& Moira Bianchi: dezembro 2013

terça-feira, 31 de dezembro de 2013

Meu Cantinho Literário: Promoção de Natal - RESULTADO

Hello, hello!
congrats to the winner!
Parabéns à vendedora!

Mayane B., cadê você?

Meu Cantinho Literário: Promoção de Natal - RESULTADO:   Olá, pessoas. Obrigada por participarem de mais um sorteio do blog. E desculpem o atraso para divulgar o resultado. Sabem como é, fest...

sexta-feira, 27 de dezembro de 2013

The Ocean at the end of the lane

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
jane austen center christmas

I'm a bit late for the first and a bit early for the latter but I mean well. As of every year we leave the city to spend the holidays with family and life outside my little coccoon in Rio is very difficult.

No high speed internet connection, no AC in every room, sharing a garden table with my 4-year-old and his batman gear... that's no easy feat.

I've been reading 'The Jane Austen Book Club ' and somehow it made me think of the boy from the Ocean and his father. It was Grigg and his father on their road trip, the pool and the messiah that got me thinking about ties, bathtubs and nannies... 

Anyway, my synapsys are fine but my internet connection is shitty here and I can't babble and find nice pics because my mobile wifi is fifty shades of lame.

Here you have it:

hot rio chick 40 pages 40

The Ocean at the End of the Lane

Neil Gaiman

chapter VI
page 40

"My mother sighed. ‘It is not going to be Gertruda all over again, dear. Ursula’s a very nice girl, from a very good family. And she positively adores the two of you.’

My father came home, and dinner was served. A thick vegetable soup, then roast chicken and new potatoes with frozen peas. I loved all of the things on the table. I did not eat any of it.

‘I’m not hungry,’ I explained.

‘I’m not one for telling tales out of school,’ said Ursula Monkton, ‘but someone had chocolate on his hands and face when he came down from his bedroom.’

‘I wish you wouldn’t eat that rubbish,’ grumbled my father.
‘It’s just processed sugar. And it ruins your appetite and your teeth,’ said my mother.

I was scared they would force me to eat, but they didn’t. I sat there hungrily, while Ursula Monkton laughed at all my father’s jokes. It seemed to me that he was making special jokes, just for her.

After dinner we all watched Mission: Impossible. I usually liked Mission: Impossible, but this time it made me feel uneasy, as people kept pulling their faces off to reveal new faces beneath. They were wearing rubber masks, and it was always our heroes underneath, but I wondered what would happen if Ursula Monkton pulled off her face, what would be underneath that?

We went to bed. It was my sister’s night, and the bedroom door was closed. I missed the light in the hall. I lay in bed with the window open, wide awake, listening to the noises an old house makes at the end of a long day, and I wished as hard as I could, hoping my wishes could become real. I wished that my parents would send Ursula Monkton away, and then I would go down to the Hempstocks’ farm, and tell Lettie what I had done, and she would forgive me, and make everything all right.

I could not sleep. My sister was already asleep. She seemed able to go to sleep whenever she wanted to, a skill I envied and did not have.

I left my bedroom.

I loitered at the top of the stairs, listening to the noise of the television coming from downstairs. Then I crept barefoot-silent down the stairs and sat on the third step from the bottom. The door to the television room was half open, and if I went down another step, whoever was watching the television would be able to see me. So I waited there.

I could hear the television voices punctuated by staccato bursts of TV laughter.

And then, over the television voices, adults talking.

Ursula Monkton said, ‘So, is your wife away every evening?’"

40 pages 40 hot rio chick
THE bucket... ah... the bucket!

I really liked this book...
It was named 2013 Book of the year. Wow!

Congrats to the winner of the Christmas giveaway.
Happy warm tea, the mug warmer is yours!

sábado, 21 de dezembro de 2013

Colours and Years

hello, Summer is here!
Exactly now, the smouldering hot season starts in Rio de Janeiro.
As if on cue, weather started to get warmer...
google doodle summer
Sumer Google doodle... cute! But we won't feel lucky, we'll feel HOT here in Rio.

