Funny, I always thought Jane Austen was the author who had the biggest legion of owners in the world, but I never considered myself one of these adorably deranged people. Mr Darcy, yes, I do claim ownership on him - at least the ones I create; but Miss Austen, no.
Today I attended a Jane Austen lovers in Rio meeting and found myself forrowing my brows and twisting my nose to what was lectured. Oh. My. God. I also pressed my eyes. Dear Lord, I'm Lady Catherine!!! *freaking out here*
After years studying Austen's works (P&P in special) I learned that Austen is everything but light, and romance novel-like or parody. But, really, what do I know?
I merely have an unhealthy fixation on Darcy and Lizzy - probably more on their 'ardent connection' than anything else. Still, there I was thinking 'in the Berkeley course, it was said THAT was wrong' or 'when the other group discussed Northanger, we concluded differently'.
Oh, I felt bad...
The fact that Austen is discussed in Brasil over 200 years after her novels were first published is so amazing, isn't it? A writer whose works are in a foreign language can unite 20 people in a rainy Sunday is admirable. Amongst them, several quoting absolute truths in terms of England's historical and societal accuracy... I don't want to put myself in this throne.
I DON'T OWN JANE AUSTEN!
That's my new mantra!
Owmmmmm... I don't own Jane Austen! Owmmmm... I refuse to think I do! Owmmmm...
Let me not mention here the criticizing and bad mouthing of other Austen authors beside the one lecturing the event, that will take me years to swallow. Damn! (In case you're wondering, I stayed incognito. My hubs says it's proof of maturity.) In suma, I spent an afternoon exercising my poker face (poorly) and detachment.
Owmmmmm... I don't own Jane Austen! Owmmmm... I refuse to think I do! Owmmmm...
Olá, feliz Ano Novo! Até tenho uma coisa muito legal para contar do Réveillon, mas vinha com preguiça de postar. Agora tenho um sorteio também... Vamos lá!
minha estante de obras... tudo tão lindo!...
2016 começou cheio de fofura para mim. Além da borboleta amarela que se enamorou de mim e com ela todos as promessas de transformação e boa sorte, na ceia de Réveillon que fizemos aqui em casa tive a surpresa de apresentar Austen para uma menina de 16 anos.
No meio de uma conversa animada, o pessoal achou minha estante de obras (uau, tenho uma!) e a menina - con-cunhada de um primo - ficou encantada com '45 dias na Europa com Sr. Darcy'. Nunca tinha ouvido falar de O&P nem de Austen, pediu para comprar, autógrafo, marcadores, bolsinha, tudo... Fiquei... Encantada!
Começar 2016 apresentando Austen para alguém, introduzir o amor a Sr. Darcy através do meu... Nossa, morri! E para comemorar, a lindinha Sá publicou sua resenha do livro e está fazendo um sorteio fofo. Eu e as meninas resolvemos oferecer uma cópia do '3 chances para o amor', mais marcadores variados. Corre, vai lá se inscrever.
A roller-coaster of emotions and uncertainty, this year has worn me out! Can't say I'm sad to celebrate it's end in a little less than 4 hours. If it's already done for you, I say 'lucky you'!
uproxx
I started this year finishing the first draft of my 'Prince of Pemberley' after spending 2014 writing and re-writing and feeling stuck in the plot. If you've been reading it, the worst part for me was the moment Darcy asks Elizabeth to divorce her husband, from them on, it took me a great while to finish. Anyway, I started the year posting The Prince of Pemberley, and by April I had the unfortunate surprise of being (veiled) accused of copying someone else's plot (oh, dear), then released the Portuguese version of '45 days in Europe with Mr. Darcy', then took part in the National Book Fair here in Rio with 3 of my books, then my muse was struck by a lightning and I wrote 3 news books almost in a coupe! It was a creative burst - in 3 months I wrote 'Prejudice, Pride and Coffee' (a story where Lizzy is the rich one, originally written in Portuguese with Rio de Janeiro as their lover), 'Love in Acts' (my first Regency stories - 3 interconnected and independent) and '45 hours in Johannesburg with Mr. Darcy' (a short story to compose a cute little book with friends).
