Rio 2 Quotes

Rio: – What the hell is the point of worrying about it? I don’t see Geer or Pang or Stick moping. Jen: – No, […]. They’re all busy being men. […] We’re not men, Rio. We don’t have to be men.

She’d surrendered her life, her thoughts, worries, and burdens to God a long time ago. She shouldn’t be trying to take them back, like she’d often done.

Bye, princesa.” “Bye, Rio,” I whisper.

Rio chuckled. “Are there Doms and subs on Ariel?” Nella blinked up at him. “I really have no idea. I don’t think we’ve done a survey.

Rio stroked Nella’s thigh again while he looked at her with eyes dark blue and unreadable. His lips quirked into a smile. “Damn,” he said. “Did you all hear that? My girl’s a princess.

Like Mardi Gras and Halloween rolled into a public party at the Playboy mansion, Rio during Carnaval is like no other place on earth. And the freak-flags fly like the color guard of an invading army.

Are Shareem slaves?” she asked. Slavery had been outlawed for millennia on Ariel, but she knew that some planetary systems still practiced it. “No,” Talan said quickly. “Well,” Rio drawled. “We can be if you want.

Give the man a fucking Oscar then.” Rio’s eyes continue to flicker to my roommate. “As much as it’d be an absolute honor to be punched in the face by Ryan Shay, I don’t know that a fundraiser is the best place for that.

I love you, Rio,” Nella whispered, barely able to form the words. “Love you too, baby,” Rio said, his voice as broken as hers. “I’ve known that a long time.” He grinned. “You know what I didn’t know? I really hate space travel.

O seu nome é Jacob Ellis Hale, penso. Você nasceu em Strathclyde, Nova York. Há dois anos e meio, você mergulhou no rio, e, no ano passado, me tirou de lá. Você é meu melhor amigo. Na vida. Na morte. E durante tudo que acontecer no meio do caminho.

Shall we go, then?” Aiden asked. Rio shot him an amused glance. “You talk so hoity-toity, Aiden. Shall we go? We shall get our asses down to Nella’s bedroom, yes.” Nella smiled and warmed all over. No other man in her life had made her laugh like Rio did.

Rio dragged her to her feet and held her close, the chain between her wrists clinking. Rio tumbled her hair under his hands and kissed her face. “Mine,” he said. “You’re all mine, Nella.” Nella nodded as he feathered kisses across her cheeks. “It’s what I wanted,” she whispered. “What I truly wanted.

It doesn't have to mean anything to you to mean something to me.

Rio crouched beside Nella’s left knee, leather stretching over his thighs. He rested his hand on her leg. “You don’t need to be afraid of us.” His hand was large and warm. A need to relax flowed through her, a need to trust, to put her fate in his so-strong hands. “Yes, she does,” Rees said softly. “Pay no attention to the man with the large hard-on,” Rio said.

When you grow up Indian, you quickly learn that the so-called American Dream isn't for you. For you that dream's a nightmare. Ask any Indian kid: you're out just walking across the street of some little off-reservation town and there's this white cop suddenly comes up to you, grabs you by your long hair, pushes you up against a car, frisks you, gives you a couple good jabs in the ribs with his nightstick, then sends you off with a warning sneer: "Watch yourself, Tonto!" He doesn't do that to white kids, just Indians. You can hear him chuckling with delight as you limp off, clutching your bruised ribs. If you talk smart when they hassle you, off to the slammer you go. Keep these Injuns in their place, you know. Truth is, they actually need us. Who else would they fill up their jails and prisons with in places like the Dakotas and New Mexico if they didn't have Indians? Think of all the cops and judges and guards and lawyers who'd be out of work if they didn't have Indians to oppress! We keep the system going. We help give the American system of injustice the criminals it needs. At least being prison fodder is some kind of reason for being. Prison's the only university, the only finishing school many young Indian brothers ever see. Same for blacks and Latinos. So-called Latinos, of course, are what white man calls Indians who live south of the Rio Grande. White man's books will tell you there are only 2.5 million or so of us Indians here in America. But there are more than 200 million of us right here in this Western Hemisphere, in the Americas, and hundreds of millions more indigenous peoples around this Mother Earth. We are the Original People. We are one of the fingers on the hand of humankind. Why is it we are unrepresented in our own lands, and without a seat — or many seats — in the United Nations? Why is it we're allowed to send our delegates only to prisons and to cemeteries?