Oh well, at least we'll have beach, coconut water and cold beer...

For my birthday, a friend sent me a lovely book about life and memories, a nice reflection on choices made. So well written, so pleasant to read... And since it's mere 72 hours since my apocalipse, my gift will be today's 40th page.

hot rio chick 40 pages 40

Colours and Years

Margit Kaffka

Chapter V.
page 40

"For this very reason it was a refined and noble art to deal daintily with it, in the feverish turns of the dance, floating, twirling or tiptoeing on the spot, never forgetting ourselves totally, or what we owned to external appearances and to our superior status.

We joined hands and floated in a waltz around the big dining-room, swaying gently and smoothly with our supple waists. Hanika hummed a tune for us in her stifled, colorless little wisp of a voice and hurried to push the chairs out of our way. ‘They’re the most beautiful of all! There’s none like them in the world!’ she sighed feverishly and exultantly. Grandma opened the door on us; she stood there nodding and observant.

‘Five hundred forints for he two of them… for that they should be pretty, too!’ she said to herself. ‘But they really are magnificent, so they are’, she added more enthusiastically. ‘They fit both of you like a glove!’

She swiftly turned around and went back into her big room overlooking the courtyard. In recent days, she had not had much time for us. She sat in the alcove of the window where the floor was raised, as if on a throne, and held audience for her own clients – those who obtained small sums of money from her at a good rate interest, applicants for leases or agents for cheap plots of land, solicitors, tradesmen and merchants. The most frequent caller was Lipi, our nimble and clever Jew who was good for anything; he was her client and her business confidant. Now all her energy was devoted to her life’s great desire: the elevation of the family through the one and only male heir.

István, indeed, was thirty years old and deputy public notary; next door Ágnes, grandma’s favorite, smoothly groomed and in white muslin dress, grew imperceptibly into a gentle church-mouse of a girl; she was two years older than I was and so very different. ‘As for this lot here, just let them get on with things quickly and as best they can!’ – this thought was obvious in the whole way grandma treated us. She felt that our style and everything employed to achieve it were quite different, and she did not pester my mother over the espense of the dresses. She knew they were our armour, with which we had to be victorious and conquer an all-important battle of life.

When Lipi left grandmother, he would look in on me cheerfully as I sat in the covered terrace. ‘How grown-up you are, Miss Magda! You’ve grown beautiful too! There’s a new factory in Kolozsvár that makes the most splendid walnut furniture. I’ll get hold of some for the price they sell it to me!’"


See you soon...
hot rio chick copacabana
partiu praia!

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.

quinta-feira, 19 de dezembro de 2013

Friendship of a special kind

aaaand... it's here: DOOM'S DAY!

Oh well, it's weird to BE old and FEEL the same. I'm still not one day older than 19. I swear!

But, as Pollyanna taugh us back when, there's always something nice. This year were the significantly bigger gifts to celebrate my 4.0 version.

hot rio chick pride and prejudice fanfic

Can you believe this? My Mr. Darcy gave me a renewed ring just like Jane Austen's! I looooved it! Such a big gift, so much meaning!

It couldn't be different, today's 40th page HAD to be my first JAFF, my adventure that started this blog and this new side of my life 4 years ago: 

hot rio chick pride and prejudice variation

Chapter 4
page 40

"It was twenty five minutes later when she answered:

“No need 4 ur condescension, sir. Already home.”

By then, Darcy was settled at the square cafe waiting for her to give directions to her parents’ home to pick her up. When he got the message he went furious and called her back on impulse.

Lizzy snorted at his handsome and sexy face that flashed on her phone’s screen. ‘Huh! Insufferable!’ But took the call anyway.
“Hello?” Lizzy said petulantly.

“Condescending? Why? You needed to transport a sick man over a two hundred miles’ drive and I rent a comfortable car.” Darcy answered, annoyed. He was making an effort to be helpful and attentive to her, and it seemed Lizzy wasn’t pleased with it.

“Please! You didn’t even offer, you ordered. His doctor arranged for an ambulance. And hello back!” Lizzy spat.