vgum
Wow... all that while Brasil is facing a huge horrendous political and moral crisis to make us ashamed of the world. And professionally... let´s not go there. So, 2015 was so overwhelming I started to look forward for 2016 in November. Just this week I hit the pool with my child and friends and a yellow butterfly felt in love with me. No matter how many kids hovered around me, how many people arrived close, the little delicate yellow butterfly stick to my hat.
heroes and heartbreakers
I need good vibes and usually use yellow during Réveillon so...
Say Geronimo!
There was also Rock in Rio this year and during the festival I met the cute group Sheppard. This song is just what I want to shout today when 2016 starts, it's just what 'The Prince of Pemberley' talks about, what the lovely couple from 'Prejudice, Pride and Coffee' do when they meet, what the couples from 2 out of 3 from 'Love in Acts' do: take the plunge.
leap into the unknown
believe in faith
risk it all in the hopes of something bigger and better and new and bright
Em pleno verão, calorão no Rio de Janeiro, euzinha ficando mais velhinha! Olha, 40+ é assustador, mas vou indo bem. Este ano completo 10 livros auto-publicados, incontáveis contos e estórias registradas na FBN, família linda, projetos bacanas... É, 42 até que é um número promissor! Para comemorar e encerrar essa nova etapa no 40 páginas 40, vai o meu livro novo que nasceu da amizade de mulheres lindas que amam Mr. Darcy. Nos conhecemos nas comunidades de JAFF e ficamos íntimas; são minhas betas, minhas confidentes, minhas parceiras. Luciana e Schirlei falam comigo diariamente e sempre temos o que fofocar... A página 40 seria o climax do conto da Luciana que abre ao livro - já leu a introdução? Está free na Amazon... lê lá pra sentir a vibe do livrinho. Então vou postar a página 4 do meu - uma olhadela em Lizzard e Will de '45 dias na Europa com Sr Darcy' 1 ano e meio após o último capítulo.
Ele sacudiu a cabeça
para a gata deitada sobre ele, cabelo jogado no colchão, sorrindo, olhos
brilhando com a excitação da viagem iminente, sem maquiagem, confortável em
estar com ele na sua casa; tão lindinha. Eram em momentos assim, abraçados e
falando de nada em particular, rindo, implicando um com o outro ou fazendo
piada, que ele tinha certeza de ter encontrado a garota certa. Fazia-lhe bem
passar tempo com ela e saber que ela gostava de passar tempo com ele, que confiava
nele apesar da irritante mania de questionar tudo. Matar tempo ao lado dela era
o mais próximo que ele havia conseguido chegar de se sentir completo.
‘Se quiser, peço para
juntar pene na salada.’ Ela esticou o braço dele para usar como travesseiro, beijou
a tatuagem com seu nome e deitou a cabeça, quadris ainda sobre os dele. ‘Quer?’
Ele sacudiu a cabeça
sentindo arrepiar a nuca. Ela mal fazia ideia do poder que tinha sobre ele, do
quanto ele se colocava em suas mãos. Os pais dela sabiam, vinham marcando em
cima, tomando cuidado para que ele não colocasse o carro na frente dos bois e acabasse por estragar tudo; e Darcy
vinha dando duro para conquistar os pais a fim de manter a gata. Viver sem ela
seria impossível, haviam sido realmente feitos um para o outro.
‘Vai deixar a barba
crescer na viagem? Sempre reclama de não poder usar o barbeador elétrico todo
dia...’ Ela correu os dedos no queixo já escuro, haviam dois dias que ele não
se barbeava. Como o namorado deu de ombros, ela o beijou de leve, bem no bigode
entre o nariz e lábio superior. ‘Gato de barba e moto, eu gosto.’ Apesar de
satisfeito com o elogio, ele permaneceu mudo, olhos vidrados nela. ‘Está tão
quieto...’ Ela desconfiou.
