolution: If you’re interested, tell the woman. If it works out, good. If it doesn’t, move on. Act upon it.’ He read and Bingley frowned. ‘Jane Bennett. Weeks ago I told you what Lizzy said.’

If Snoop Doggy Dog weren’t singing so loud, one could hear Bingley’s wheels in motion in his head. ‘What time is it in Rio?’
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‘Early evening. They are spending the holidays in Petrópolis though.’ Darcy answered, Bingley nodded and reached for his own cell phone.

When he asked Lizzy her plans and she said ‘home with family’, he considered inviting her to Dubai. She had traded the Holidays shift at the cruise line with a colleague, so she had a few days free. But he lacked the courage, he was afraid she would refuse him again. Now he regretted not trying, she would love to be there, he would love to have her there. Close to his lips, to his hands, to his arms.

Tenth New Year’s resolution: get off your ass and make things happen. Courage and attitude. Progress may not be linear; you may stumble, but pick yourself up and keep on.

As Darcy saw it, Georgie sent only one same message worded in ten different ways.

‘You stay in my mind so I have to make you mine’, Snoop sang.

Bottom line: Fitzwilliam Darcy was in love with Lizzy Bennett, and would have to make it work.
---

Thanks Rita W, dear, for betaíng and for the delightful lunches we had here in Rio! 

segunda-feira, 13 de janeiro de 2014

North and South

hello,
hot rio chick hot summer in rio
It says 40°C but it feels like 50°C!
it's still mighty hot here in Rio - It'll probably be this hot (or even hotter) untill March - and to chill I've travelled in time in Gaskell's express.

Our next JASBRA RJ meeting will discuss 'North and South' and because it's so pleasant to see a man with a plan, I've returned to Mr Thornton's arms for a while - but not long enough to make Mr. D jealous.

'Thorn' is a dear, he's in my first book 'Friendship of a special kind' as one of Darcy's best friends. Only there he's gay what in no way makes him less endearing.

As I revisit Thorn's and Margareth's story, I can't shake the human engineer eye towards the mills. How hard must it have been to work in a factory at that time... Imagine physical pains and breathing difficulties... Man, we've evolved a lot.

Anyway, here we go. Today's 40th page belongs to:


hot rio chick richard armitage

North And South

Elizabeth Gaskell

Chapter V
Decision

page 40

"Margaret needed all Dixon's help in action, and silence in words; for, for some time, the latter thought it her duty to show her sense of affront by saying as little as possible to her young lady; so the energy came out in doing rather than in speaking A fortnight was a very short time to make arrangements for so serious a removal; as Dixon said, 'Any one but a gentleman--indeed almost any other gentleman--' but catching a look at Margaret's straight, stern brow just here, she coughed the remainder of the sentence away, and meekly took the horehound drop that Margaret offered her, to stop the 'little tickling at my chest, miss.' But almost any one but Mr. Hale would have had practical knowledge enough to see, that in so short a time it would be difficult to fix on any house in Milton-Northern, or indeed elsewhere, to which they could remove the furniture that had of necessity to be taken out of Helstone vicarage. Mrs. Hale, overpowered by all the troubles and necessities for immediate household decisions that seemed to come upon her at once, became really ill, and Margaret almost felt it as a relief when her mother fairly took to her bed, and left the management of affairs to her. Dixon, true to her post of body-guard, attended most faithfully to her mistress, and only emerged from Mrs. Hale's bed-room to shake her head, and murmur to herself in a manner which Margaret did not choose to hear. For, the one thing clear and straight before her, was the necessity for leaving Helstone. Mr. Hale's successor in the living was appointed; and, at any rate, after her father's decision; there must be no lingering now, for his sake, as well as from every other consideration. For he came home every evening more and more depressed, after the necessary leave-taking which he had resolved to have with every individual parishioner. Margaret, inexperienced as she was in all the necessary matter-of-fact business to be got through, did not know to whom to apply for advice. The cook and Charlotte worked away with willing arms and stout hearts at all the moving and packing; and as far as that went, Margaret's admirable sense enabled her to see what was best, and to direct how it should be done. But where were they to go to? In a week they must be gone. Straight to Milton, or where? So many arrangements depended on this decision that Margaret resolved to ask her father one evening, in spite of his evident fatigue and low spirits. He answered:

'My dear! I have really had too much to think about to settle this. What does your mother say? What does she wish? Poor Maria!'

He met with an echo even louder than his sigh. Dixon had just come into the room for another cup of tea for Mrs. Hale, and catching Mr. Hale's last words, and protected by his presence from Margaret's upbraiding eyes, made bold to say, 'My poor mistress!'

'You don't think her worse today,' said Mr. Hale, turning hastily.

'I'm sure I can't say, sir. It's not for me to judge. The illness seems so much more on the mind than on the body.'

Mr. Hale looked infinitely distressed.

'You had better take mamma her tea while it is hot, Dixon,' said Margaret, in a tone of quiet authority.

'Oh! I beg your pardon, miss! My thoughts was otherwise occupied in thinking of my poor----of Mrs. Hale."
---

Dixon would make a lovely Downton character, wouldn't she?