“Hello.” Darcy said, self-conscious. “And I did offer. Twice, yesterday.” He added bitterly.

She was silent for a second and he was sure she remembered the texting.

“Yeah, you did.” Lizzy said softly, feeling foolish for the snapping.

“When Mrs. Hill told me your friend’s father needed to be transferred to Boston I thought I could help.” Darcy patiently explained and added smugly. “And no need to apologize, Darling.”

“I’m sorry. I jump to conclusions sometimes...” Lizzy said bashful.

“And get defensive.” Darcy wouldn’t say but thought to himself: “You’re used to defend yourself alone, aren’t you, Darling?”

“That’s me. Won’t apologize for that.” Lizzy was actually defensive, and remembered the mystery of how Darcy had her number. “Maybe you should.” She spat.

“Excuse me, what?” Darcy asked, confused.

“I don’t remember giving you my phone number.” Lizzy said sternly and he was silent. “And Dennie swears she didn’t either. Not to mention the pic.” She added.

Darcy didn’t say anything. He was very confused. “Is this part of her flirt? Didn’t she leave her phone for me to look into?”

“Look, Will, I’m tired.” She said flatly. “We’ve been through very stressful hours since yesterday. And I’m a bit busy with all the things I have to organize before heading back to the hospital. Charlo needs me, his dad is back at the ICU.”

Lizzy was really tired and her patience was running thin. She wasn’t sure why this guy was calling her and frankly, she wasn’t even interested in finding out.

Darcy was totally baffled. He didn’t have a clue of what was going on and why Lizzy was giving him the cold shoulder. He was losing control and had to step up, quickly. “How is he?” He asked, changing subjects and willing his mind to work.

“Char’s dad?” Lizzy sighed. She should have said goodbye and hung up. “Fine I guess, he’ll only need one stents. Doctor says he was lucky to head straight to the hospital when he felt a small pain. Char’s there now with him and I came home to store the Camaro and rest a bit before going over. I doubt Char’s going to let me take his place so he can take a shower but...”Lizzy paused. “Why are you telling this handsome stranger all this?” Lizzy asked herself.

“You drove that piece of junk?” Darcy got sidetracked by Charlo’s Camaro, a car so old and loud that they could hear it entering the long Netherfield lane from miles away.

“Hey! Don’t say that!” She had to giggle, it was a piece of shit. “Char can kill you for it!”

“So don’t tell him!” Darcy relaxed a little.

“Another little secret, you’re suggesting?” She asked flirtatiously, unable to resist, in spite of her reluctance to talk to him.

Darcy loved it.

“No... According to you, the one we shared is not little at all!” He flirted back.

She laughed and he chuckled. This was the Lizzy he knew."


Now I'm pampering to NOT look 40 to my friends, we're going sushying tonight.

hot rio chick

Will you join us?

hot rio chick
Google does this every year and I love it! So cute!

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.

segunda-feira, 16 de dezembro de 2013

Jane Austen's Book Club

Hello and Happy Birthday!
Not to me... I still have a few more days BEFORE doom. 
Today is Ms Austen's day!
hot rio chick moira bianchi

The other day, when we met to celebrate our Austen friendship, one of the girls teased me saying that in 200 years lovely women could be gathering to talk about my books. We all laughed and laughed. And here we are, thousands and thousands around the globe celbrating Darcys, Tilneys, Bennets, Woodwards... Austens.

We're all a bit better because one day, her father allowed her to write and encouraged her to publish. Am I too sentimental? Forgive me, the world is about to crumple around me!

birthday austen moira bianchi
Imagine turning 238 looking this good?

Ms Austen has been enchanting people not only with her own books but the books she inspires all around. I've listed some of my favorite and today's 40th page is one of them.

hot rio chick

The Jane Austen Book Club

Chapter two 
in which we read Sense and Sensibility with Allegra

page 40

"... I forced my silver ring onto his finger. It caught at the knuckle, but I pushed it down. 