‘Pensando.’
‘Besteira, aposto!’
Ela abriu um sorriso maroto.
‘Em você!’
‘Prego!’ Ela mordeu o
braço dele e se moveu para levantar.
Ele a puxou pela
cintura e, rindo, ela caiu de volta por cima dele. ‘Estou pensando que o tempão
sendo maltratado por você valeu a pena, que faz um ano e meio que sou muito
feliz.’
‘Oh, que lindo!’ Ela o
abraçou o pescoço e distribuiu beijos nos lábios, na barba por fazer, na base
da orelha do namorado. ‘Esse sotaque é tão sexy, e você é tão prego... Tão
gostoso!’ Ele riu e ela lhe mordeu a orelha. ‘Vamos almoçar!’
---
Anúncio: 40 páginas 40 é meu jeitinho de engolir celebrar meu aniversário de 40 anos.
Na verdade, 42 agora... mas vamos que vamos.
Divulgando esses 40 livros bacanérrimos, de maneira nenhuma quero prejudicar os autores.
Se você, como eu, gosta do que lê, compre o livro!
Todos os 40 livros estão listados aqui na barra lateral. ►
One day I found myself with time to kill and surprisingly found an interesting movie on TV. It was Beauty and Beast 2014 with Vincent Cassel and I was enraptured! It's not my fave fairy tale (I love Cinderella) but I got so enchanted with the movie that I searched the original tale. Didn't find it, found old ones but not the one, and in my search I found countless books inspired by Belle and Beast. I read several and now I post one of my fave:
In all the years since his father had packed him off
to Eton, no woman had ever done anything to or for him until he’d put money in
her hand. Or—as in the case of the one respectable female he’d been so
misguided as to pursue nearly eight years ago—unless he signed papers putting
his body, soul, and fortune into said hands.
Miss Jessica Trent was holding on to him as though her
life depended upon it and kissing him as though the world would come to an end
if she stopped, and there was no “unless” or “until” about it.
Bewildered and heated at once, he moved his big hands unsteadily
over her back and shaped his trembling fingers to her deliciously dainty waist.
He had never before held anything like her—so sweetly slim and supple and
curved to delicate perfection. His chest tightened and ached and he wanted to
weep.
Sognavo di te.
I’ve dreamed of you.
Ti desideravo nelle mia
braccia dal primo momento che ti
vedi.
I’ve wanted you in my arms since the moment I met you.
He stood, helpless in the driving rain, unable to rule
his needy mouth, his restless hands, while, within, his heart beat out the
mortifying truth.
Ho bisogno di te.
I need you.
As though that last were an outrage so monstrous that even
the generally negligent Almighty could not let it pass, a blast of light rent
the darkness, followed immediately by a violent crash that shook the pavement.
She jerked away and stumbled back, her hand clapped to
her mouth.
“Jess,” he said, reaching out to bring her back. “Cara, I—”
“No. Oh, God.” She shoved her wet hair out of her
face. “Damn you, Dain.” Then she turned and fled.
Jessica Trent was a young woman who faced facts, and
as she mounted, dripping, the stairs to her brother’s appartement, she faced them.
First, she had leapt at the first excuse to hunt down
Lord Dain.
Second, she had sunk into a profound depression,
succeeded almost instantly by jealous rage, because she’d found two women
sitting in his lap.
Third, she had very nearly wept when he’d spoken
slightingly of her attractions and called her “a ha’pennyworth of a chit.”
Fourth, she had goaded him into assaulting her.
Fifth, she had very nearly choked him to death,
demanding the assault continue.
Sixth, it had taken a bolt of lightning to knock her
loose.
By the time she came to the appartement door, she was strongly tempted to
dash her brains out against it.