One thing to be said for Baine was that he couldn’t care less whether the people in his elevator were clothed or unclothed, so Rio was spared the computer’s snide comments. Baine did know about sex, though. As Rio carried Nella out of the lift, Baine muttered, “ Computer interface is so much easier.” “What did he say?” Nella asked as Rio set her on her bed. “Bad machine-language joke. Ignore him.

Who is Baine?” Nella asked. “My computer,” Dr. Laas said. “A man I had an affair with programmed the voice in before he left. I told him to go, you see, and this was his revenge. Baine sounds just like him.” “Do not insult me,”   Baine answered.  “ I am a thousand times superior to your fly-by-night lover. He is now in jail on Station 1217, by the way, for indecent exposure.” “Really?” Dr. Laas brightened. “How delightful.

Dr. Laas made a modest shrug. “I and a few fellow scientists came up with the design for Shareem. Rio and Rees were some of our very best.” The woman’s startled gaze flicked back to Rio. “Are they androids? Not real?” “Oh, I’m real, darlin’,” Rio said softly. “Very, very real. I think you saw how real.” She drew a breath. “I think I don’t understand.” Dr. Laas opened her hands. “The Shareem might have been a mistake. Maybe we got carried away playing gods.” Her smile turned wicked. “But oh, what workmanship.” “Thank you,” Rio said dryly.

Rio caught her in his arms and pushed her inside, closing his eyes as he pulled her body against his, her scent filling him. Her hood fell back, revealing her brilliant red hair, which glistened in the strong sunlight of Bor Narga before the door shut on them both. Rio held her close, his heart thumping with joy and excitement and relief. Nella was crying, tears streaking silently down her beautiful face from her bright green eyes. He wiped away the moisture with his thumb. “Hey, baby,” he said, his lips grazing hers. She tasted so damn good. “Miss me?

Nella swallowed. “Who are you?” “Rio,” he said. “Who are you?” His voice, soft and seductive, held a hint of hidden wickedness. With difficulty, Nella clamped her lips shut. She could not reveal her true name— not yet, until she was certain who he worked for. “I’m . . .” She stopped, her mouth trying to form the right name anyway. Her brain felt thick, as though perfumed tendrils wove through it. “Yours,” she finished. Rio’s eyes flickered. “That’s dangerous, beautiful. Very dangerous.” Nella didn’t care. Right now, she wanted every inch of danger he could give her.

Once they were inside the park Bay asked, “Isn’t there a store at the Rio Grande Village?” “What is it you need?” “Chocolate.” “It’s a hundred degrees in the shade,” he said. “Chocolate is going to melt.” “Well, actually, it isn’t chocolate I need. It’s something else. I didn’t want to embarrass you.” “What?” “Tampax.” He eyed her sideways. “Why didn’t you bring some from home? Or pick some up at the safeway?” She flushed. “I didn’t think of it. Not that it’s any of your business, but my periods aren’t regular.” He made a disgusted sound. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to bring you along.

A veces es necesario que un amor solo nos toque a quienes lo vivimos. Es algo que aprendí de los fracasos. Eso y que no quiero amores grandes, pasiones desmedidas y emociones por encima de lo humano. Quiero amar pequeñito, bien, bonito. Quiero que la pasión solo me desborde la boca de tanto beso, mordisco y gemido, y que las emociones sean siempre manejables para entender lo que siento y, así, sentirlo más. A veces creo que nos engañan. El amor no tiene que ser duro ni doler; el amor tiene que mecernos, hacernos reír y ser hogar. De quienes me digan que eso es aburrido, me rio yo en su cara. Aprenderlo me hizo madurar y entender los errores que había cometido.

So when do we get married?” Rio asked, nuzzling her cheek. “This Bond thing is telling me to hurry up.” “You truly want it?” He caught her gaze, his own softening. “Yes.” Nella’s heart swelled with warmth, happiness. “Right away. Tomorrow, if you want.” “Good. We’ll do it fast, then break it to your mother and father that you Bonded with a Shareem.” “They will already know,” Nella said, laughing. “Everything that happens in the Gallery of Light is broadcast throughout the palace. The news of our Bonding will probably be all over the feeds by morning.” “Shit,” Rio said, then he grinned. “Good thing I’ve got a great ass.” “It’s beautiful.” “Glad you like it.