He said how touched he was. He swore he’d never take it off, and then he tried to take it off and he couldn’t. His finger began to swell and turn odd colours. We went to the restroom of the pub and tried to soap it loose, but it was too late, the finger far too swollen. We asked for butter and got it, but that didn’t work either. His face was now turning an odd colour as well, sort of a fishy white. 

You know how pale the Irish are; they never go outdoors there. We went back to the hostel and I tried to take his mind off it by fucking him, but this was only a temporary diversion. His finger was round as a sausage and he couldn’t bend it anymore. 

So we went looking for a taxi to take us to a hospital. By now it was about three in the morning; the streets were dark, cold, and silent. We walked several blocks, and he was actually starting to whine, 
like a dog. When we did finally find a ride, the driver spoke no English. I made siren sounds and pointed, again and again, to the finger. I pantomimed a stethoscope. 

When you picture this, you have to picture me very drunk. I don’t know what the driver thought initially, but he did get it at last, and then the hospital turned out to be less than a block away. He coasted forward and let us out. He was saying something as he drove off. We couldn’t understand it, but we could guess. 

The hospital was closed, but there was an intercom and we spoke on it to someone else who didn’t speak English. He begged us to be intelligible and then gave up and buzzed us in. All the hallways were dark, and we walked down several until we saw some lights in a waiting room. I used to have dreams like that, dark hallways, echoing footsteps. Labyrinths that twisted and circled, with the directions printed on the walls in some alien alphabet. I mean I had the dreams before this happened, and I still have them sometimes: I’m lost in a foreign city; people talk, but I can’t understand them.

So we followed the light and found a doctor, and he spoke English, which was a bit of luck, really. We explained about the ring and he stared at us. “You’re in internal medicine,” he said. “I’m a heart
surgeon.” I was prepared to go back to the hostel rather than put up with such embarrassment, but then it wasn’t my finger. (Though it was my ring.) But Conor— that was his name—was not leaving. 

“It hurts more than I can say,” he said. Which is sort of a koan, if you think about it..."


Shall we take the day off and read?

And then watch the movie ?

Congrats dear Jane!

hot rio chick birthday candles
238 candles can only mean a big big cake!

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, 13 de dezembro de 2013

The mists of Avalon -


Rio is deep in the mists... Unfortunately not as poetically as Avalon but due to the heavy rains of the other day, chaos is installed.
That's how we move along the city last Tuesday...

hot rio chick
kiss, kiss, kiss!!!

Marion ZimMer Bradley's series seemed to be the right pick for today's post because it shows several crisis and several come backs, strength and love. And Lancelot... 

Ah... Lancelot!
mists of avalon

He was Alias' Vaughn... 

hot rio chick
why so much handsomeness?......

Anyway, let me give you...

40 PAGES 40

chapter 3
page 40

"Gorlois grunted assent.

"Your lady wife, Gorlois?"

Reluctantly, churlishly, Gorlois said, "Igraine, my dear, this is our war duke: Uther, whom the Tribes call Pendragon, from his banner."

She dropped him a curtsey, blinking with astonishment. Uther Pendragon, this ungainly man, fair as a Saxon? Was this the courtier
intended to succeed Ambrosius-this bumbling man who blundered in to disturb holy mass? Uther was staring-not, Igraine realized, at her face, but at something lower down, and Igraine, wondering if she had spilled communion wine on her gown, saw that he was staring at the moonstone on the breast of her mantle. She wondered sharply if he had never seen one before.

Gorlois, too, had noted the direction of his gaze. He said, "I would
like to present my lady to the King; a good day to you, my lord
Duke," and left without waiting for Uther's farewell. When they were out of earshot he said, "I like not the way he looks at you, Igraine. He is no man for a decent woman to know. Avoid him."

Igraine said, "He was not looking at me, my husband, but at the jewel I wore. Is he greedy for riches?"

"He is greedy for all things," Uther said shortly. Walking so swiftly
that Igraine's thin shoes stumbled on the stone street, they had
overtaken the royal party.