“Idiot, idiot, idiot,” she muttered, pounding on the
portal. Withers opened it. His mouth fell open. “Withers,” she said, “I have
failed you.” She marched into the apartment. “Where is Flora?”
“Oh, dear.” Withers looked helplessly about him.
“Ah, then she hasn’t returned. Not that I am the least
surprised.”
Jessica headed for her grandmother’s room. “In fact, if
my poor maid makes the driver take her direct to Calais and row her across the
Channel, I should not blame her a whit.” She rapped at Genevieve’s door.
Her grandmother opened it, gazed at her for a long
moment, then turned to Withers. “Miss Trent
requires a hot bath,” she said. “Have someone see to it—quickly—if
you please.”
Then she took Jessica’s arm, tugged her inside, sat
her down, and pulled off her sodden boots.
“I will go to that party,” said Jessica, fumbling with her pelisse
buckles. “Dain can make a fool of me if he likes, but he will not ruin my
evening. I don’t care if all of Paris saw.
He’s the one who ought to be embarrassed—running
halfnaked down the street. And when I reminded him that he was half-naked, what
do you think he did?”
“My dear, I cannot imagine.” Genevieve quickly worked the
silk stockings off.
Jessica told her about the leisurely trouser
unbuttoning. Genevieve went into whoops of laughter.
Jessica frowned at her. “It was very difficult to keep
a straight face—but that wasn’t the hardest part. The hardest part was—” She
let out a sigh. “Oh, Genevieve. He was so adorable. I wanted to kiss him. Right on his big, beautiful nose. And then
everywhere else. It was so frustrating. I had made up my mind not to lose my
temper, but I did. And so I beat him and beat him until he kissed me. And then
I kept on beating him until he did it properly. And I had better tell you,
mortifying as it is to admit, that if we had not been
struck by lightning—or very nearly—I should be utterly
ruined. Against a lamppost. On the Rue de Provence. And the horrible part
is”—she groaned—“I wish I had been.”
“I know,” Genevieve said soothingly. “Believe me,
dear, I know.” She stripped off the rest of the garments—Jessica being
incapable of doing much besides babbling and staring stupidly at the
furniture—wrapped her in a dressing gown, planted her in a chair by the fire,
and ordered brandy.
About half an hour after Jessica Trent had fled him,
Lord Dain, drenched to the skin and clutching a mangled bonnet, stalked through
the door a trembling Herbert opened for him. Ignoring the footman, the marquess
marched down the hall and up the stairs and down another hall to his bedroom.
---
Disclaimer: 40 pages 40 was my way to celebrate my 40th birthday. Now I continue it with 4 more although i'm turning 42.
It's not easy to accept that 'young' no longer describes me...
By promoting 44 awesome books I like in no way I intend to dupe the original authors. If you, as me, like what you read, buy them! (specially mine)
All 44 books can be found on the right side bar. ►
All images found on Google. Kudos to the original poster.
So, here I am, on the verge of 42... Oh, dear! When I turned 24, I was celebrating my first anniversary and now!... Oh, so much has gone by. Anyways, here is another delightful book alhough I must say that one way or another, Julia Quinn always keeps me in my toes. In this book, Bridgertons #2, I loooved Anthony because he was a cad - really. He flirted with his lover before a crowd, he kicked Kate, he planned to marry her sister but obviously flirted with her... Oh, my! Loved him. BUT hated how Kate was always the underdog, how she never had anything to recomend her (see, I'm quite regency here!). This is a problem many P&P fanfic have... also, why did Kate need to be transformed into a kitten once he was secured? That killed me... The mallet of death, though... delightful.
“Knowing
is rarely a prerequisite for hating,” he said softly, his yes settling on hers
with lethal steadiness. “Come now, Miss Sheffield, you don’t seem a coward to
me. Answer the question.”