Rio lowered his head and licked Nella from her shoulder to her neck. “You feel it,” he whispered. “You feel her wanting him. I can feel you feeling it.” He chuckled. “You can feel me feeling you feel it.” His leggings stretched over his cock, huge and stiff, the length of it pressing her backside. “You want me there,” he said. “Yes.” “You don’t know why, and you are not ready to take me. I’d hurt you if I took you now.” Nella dragged in a breath. His tongue moved to her ear, tracing the shell of it, breath burning. “It would hurt,” he said. “And you’d love it. I’m Shareem. I could   make you love it.” “Yes,” she gasped. “But I won’t.” He teased the tips of her breasts with slow touches. “I’ll never hurt you. I’ll give you only the good kind of hurt.

Why should you be a prisoner?” Rio reached again to the burning red of her hair. “’ Course, you can be one if you want to be. I could wrap you in chains and promise to let you go after I’ve pleasured you countless times. The more you begged me to release you, the longer I’d keep you bound.” Her eyes were round, caught between panic and desire. Her breath smelled good, spicy and salty. She probably tasted just as good. Rio leaned down and gently brushed his tongue across her lower lip. She gasped and jerked back, and he sensed her body sending her conflicting messages.   Be afraid of this man,   it was telling her, at the same time it urged her,   Let him do as he likes. She wanted him, and she didn’t want to want him. “Rio,” Dr. Laas’ wry voice came from across the room. “The poor woman just got over alkaloid poisoning. Give her a few minutes.

A level three asking a level one for advice? What happened? Did your whip malfunction?” “Stop it, I’m laughing so hard.” Rio set down his ale glass, licking the spicy ale from his lips. “Here’s the thing. I’m sexy as hell, I have women crawling at my feet, begging for me. I can make them orgasm by looking at them and telling them they want to. What I don’t know how to do is . . . touch them.” “What are you talking about? You touch women all the time.” Rio shook his head. “No, I fuck them. I tease them. I spank them. I don’t touch them.” “Ah, I think I see what you mean. Who’s the woman?” “A gorgeous, redheaded virgin.” Rio broke off. “I don’t know why, but she’s made me more turned on than I’ve ever been in my life.” No, he did know why. She was beautiful, sweet, lickable and he wanted to fuck her and fuck her until he couldn’t take any more. “Uh-oh,” Aiden said. “What uh-oh? And wipe that grin off your face.

With effort, Nella shoved the vision aside. “Never.” She drew herself up. “I am a princess of Ariel. I would never—” “Yes, you would. You will. But I’m glad to hear you get mad at me. That means whoever is chasing you, whoever is trying to make you his slave didn’t break you. You’re whole and strong.” “Then why do   you   want to break me?” “I don’t.” Rio stepped closer to her. “I want you to submit to me.” “What is the difference?” “There’s a big difference. Submission is complete trust. It’s giving yourself and your pleasure to the hands of your lover. You’ll free yourself, and give yourself entirely to me.” “If it is so freeing, why do you not submit yourself?” Rio laughed, a sound so filled with mirth it made her want to smile along. “Tell you what, beautiful. You submit wholly and completely to me— let me train you to be my sub— then I’ll submit to you.” Nella gave him a suspicious look. “Would you?” “I never go back on my word, sweetheart. We’ll get Rees to help out if you don’t believe me. He’d be happy to chain me up, although not for the same reasons. He thinks I’m a pain in the ass.

Nella had the sudden flash of seeing Rio, in his leather leggings, kneeling with thighs spread, his hands behind him, his brawny wrists encircled by wide cuffs with a chain between them. Rio’s gaze locked to hers, his eyes nearly filling with blue, as though he knew what was in her head. Then she noticed Rees. He’d stilled, his irises also widening. His large hand moved to cup Talan’s waist and pull her toward him. The tunic couldn’t hide the fact that his cock was stiffening and lengthening. “Better stop whatever you are imagining,” Dr. Laas said to Nella, amusement in her voice. “You have two Shareem males erect and randy in front of you, and you’re only wearing a sheet. Who knows what the consequences will be?” “Can they read my mind?” Nella asked in surprise. “No,” Rees said, his voice rumbling and low. “Your pheromones.” “They pour over us like water, sweetheart,” Rio said. “When your body is craving us, we get all hot and bothered. We can’t help it.” He moved to her. “Later, I’ll make you tell me what you were thinking about.” Bad idea. A very bad idea. Talan seemed the only one able to take the situation in stride. She broke away from Rees and came to Nella. “You poor dear. I imagine you are quite confused. Come and sit.” She glanced at Rio. “Couldn’t you find her any clothes?” Rio shrugged. “I like her the way she is.