Ambrosius, surrounded by his priests and councillors, looked like any other elderly sick man who had gone fasting to mass and was ready for his breakfast and a place to sit down. He walked with one hand held to his side, as if it hurt him. But he smiled at Gorlois with real friendliness, and Igraine knew why the whole of Britain had made up their quarrels to serve under this man and fight away the Saxons from their shores.

"Why, Gorlois, are you back so swiftly from Cornwall? I had little
hope of seeing you here before the Council, or again in this world," he said. His voice was thin, breathy, but he held out his arms to Gorlois, who embraced the old man carefully, then blurted out, "You are ill, my lord, you should have kept your bed!""


Oh, how I miss these people...

Not the hair, though...

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, 11 de dezembro de 2013

A Abadia de Northanger

Chove muito lá fora, o Rio está quase submerso. Só faltam os escafandristas
hot rio chick
Sr Noé é nosso melhor candidato a prefeito.

Todo ano é isso: Dezembro de dias horrivelmente quentes e pés d´água. Mas estamos vivendo um BIG FOOT d´água. 

Ontem estava quente-tipo-suando-no-óculos-escuro, então calaro que ia chover... mas choveu por mais de 12hs... A cidade não aguenta isso, não...

Adriana Calcanhoto canta tão bonitinho... Nóis num gosta mermo...

Sabe como é, chuva a gente fica deprê. Então, que venha a fofa Ms Morland!

A página 40 de hoje: Ms Jane Austen e sua aventura gótica, com um gostinho de Tilney. (Yummy.)

hot rio chick jane austen


Jane Austen

Capítulo 12
página 40

"A mente de Catherine se tranquilizou muito com esta informação, ainda que algo de preocupação permanecesse, o que suscitou a seguinte pergunta, totalmente inocente em si mesma, embora bem incômoda ao cavalheiro: “Mas, senhor Tilney, por que você está menos generoso que sua irmã? Se ela sentia tanta confiança em minhas boas intenções, e pôde supor que tudo fosse apenas um erro, por que você está tão disposto a tomar como ofensa?”

“Eu! Tomar como ofensa!”

“Ah, estou certa pelo seu olhar, quando chegou à cabine, de que você estava bravo”.

“Eu, bravo? Eu não tinha direito”.

“Bem, ninguém teria pensado que você não tinha direito se vissem seu rosto”. Ele replicou ao pedir a ela que lhe desse lugar, e conversaram sobre a peça. 

Ele permaneceu com elas por algum tempo e foi somente agradável com Catherine, para que ela se contentasse, quando fosse embora. Antes de se despedirem, porém, concordaram que

o passeio programado deveria ocorrer o mais rápido possível. E, deixando de lado a tristeza por
ele deixar sua cabine, ela foi, no geral, deixada como uma das mais felizes criaturas no mundo.
Enquanto conversavam, ela observou, com alguma surpresa, que John Thorpe, que nunca ficava na mesma parte da casa por dez minutos, estava ocupado em conversar com o general Tilney, e ela sentiu algo mais do que surpresa quando pensou que pudesse ser objeto da atenção e do assunto deles. O que eles poderiam ter a dizer sobre ela? Ela temeu que o general Tilney não gostasse de sua aparência. Ela descobriu que isso estava implícito no fato de ele evitar que visse sua filha, em vez de adiar sua própria caminhada por poucos minutos. “Como o senhor Thorpe conhece seu pai?”, foi sua ansiosa pergunta, enquanto ela os apontava ao seu companheiro. Ele nada sabia sobre isso; mas seu pai, como todo militar, tinha muitos relacionamentos.

Quando a diversão terminou, Thorpe foi ajudá-las a sair. Catherine foi o objeto imediato de seu galanteio e, enquanto aguardavam na recepção por um assento, ele evitou a pergunta que viajou do coração até a ponta da língua dela, ao questionar, de modo cauteloso, que ela o viu falar com o general Tilney: “Ele é um ótimo senhor, pela minha alma! Robusto, ativo, parece ser tão jovem quanto seu filho. Tenho muita consideração por ele, eu lhe asseguro. Um cavalheiro e um bom tipo de gente como nunca existiu”.