Kate
held silent for a full minute. It was true, she had not been predisposed to
like the man. Shecertainly wasn’t
about to give her blessing to his courtship of Edwina. She didn’t believe for
one second that reformed rakes made the best husbands. She wasn’t even sure
that a rake could be properly reformed in the first place.
But
he might have been able to overcome her preconceptions. He could have been
charming and sincere and straightforward, and been able to convince her that
the stories about him in Whistledown
were an exaggeration, that he was not the
worst rogue London had seen since the turn of the century.
He
might have convinced her that he held to a code of honor, that he was a man of
principles and honesty…
If
he hadn’t gone and compared her to Edwina.
For
nothing could have been more obvious a lie. She knew she wasn’t an antidote;
her face and form were pleasing enough. But there was simply no way she could
be compared to Edwina in this measure and emerge as her equal. Edwina was truly
a diamond of the first water, and Kate could never be more than average and
unremarkable.
And
if this man was saying otherwise, then he had some ulterior motive, because it
was obvious he wasn’t blind.
He
could have offered her any other empty compliment and she would have accepted
it as a gentleman’s polite conversation. She might have even been flattered if
his words had struck anywhere close to the truth. But to compare her to Edwina…
Kate
adored her sister. She truly did. And she knew better than anyone that Edwina’s
heart was as beautiful and radiant as her face. She didn’t like to think
herself jealous, but still…somehow the comparison stung right to the core.
“I
do not hate you,” she finally replied. Her eyes were trained on his chin, but
she had no patience for cowardice, especially within herself, so she forced
herself to meet his gaze when she added, “But I find I cannot like you.”
Something
in his eyes told her that he appreciated her stark honesty. “And why is that?”
he asked softly.
“May
I be frank?”
His
lips twitched. “Please do.”
“You
are dancing with me right now because you wish to court my sister. This does
not bother me,” she hastened to assure him. “I am well used to receiving
attentions from Edwina’s suitors.”
---
lovely! Found on Pinterest
---
Disclaimer: 40 pages 40 was my way to celebrate my 40th birthday. Now I continue it with 4 more although i'm turning 42.
It's not easy to accept that 'young' no longer describes me...
By promoting 44 awesome books I like in no way I intend to dupe the original authors. If you, as me, like what you read, buy them! (specially mine)
All 44 books can be found on the right side bar. ►
All images found on Google. Kudos to the original poster.
Let's meet for drinks and talk about hot men and gorgeous cads?
*insert Mrs.Bennet wink*
I've been asked to take part in a big giveaway to celebrate this date - my gift will be the Portuguese version of '45 days in Europe with Mr. Darcy' - and that should be celebration enough IF my own birthday wouldn't be in three days! Jane turns 240 today, the 16th, and I turn 42 (very sad sigh) Saturday the 19th. Coincidences galore: not only the same week but both our years sum up to '6'. In numerology, 6 is THE CARETAKER: responsible, self-sacrificing, loving, protective but also anxious, worrisome, suspicious and paranoid. Well, I can admit to some of these traits... So you know who would love this? The Prince of Pemberley's Lizzy. She's all into vibes and horoscopes and Darcy always say: 'Stop overthinking, it's bollocks.' *harrumph* Men!... *eyeroll* Anyway, as celebration, I'll continue my lovely collection of pages - no longer 40th page: the 42nd! I've posted The Prince a lot, and now to celebrate both Jane's and mine b-day, I can't post the 42nd page again... Therefore, I'll be giving you a very sexy loving and funny tidbit, right down to the end of BOOK 2... we can say it's the 42nd page from back forward.
Darcy took a few deep breaths to calm his
racing heart, passed one leg over hers and held her hips. The image of
Elizabeth touching herself as they were connected still played in his mind. ‘Do
you do it often?’
‘Mmmm?...’ She asked.
‘Play with yourself.’ He insisted.