You have the most beautiful smile,” Rio said. His eyes had gone deeply blue, his irises spreading to blot out the white. “You are putting thoughts into my head again.” “No, darlin’. You’re putting them there all by yourself.” “You are making me want to obey you.” “Maybe giving you a little nudge.” Nella wet her lips, which were so dry for some reason. “What exactly would you want me to do?” Rio came closer, and she could smell the leather of his clothes, the musk of his body, feel the heat of his fingers before he even touched her. “Anything I can think of to make you do.” His temperature seemed higher than that of a normal human, as she’d observed before. Humans were actually a little cooler on Bor Narga, she’d learned— an adaptation against living in an extreme desert climate— but Shareem skin was hot. Especially Rio’s, especially now. “And if I refuse to obey? You punish me?” “Maybe. I’m not like some Doms, who reach for the whip every time their ladies disobey.” He leaned to her, his voice velvet smooth, his breath hot spice. “Punishment is so much sweeter when it’s begged for.” Nella tried to draw a normal breath and couldn’t. She hadn’t felt normal since she woke up here. “I would never ask to be punished.” “Beg, I said. And you will.” He touched the swirl of hair above her ear. “You will, sweet darling. I guarantee it.

Há mais de dois mil e quinhentos anos nasceu no Nepal um homem chamado Siddharta Gautama, um príncipe pertencente a uma casta nobre e que vivia num palácio. Ao constatar, porém, que para lá do palácio a vida era feita de sofrimento, Siddharta abandonou tudo e foi para a Índia viver numa floresta como um asceta, dilacerado por uma pergunta: 'para quê viver quando tudo é dor?' Durante sete anos deambulou pela floresta em busca da resposta a essa pergunta. Cinco ascetas convenceram-no a jejuar, por acreditarem que a renúncia às necessidades do corpo criaria a energia espiritual que os conduziria à iluminação. Siddharta jejuou tanto que ficou esquelético e o seu umbigo tocou-lhe na coluna vertebral. No final, constatou que o corpo necessita de energia para alimentar a mente na sua busca. Decidiu, por isso, abandonar os caminhos extremos. Para ele, o verdadeiro caminho não era o da luxúria dos dois extremos. escolheu antes o caminho do meio, o do equilíbrio. Um dia, após banhar-se no rio e ao comer um arroz-doce, sentou-se em meditação debaixo de uma figueira, uma árvore da iluminação, a que chamam Bodhi, e jurou que não sairia dali enquanto não atingisse a iluminação. Após quarenta e nove dias de meditação, chegou a noite em que alcançou finalmente a clarificação final de todas as suas dúvidas. Ele despertou por completo. Siddharta tornou-se Buda, o Iluminado.

How much will you change?” Nella asked, uneasy. “Oh, not too much. Enough so that your signature won’t match the bots’ programming. Outwardly, you’ll never know the difference. Unless, of course, you’d like me to make some modifications.” She ran an eye up and down Nella, like a dress designer trying to decide where to put more pleats or frills. Rio’s arms tightened around her. “Don’t you dare change a thing. She’s perfect the way she is.” Nella’s face heated. “Not really.” “You don’t believe me?” Rio said, his voice taking on a dangerous note. “You’re very flattering,” she said. His playfulness vanished. “Flattering? You mean I’m lying?” “I didn’t say that. I . . .” He confused her. All her life Nella had been taught to be banally polite, to have the correct remark for the correct person at the correct time, always. Everything she said to Rio seemed to provoke a reaction opposite of what she’d been taught to expect. But then, Rio was nothing like any male— any human being— Nella had ever met before. He did nothing as expected. Maybe that was part of his attraction— his unpredictability. Abruptly, Rio spun Nella around and lifted her over his shoulder. She squeaked in surprise as her world went upside down, too startled to do anything but gape at his tight, leather-clad buttocks. “You’re still having a problem with trust,” he said. “One I’m going to have to cure.” Planting his hand on her backside, Rio hauled Nella out of the room, completely ignoring her shout of protest.