“Mas como você veio a conhecê-lo?”

“Conhecê-lo! Há bem poucas pessoas na cidade que não conheço. Sempre o encontro em Bedford e o reconheci novamente assim que ele entrou na sala de bilhar. Um dos melhores jogadores que temos, a propósito. E tivemos pouco contato juntos, embora eu quase o temesse, no início. As chances eram de cinco a quatro contra mim, e se eu não tivesse feito uma das melhores tacadas talvez já feitas neste mundo – pois acertei exatamente sua bola, mas eu não poderia fazer você compreender sem uma mesa – eu teria sido derrotado. Um sujeito muito bom. Tão rico quanto um judeu. Gostaria de jantar com ele. Ouso dizer que ele dá ótimos jantares. Mas sobre o que você acha que estávamos falando? De você. Sim, pelos céus! E o general acha que você é a melhor garota em Bath”.

“Oh! Besteira! Como você pode dizer isso?”

“E o que você acha que eu disse?” – abaixando sua voz – “muito bem, general, eu disse; estou de acordo com você”.

Aqui, Catherine, que estava muito menos satisfeita com sua admiração do que com a do general Tilney, não lamentou ser chamada pelo senhor Allen. 

Thorpe, porém, iria somente vê-la

em sua cadeira e, até que ela entrasse, continuou com o mesmo tipo de delicada bajulação, apesar de ela lhe pedir que parasse.

Era muito prazeroso saber que o general Tilney a admirava, ao invés de detestá-la, e ela alegremente pensou que não havia ninguém mais na família a quem ela devesse temer encontrar.

A noite fez mais, muito mais, por ela do que esperava. 


E assim começa a aventura...

hot rio chick never fear, smith is here

Não sei se você já curtiu HOT RIO CHICK no Facebook, mas se não perdeu vários posts de trabalhos manuais para dias chuvosos quando falta saco, como hj. Vou dar uma colher de chá e postar aqui o MOLDE DE ESTAMPAR CANECA da Abadia, ok?

abadia northanger jane austen
basta levar numa loja de estampa de camisas/caneca, ou imprimir em transfer você mesmo.

Já entrou no SORTEIO DE NATAL?

christmas giveaway

Anúncio: 40 páginas 40 é meu jeitinho de engolir celebratr 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.

Northanger Abbey

it rains cats, dogs and elephants here in Rio.
hot rio chick
That's Mr Noah, my neighboor.

It's a recurrent problem, a carioca summer trait: awfully hot days = showers in the late afternoon/early evening. 

As yesterday was hotter-than-possible-to-endure, we were expecting rain but... it's puring non-stop since 10pm last night! And... Rio can't deal with 12hs raining...

As the cute song says, Cariocas don't like rain... We get gloomy...

Ah, well. Gloomy it is. Welcome dear sweet Ms Morland!

Today's 40th page: Ms Austen's gothical fun (and a touch of Tilney. Yummy.)

hot rio chick jane austen


Jane Austen

Chapter 13
page 40

"“Catherine, you must go,” said James.

“But why cannot Mr. Thorpe drive one of his other sisters? I dare say either of them would like to go.”

“Thank ye,” cried Thorpe, “but I did not come to Bath to drive my sisters about, and look like a fool. No, if you do not go, d... me if I do. I only go for the sake of driving you.”

“That is a compliment which gives me no pleasure.” But her words were lost on Thorpe, who had turned abruptly away. The three others still continued together, walking in a most uncomfortable manner to poor Catherine; sometimes not a word was said, sometimes she was again attacked with supplications or reproaches, and her arm was still linked within Isabella’s, though their hearts
were at war. At one moment she was softened, at another irritated; always distressed, but always steady.

“I did not think you had been so obstinate, Catherine,” said James; “you were not used to be so hard to persuade; you once were the kindest, best-tempered of my sisters.”

“I hope I am not less so now,” she replied, very feelingly; “but indeed I cannot go. If I am wrong, I am doing what I believe to be right.”