Oh no, silly me... That's not Downton. That's Death comes to Pemberley... My bad... ;)



Disclaimer: 40 pages 40 is my way to come to terms with celebrate my upcoming 40th birthday. By promoting 40 awesome books I like in no way I intend to dupe the original authors. If you, as me, like what you read, buy them!
All 40 books can be found on the right side bar. ►
All images found on Google. Kudos to the original poster.


sexta-feira, 10 de janeiro de 2014

Poirot salva o criminoso

Olá! O sol arde aqui no Rio.
Tá fogo!... Mesmo.

Estou de volta às origens, animada com os romances policiais. E isso pede: Agatha Christie! Na minha faze devoradora de ACs, eu li esse como 'Cipreste triste', nessa edição de banca de jornal mesmo. Ah... minha prá-adolescência!...

Vamos lá?


hot rio chick 40 paginas 40

Poirot salva o criminoso

Agatha Christie

Capítulo sexto
página 40

"Carta da enfermeira O'Brien para a enfermeira Hopkins, a 14 de Julho:

Laborough Court 
Cara colega Hopkins:

- Há dias que tenciono escrever-lhe. Esta residência é encantadora e as gravuras nela bastante famosas, mas não posso dizer que seja tão confortável como Hunterbury, não sei se me entende. Como fica em pleno campo é difícil conseguir criadas e as que cá estão são raparigas inexperientes e algumas pouco prestáveis. Embora eu tenha a certeza de que não sou pessoa que dê trabalho, as refeições que trazem numa bandeja poderiam ao menos ser quentes: 'ambém não há facilidade de ferver água, e o chá nem sempre é feito com água a ferver! Mas enfim tudo isso é suportável! O doente um homem calmo e simpático - uma pneumonia dupla, mas a crise passou e o médico diz que está a melhorar.

O que tenho a dizer-lhe, que lhe interessa com certeza, é a coincidência mais fantástica que possa imaginar. Na sala cá de casa, sobre o enorme piano, há uma fotografia numa moldura grande de prata, e calcule que é a mesma fotografia de que lhe falei - aquela assinada Lewis que a Srª Welman me pediu. É claro que fiquei intrigada - quem não ficaria? Perguntei ao mordomo quem era, e ele respondeu imediatamente que era o irmão de Lady Rattery-- Sir Lewis Rycroft. Parece que vivia perto daqui - e morreu na guerra.

É triste, não acha? Perguntei casualmente se era casado e o mordomo disse que sim, mas que Lady Rycroft tinha sido internada num manicômio pouco tempo depois do casamento. Ainda é viva, segundo me disse. Não é interessante isto? Estávamos enganadas em todas as nossas hipóteses. Devem ter gostado muito um do outro, ele e a Srª Welman e não puderam casar por causa da mulher estar no manicômio.

Tal e qual como nos filmes, não acha? E ela viveu de recordações todos estes anos e contemplou a fotografia dele pouco antes de morrer.

Ele morreu em 1917 disse o mordomo. Um verdadeiro romance, acho eu.

Já viu o novo filme da Myrna Loy? Soube que corria aí em Maidensfold esta semana. Aqui não há sequer cinemas perto! É terrível estar desterrada no campo. Não admira que não arranjem criadas em termos! Bem, adeus por hoje, escreva e conte-me todas as novidades.

Sua afectuosamente Eiken O'Brien 

Carta da enfermeira Hopkins para a enfermefra O'Brien a 14 de Julho: 

Chalé Rosa 
Querida colega O'Brien:

- Por aqui vai tudo como o costume.
Hunterbuy está sem ninguém - os criados foram-se todos embora e está lá uma placa que diz: 'Vende-se'. Outro dia vi a srª Bishop que vive agora em casa de uma irmã a um quilômetro daqui. Como se pode calcular ficou muito impressionada quando soube que a propriedade ia ser vendida. Parece que para ela era coisa assente que Miss Carlisle casaria com o sr. Welman e viveriam ali. Mas diz que o noivado se desfez! Miss Carlisle partiu para Londres logo depois de você se ter ido embora. De vez em quando a atitude dela era muito estranha. Eu não sabia verdadeiramente o que havia de pensar! Mary Gerrard partiu para Londres e está a começar a praticar para massagista. Acho que fez muito bem. Miss Carlisle vai entregar-lhe duas mil libras o que acho muito simpático da parte dela e um procedimento pouco vulgar."
---

Cartas... cartas...
cartas hot rio chick amor principe darcy

Desde os feriados de fim de ano, eu também tenho trabalhado em um romance baseado em cartas. Reais.

Digo, vindas da realeza.

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Mmmm... estória nova na área.


Anúncio: 40 páginas 40 é meu jeitinho de engolir celebrar meu aniversário de 40 anos que está dobrando a esquina. 
Divulgando esses 40 livros bacanérrimos, de maneira nenhuma quero prejudicar os autores. 
Se você, como eu, gosta do que lê, compra o livro! 
Todos os 40 livros estão listados aqui na barra lateral. ►

Achei as imagens no Google. Créditos a quem postou primeiro.