The man glared at the sphere, then a gleam entered his eye. “All right, you hunk of junk, come get me.” He sounded elated, like he was having fun. A man who had fun fighting an assassin bot? He led the bot backward, step by step. It followed him, and he laughed, one of the finest sounds Nella had ever heard. A woman could fall in love with that laugh. But any moment now, he’d fall over Nella’s hiding place, and the bot would get them both, which meant death for her. She held her breath. At the last minute, the man stepped through a narrow doorway into an empty warehouse. The bot skittered into the shadowed opening, then it stopped, confused. The man ducked out and slapped his hand against the wall. A huge metal door slammed down, carrying the startled bot with it. The heavy slab of metal smashed the bot into the floor. Plastic and metal and gold bits flew every which way, clattering against the rusting walls. Then with hiss and a pop, the pieces disintegrated. The man laughed again. “There. See how   you   like it.” But the bot was programmed to kill, no matter what. At the last moment, it released one of its darts, lightning fast, straight at Nella, programmed to seek and find her DNA signature. Nella felt the sting in her bare leg. The poison acted swiftly, and her vision blurred. Through a fog, she saw the big man standing over her, concern in the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. He pulled out the dart and stood holding it in one large hand. She heard him say, “Shit, are you all . . . ?” and then, there was nothing.

It will relax her, make her pliable. Women love having their feet rubbed.” “Most women beg me to rub somewhere other than their feet.” “They like their toes nibbled,” Aiden said. “And suckled.” “Rub feet, suckle toes. Got it.” “Do it slowly, the strokes steady. Then move up her legs. Use her muscles as a guide. Not hard strokes— you want to soothe, not press.” “How long before I can massage her pussy?” “Gods, level threes are impatient. The trick is to go slowly. By the time you’ve reached her ass, she’s sighing with pleasure, but you don’t stop there. You do her entire back and arms while she’s longing for you to get to her pussy. Make her wait.” “Now that I can get into. Holding back, making her beg.” He saw Nella again, squirming on the sheets, her red hair tangled on the pillow, her hips lifting toward him.   Please, Rio, she’d say. Not yet, baby, he’d respond. I want you good and wet before I get there. She’d whimper with disappointment, then he’d lift his strap and smack her sweet little backside. Rio sighed and made the image dissolve. “Massage. Slowly. I’m not sure my programming will let me.” “Like this.” Aiden moved his ale glass and pressed his hand to the table, thumb and last two fingers on the surface, the other two fingers held loosely. “Glide across her skin, pressing a little. Long strokes, following the curve of her leg.” He moved his hand across the table, slowly and sensually, his own eyes becoming bluer, as though he pictured a beautiful woman under his hand. Rio copied his movements, trying to shape his hand the same way, trying press a little, but not too much. It felt awkward. He gave up. “I gotta say, massaging this table does nothing for me.

Kızılderililerin Türklüğü" tezi ilk kez 1920'lerde ortaya atılmıştır. 1924'te Rio'da toplanan 20. Amerikanistler Kongresi'nde Çinli Tong De Kien, Kızılderililerin "Altay" kökenli olduklarını ileri sürmüştür. Sayfa:68

Do they put the piece of paper with the fortune on it inside the cookie before they bake it or after?” Paris scoffed as if it was a ridiculous question, but then paused. “You know, I have no idea. You’d think the fortunes would burn if they went in the oven, right?” “But if you wait until after, how do you slide it in without breaking the cookie?” Paris did a quick search on his phone. “It’s in the middle of the process.” “What do you mean?” asked Rio. “They bake the cookies as flat circles,” Paris answered as he read about it. “Then they put the fortune in and fold the cookie while it’s still warm. When it cools, it holds its shape and the fortune is inside.

He may be saving me from Rio and Rick, but that doesn’t mean I won’t need saving from him, too.

What should I name him?” Simon asked, puzzled. “‘Rio’ should suit him,” Ray suggested. Simon and the others in the room didn’t mind that name — and the little Sky leviathan didn’t mind it either. He was more focused on eating the table than what he was being named. So, the little Sky leviathan was named Rio.