“I suspect,” said Isabella, in a low voice, “there is no great struggle.”

Catherine’s heart swelled; she drew away her arm, and Isabella made no opposition. Thus passed a long ten minutes, till they were again joined by Thorpe, who, coming to them with a gayer look, said, “Well, I have settled the matter, and now we may all go tomorrow with a safe conscience. I have been to Miss Tilney, and made your excuses.”

“You have not!” cried Catherine.

“I have, upon my soul. Left her this moment. Told her you had sent me to say that, having just recollected a prior engagement of going to Clifton with us tomorrow, you could not have the pleasure of walking with her till Tuesday. She said very well, Tuesday was just as convenient to her; so there is an end of all our difficulties. A pretty good thought of mine – hey?”

Isabella’s countenance was once more all smiles and good humour, and James too looked happy again.

“A most heavenly thought indeed! Now, my sweet Catherine, all our distresses are over; you are honourably acquitted, and we shall have a most delightful party.”

“This will not do,” said Catherine; “I cannot submit to this. I must run after Miss Tilney directly and set her right.”

Isabella, however, caught hold of one hand, Thorpe of the other, and remonstrances poured in from all three. Even James was quite angry. When everything was settled, when Miss Tilney herself said that Tuesday would suit her as well, it was quite ridiculous, quite absurd, to make any further objection.

“I do not care. Mr. Thorpe had no business to invent any such message. If I had thought it right to put it off, I could have spoken to Miss Tilney myself. This is only doing it in a ruder way; and how do I know that Mr. Thorpe has – He may be mistaken again perhaps; he led me into one act of rudeness by his mistake on Friday. Let me go, Mr. Thorpe; Isabella, do not hold me.”

Thorpe told her it would be in vain to go after the Tilneys; they were turning the corner into Brock Street, when he had overtaken them, and were at home by this time.

“Then I will go after them,” said Catherine; “wherever they are I will go after them. It does not signify talking. If I could not be persuaded into doing what I thought wrong, I never will be tricked into it.” And with these words she broke away and hurried off. Thorpe would have darted after her, but Morland withheld him. 

“Let her go, let her go, if she will go. She is as obstinate as...”
Thorpe never finished the simile, for it could hardly have been a proper one.

Away walked Catherine in great agitation, as fast as the crowd would permit her, fearful of being pursued, yet determined to persevere. As she walked, she reflected on what had passed. It was painful to her to disappoint and displease them, particularly to displease her brother; but she could not repent her resistance. "


Poor Miss Morland... in the hands of evil Thorpes...

hot rio chick never fear, smith is here

Never fear, Tilney is here. 
(or close by)


christmas giveaway

This lovely mug warmer can be sent to you by international mail. Try your luck!

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.

segunda-feira, 9 de dezembro de 2013

Christmas giveaway


Every year I join my Darcy friends in a Christmas Cards Swap. Twenty plus cards fly around the world back and forth carrying happy Austenian wishes of a better New year and a warm Christmas. 

Not that we need any wish for a warm Christmas here in Rio... It's already 37°C + and Summer only starts next week...

Anyway, look what I already got from  Argentina and USA:

roupa de caneca sorteio

Usually I buy a simple card and write a heartfelt message but my Darcy friends always send me lovely hand made cards or nice recipes for cookies or brownies... #ashamedOfMyLazyCards

This year I decided to try harder and...
I made a Christmas token! 
Lovely  mug warmers: a small sweet blanket to wrap around your favorite mug both to make it even nicer and to help keep your tea (or coffe) warm for a little while longer. All hand painted and embroidered (tsk, tsk) pour moi.

mug warmer giveaway

I really liked the final outcome... It took me a week to craft all the 20+ warmers... 
Did you like it?

sorteio roupa de caneca
Would you like to have one
with our adored JANE AUSTEN's profile embroidered?

My dear Nat from Cantinho Literário joined me in this giveaway... Do try!