She frowned and shrugged. ‘We are mostly
apart, and I miss you.’ She said, her voice low but sounding perfectly clear to
him since her mouth was so close. ‘Don’t you?’
‘Huh.’ He said noncommittally and she
understood as a reluctant ‘yes’.
It had been so unexpected, so surprising.
He had never thought she would need anything other than him. Elizabeth
frequently said he had taught her so much; he was so good and hot in her eyes…
how come she needed to touch herself when he was inside her? Wasn’t he enough?
‘Next time, ask and I’ll do it.’
She frowned again. ‘Ask you what?’
‘To touch you.’ He frowned deeply. ‘It’s
one of the newly found pleasures in my life.’
She chuckled and rose on an elbow. ‘Jealous?’
‘Huh.’ He crossed his arms over his chest.
‘Can I tell you a secret?’ She asked, one
eye brow higher than the other.
‘Of course.’ He was still serious.
‘After a long search I found a B.O.B. that’s very similar to you…’ She
smiled saucily. ‘Of course, the real thing is superb but in size…’ She lowered
her eyes and touched his deflating member. ‘Yep, pretty much the right size.’
Darcy, who was frowning expecting what
would come from such a malicious smile on her pretty face, made a disgusted
expression. At first he didn’t understand what ‘B.O.B.’ meant, but when he did,
he was appalled.
Her eyes returned to his face and seeing
his expression, she gave him a funny smile. ‘That’s a useful toy, King. We spend
a lot of time apart.’
‘You use a dildo thinking of me?’ He asked
trying to soften his expression. The thing was that, with her, he felt so
relaxed that it was hard to keep his reactions hidden. She made him feel at home,
safe from threats and devoid of his inherent need to keep on guard.
She shrugged. ‘I miss you. Sometimes my
imagination is not enough and I need a more… concrete stimulus.’ She wiggled
her brows once.
‘Huh.’ He grumbled and averted his eyes to
the ceiling again.
Elizabeth sighed. ‘What’s ‘huh’?’ She got
up and walked to the mini-fridge to get a bottle of sparkling water. She turned
back to him, opened the bottle, took a sip and still Darcy was silently
frowning at the ceiling hugging his chest. ‘Tell me what you’re thinking.’
He shrugged and kept silent.
She took another sip, admired his naked
body and waited a few seconds until her patience gave away. She walked closer
to his side and poked his foot with hers.
‘I don’t know.’ He finally said.
Elizabeth shook her head and took a seat
close to him. ‘I don’t expect the cure for Ebola. Just tell me what’s in your
head.’
‘Huh.’
‘Urgh!’ She nudged his waist in a fierce
roar.
How could he explain the conflicting
emotions running inside him? He was irrationally jealous, feeling irrationally
threatened, irrationally guilty of witnessing her private moment, curious,
horny, spent. ‘I want to see it.’ He said taking the bottle from her hand and
raising his torso enough to take a sip.
‘My BOB?’ She raised her brows.
‘Yes.’ He gave her back the bottle thinking
that if the object was similar to
him, he needed to inspect it, after all, the object pleased his woman… Wait, she said ‘long search’… It meant she considered others and compared… “Oh, hell!” Darcy squinted at her. ‘That’s
why I got a blowjob that easy in Brasília? You were measuring me.’
She was swallowing water and almost choked
on her laughter.
He squinted in silence.
---
From today until my birthday, I'll keep posting 42nd pages to complement my list. In fact I had to post only 2 books but since I am releasing two books this week, I'll post 4: my two and two others I enjoy.
elegance of fashion
Here she is!
Happy b-day, Jane!
Disclaimer: 40 pages 40 was my way to celebrate my 40th birthday. Now I continue it with 4 more.
It's not easy to accept that 'young' no longer describes me...
By promoting 44 awesome books I like in no way I intend to dupe the original authors. If you, as me, like what you read, buy them! (specially mine)
All 44 books can be found on the right side bar. ►
All images found on Google. Kudos to the original poster.