Antes de que Hunt pudiera responder, Bryce se acercó a la celda de Pollux. Pollux se esforzó por hacer un espectáculo de mirarla desde la cabeza hasta la punta de sus zapatos de tacón. —Pensé que las de tu calaña por lo general trabajaban en el turno de la noche. Bryce rio. —¿Tienes algún otro insulto anticuado que lanzarme? Ante el silencio de Pollux, Bryce continuó: —El trabajo sexual es una profesión respetable en Ciudad Medialuna. No es mi culpa que Pangera no se haya puesto al corriente con los tiempos modernos. Pollux desbordaba malicia. —Micah debería haberte matado y santo remedio. Ella hizo brillar sus ojos, que él pudiera notar que sabía todo lo que le había hecho a Hunt, cuánto lo detestaba. —¿Eso es lo mejor que se te ocurre decir? ¿No se suponía que el Martillo era una especie de estrella del sadismo? —Y yo pensaba que las putas mestizas se suponía que mantenían la boca cerrada. Por fortuna, sé perfectamente qué meterte en esa bocota para que te calles. Bryce le guiñó con picardía. —Cuidado. Uso los dientes.

Hunt concentró su mirada en esos ojos dorados. —Tú sabes lo que yo quiero —no pudo evitar que su voz se hiciera más grave de nuevo—. Nunca he dejado de desearlo, de desearte a ti. Pensé que eso era obvio. Ella sentía que su corazón latía sin control. Él podía escucharlo. Miró hacia su busto amplio y alcanzó a ver un ligero brillo. —Tu estrella... —Ni siquiera la menciones —dijo ella con un ademán hacia la cicatriz—. Sigamos hablando sobre cuánto me deseas —le guiñó. Hunt la abrazó por los hombros y la condujo de regreso hacia la calle llena de gente. Le susurró al oído. —¿Por qué no mejor te lo demuestro más tarde? Ella rio y el brillo de su estrella se desvaneció bajo la luz del sol cuando emergieron a las calles ardientes y se volvió a poner los lentes oscuros y la gorra. —Eso es lo que quiero, Hunt. Eso es definitivamente lo que quiero.

I wonder when Rio started feeling safe.  But I'll admit, I'm grateful. He's not an ally by any means, but he's the least of my enemies in this fucking house.

In the early 2000s, new malls were sprouting up all over São Paulo and Rio, and industry ownership, as I’ve mentioned, was highly fragmented. We partnered with a local private equity firm to create BR Malls as a growth platform in 2006, investing $86 million. Roughly a year later, we led BR Malls in an IPO on Brazil’s Bovespa at an equity valuation of roughly R$2.1 billion. The capital enabled BR Malls to lead the industry in acquisitions. Five years later, the company had nearly fifty malls. Total returns for public shareholders were over 26 percent, and BR Malls had an equity market cap of R$10.7 billion. By the time we fully exited the investment in 2010, BR Malls was the largest mall company in Brazil, and we had achieved a 4.2x multiple, or 48.6 percent IRR.

Your mind lives in fear and regret but your body can only live right now, in this moment. So, take some deep breaths and live in your body. It's a safer place to be than in your head.

Just so you know,” Rio says into my ear, loud enough to hear over the music. “I’m well aware you’re using me to make him jealous and I’m perfectly okay with that.” I chuckle. “I was hoping you would be.”  “Fuck it.” Rio grabs my waist, pulling me into him. “But if he hits me for this, he better at least give me an autograph too.

Rio’s hands shoot up in surrender. “She made me do it.

Outro problema que eles enfrentam. Como animais endêmicos de algumas regiões foram parar na arca? Cangurus da Austrália, pinguins do polo norte, e mesmo cobras do Brasil. Eles dizem, mas era tudo junto, apelando para a teoria das placas tectônicas. Dois problemas. A velocidade das placas não daria em 2.000 anos. Se fosse, quando voasse para Europa com 20 anos, e se fizesse o mesmo voo com 30 anos, seria evidente o tempo de voo, a diferença. O fato de uma espécie ser do Brasil não significa que seja igualmente distribuída em todo o território, muitas espécies são endêmicas. Somente no Brasil, uma viagem Minas Gerais Rio de Janeiro são 5-8 horas usando transporte moderno.