-this is Raffle giveaway
-Winner will have 2 days to mail address and name to  natalcantarachagas@yahoo.com.br. Otherwise, we'll pick another winner.
-We won't accept fake or promotional profiles.
-Results on Christmas' Eve - Dec 24, 2013 both here and on Nat's blog.

Good luck! And merry Christmas!!!!!

domingo, 8 de dezembro de 2013


I've just finished Dan Brown's last book and I'd like to talk about it. Shall we?
hot rio chick dan brown

There are plenty of reviews on Google, I don't want to venture in these waters. I'm no good in reviews and suffer with some on my books. What I want to talk about is how different and similar it is to 'Da Vinci Code'.
hot rio chick dan brown
Hercule, Diomedes and the penile grip

The Da Vinci was the first Dan Brown I read and loved. The chase throughout Paris and the old theory on Jesus got me. I read it non-stop to the last word, even though I knew the outcome - a bit predictable but fun anyway.

Then I tried 'Angels and demons' and hated it. I felt let down... I even tried another, the one about a lab in the Smithonian or something... didn't finish.

Now I gave Mr. Brown a chance with 'Inferno' and liked it... in spite of the many many many interruptions. Let me explain: when Langdon and Sienna pass by the statue of Hercules and Diomedes at the Hall of 500, I don't need to read about the history behind it if it's not connected to the action.
hot rio chick dan brown
The horses at Saint Mark is a welcomed bit of history, but every little tiny detail on the Piazza they cross in a sprint... well, no. My new Darcy and Lizzy stroll Venice in a very different situation, they are courting each other and not running from a black army and I hope against hope my readers don't get overdistracted by minute descriptions of the fabulous scenery.

The Da Vinci code seemed more fluent with less interruptions - or is it the way I remember it? I got the impression that without these many flourished touristic info, the book would have 300pages and would flow easily.

I found on Google this cool multi media guide to all the million places and art work mentioned. It can be tricky without this aid. And it has a link to a zoomable Boticelli's Map.

All things considered, for me, Inferno was good fun.
What did you think?

hot rio chick dan brown


Dan Brown

Chapter 10
page 40

“Okay … I guess that beats ‘I am Vishnu, destroyer of worlds.’ ”

  The young woman had just quoted Robert Oppenheimer at the moment he tested the first atomic bomb.

  “And this beak-nosed … green-eyed mask?” Sienna said, looking puzzled. “Do you have any idea why your mind might have conjured that image?”

  “No idea at all, but that style of mask was quite common in the Middle Ages.” Langdon paused. “It’s called a plague mask.”

  Sienna looked strangely unnerved. “A plague mask?”

  Langdon quickly explained that in his world of symbols, the unique shape of the long-beaked mask was nearly synonymous with the Black Death—the deadly plague that swept through Europe in the 1300s, killing off a third of the population in some regions. Most believed the “black” in Black Death was a reference to the darkening of the victims’ flesh through gangrene and subepidermal hemorrhages, but in fact the word black was a reference to the profound emotional dread that the pandemic spread through the population.

  “That long-beaked mask,” Langdon said, “was worn by medieval plague doctors to keep the pestilence far from their nostrils while treating the infected. Nowadays, you only see them worn as costumes during Venice Carnevale—an eerie reminder of a grim period in Italy’s history.”

  “And you’re certain you saw one of these masks in your visions?” Sienna asked, her voice now tremulous. “A mask of a medieval plague doctor?”

  Langdon nodded. A beaked mask is hard to mistake.

  Sienna was knitting her brow in a way that gave Langdon the sense she was trying to figure out how best to give him some bad news. “And the woman kept telling you to ‘seek and find’?”

  “Yes. Just as before. But the problem is, I have no idea what I’m supposed to seek.”

  Sienna let out a long slow breath, her expression grave. “I think I may know. And what’s more … I think you may have already found it.”

  Langdon stared. “What are you talking about?!”

  “Robert, last night when you arrived at the hospital, you were carrying something unusual in your jacket pocket. Do you recall what it was?"

Really intriguing...
As inriguing as this sunken palace...
hot rio chick dan brown

  see ya!

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.