Pastel de Nata Massa Folhada Ingredientes ½ kg de farinha de trigo peneirada 1 pitada de sal 250ml de água 150g de margarina para folhados 150g de manteiga sem sal Modo de preparo Colocar a farinha de trigo em uma tigela. Juntar o sal e a água. Trabalhar a massa com as mãos até formar uma bola. Deixar descansar por cerca de meia hora, coberta com um plástico. Misturar a margarina com a manteiga e amassar até a mistura ficar com uma consistência de pomada. Depois que a massa já estiver descansada, abrir como um rolo próprio até formar um retângulo de cerca de ½cm de espessura. Com a ajuda de uma espátula ou com as costas de uma colher, espalhar 1/3 da mistura de manteiga. Deixar a massa descansar novamente. Abrir a massa mais uma vez e espalhar o último 1/3 da mistura. Em vez de dobrar a massa, enrolar como se fosse rocambole, até formar um cilindro de 2,5cm de diâmetro. Leve à geladeira para descansar. Recheio Ingredientes ½ l de leite integral 1 pedacinho de casca de limão 1 pauzinho de canela ½ kg de açúcar 250ml de água 100g de farinha de trigo 30g de manteiga sem sal gemas Modo de preparo Colocar o açúcar, a água, a canela e a casca de limão em uma panela. Levar ao fogo. Depois que começar a ferver, marcar 3 minutos e retirar do fogo. Deixar esfriar e coar. Colocar 300ml de leite em uma panela e levar ao fogo; misturar o restante do leite com a farinha de trigo e peneirar. Quando o leite ferver, adicionar a mistura de leite e a farinha e mexer vigorosamente até formar um creme grosso. Retirar a panela do fogo. Juntar a calda fria ao creme e misturar bem. Deixar esfriar. Adicionar as gemas ao creme e passar tudo por uma peneira fina. Levar o creme à geladeira para ficar bem frio. Montagem 1. Cortar a massa em toquinhos de 1,5cm e colocá-los dentro das forminhas. Abrir a massa com cuidado e aparar as bordas com uma faca afiada. 2. Colocar o recheio sobre a massa, sem encher as formas até as bordas. 3. Assar em forno de 250ºC a 300ºC por cerca de 12 minutos.

Musse Romeu e Julieta Ingredientes 200ml de creme de leite fresco 200g de leite condensado 450g de Philadelphia Raspas de 1/2 limão ½ colher (sopa) de essência de baunilha (opcional) 300g de goiabada cremosa Gelatina (opcional) Modo de preparo Bata o Philadelphia até ficar bem cremoso e reserve. Bata o creme de leite até o ponto de chantilly, adicione o leite condensado, o Philadelphia, as raspas de limão e a essência de baunilha e misture. Coloque em copinhos e deixe resfriar. Na hora de servir, finalize com a goiabada cremosa.

Since the signing of the Framework Convention on Climate Change (FCCC) at the Rio Earth Summit in 1992, abating greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions has been regarded as an urgent global responsibility.2 GHGs linger in the atmosphere for decades, centuries, and even longer. When this is coupled with the fact that their impacts are mediated through various complex systems, the result is that climate change is practically irreversible on the timescales that most of us care about.

Se levantó y, completamente desnudo, se dirigió hacia el vestidor, una habitación a la que se llegaba después de cruzar una puerta disimulada debajo de un tapiz, y salió de allí con un cepillo del pelo de marfil con adornos dorados. Empezó a cepillarse el pelo delante de ella mientras miraba por el ventanal hacia el día que estaba apuntando. –Eres un… –masculló Erinni. Dayan se giró y la miró con ojos inocentes. –¿Qué ocurre? –Lo sabes perfectamente –farfulló ella, medio enfadada y medio divertida por la sutileza de Dayan a la hora de sobornarla para que se quedara un poco más–. Trae. Erinni caminó hacia él con la mano extendida, pidiéndole el cepillo. Él se lo ofreció con una pícara sonrisa curvando sus labios, y se sentó en el diván para que ella pudiera peinarlo sin tener que ponerse de puntillas. –Mi pelo te vuelve loca. –Entre otras cosas, sí. Dayan frunció el ceño. –No sé si sentirme halagado u ofendido. Erinni se rio, y el sonido musical llenó toda la estancia. –Siéntete halagado. La mayoría de hombres tienen el pelo hecho un desastre. A las mujeres nos gustan los hombres como tú, varoniles pero aseados, y pasar nuestras manos por un pelo como el tuyo nos excita. Claro que eso ya lo sabes. –Me gusta que las mujeres que me rodean sean muy felices –contestó a propósito. Quería tantear el terreno, ver hasta qué punto él significaba algo para ella. ¿Se pondría celosa? ¿O por el contrario no le importarían sus devaneos con otras mujeres? La respuesta la tuvo en forma de tirón que casi le arranca un mechón de pelo–. ¡Auch! –No seas quejica –le espetó Erinni dándole otro tirón. Dayan se giró y le cogió la mano. –¿Te has propuesto dejarme calvo? –Tienes el pelo muy enredado –replicó ella haciendo un mohín y entrecerrando los ojos. Dayan estuvo a punto de echarse a reír. Definitivamente, a ella no le gustaba que hablara de otras mujeres. –¿Y no puedes ir con más cuidado? –Mejor cepíllate el pelo tú mismo. No pienso esforzarme en algo para que lo disfrute alguna otra. Erinni se giró dejando caer el cepillo en el suelo y se propuso marcharse de allí, pero Dayan se lo impidió cogiéndola por la cintura y tirando de ella hasta que la obligó a sentarse sobre sus rodillas. –¡Suéltame! Erinni lo empujó poniendo las manos en su pecho, pero él la apretó por la cintura y la atrajo más hacia él. –No pienso hacerlo, cariño. –No me llames así. –Erinni… –No. Dayan soltó una risita divertida mientras la obligaba a mirarlo. –Cariño, ninguna otra mujer recibirá mis atenciones mientras tú y yo estemos juntos. Te lo prometo. Erinni se quedó muda por el asombro. No se esperaba algo así. –¿Por qué? –musitó. –Porque tú no eres una esclava con la que… desahogar una necesidad. –Le pasó el dedo por el mentón, acariciándola–. Tú eres mi hechicera." (Dayan y Erinni. Capítulo 7, parte D. Final del capítulo.)

Oh, it’s her alright. Look at that walk. That’s Jenny’s walk. I know that walk from a mile away.

You texted Garcia for help?" Jack gritted out. "Garcia? Not me?" "He has a gun." "So do I." "He's steady and reliable," I said. "He doesn't disappear for eight months. He doesn't go on business trips that require burner phones and secret codes. He doesn't refuse to tell me what he does for a living. I texted HELP and I knew he'd come. I wasn't sure about you." "You don't think I would have come if you'd texted me for help?" Indignation laced Jack's tone. "For all I knew, you were being tossed out a window in Rio, tortured by the Italian Mafia in Tuscany, or you were in the North Sea trapped in a Russian submarine." "The Italian Mafia are based in Sicily," he corrected me. "Tuscany doesn't have the port access they need for the drug trade." I folded my arms and sighed. "You missed the point entirely.

Her name is Adeline Reilly. She was taken to Dr. Garrison’s place to be treated for injuries from a car accident—one that they caused. The doctor had a penchant for taking his patients to his room and having his way with them, except with Addie, he tried to kidnap her. He was killed by one of her kidnappers, Rio Sanchez, and when they left, they shut down the entire grid. The last thing I am is incapable, but I am also aware that the more people I have searching for her, the faster I am to find her. “I am a patient man, but not when it comes to getting my girl back.

Once Addie had gotten in my car, she had given me two names, along with a plea to save one of them from a sunflower field. Rio’s sister, Katerina Sanchez, and her groomer, Lillian Berez.

In the 1940s military and scientific personnel chose the Pajarito Plateau to site Project Y (or Site Y) of the secret Manhattan Project, where scientists would develop the atomic bomb. My grandmother’s family and other Nuevomexicanas/os and Tewa people were forcibly dispossessed of their ranches and sacred land on the Pajarito Plateau with inequitable or no compensation. Beginning in the 1940s, Lab personnel directed Valley vecinos2 to bury contaminated everything in the Los Alamos canyon and nearby along the Rio Grande. The soil and the water that Nuevomexicanas/os once used to irrigate crops is now polluted with toxic chemicals and remnants of nuclear materials.3 Cancer, thyroid disease, and unexplained organ failure, among other illnesses, now plague our community.

Rio walks ahead of us, shooting an indecipherable look over his shoulder before he leads me into the house straight out of Courage the Cowardly Dog. Only double the size.

Visions of Rio from Good Girls comes to mind

Because I feel like a fool,” I said. “Falling for a straight guy. It’s a fucking cliché.” “Really, Henry? All you feel is foolish? Is that why you were about to throw away your sobriety?

An airplane is sewn by the outside ankle of the left shoe. There’s a hockey stick and a Stanley Cup on the right. An ocean and sunset which I assume is Florida. A head of chestnut curls and I could recognize that as representing my sister even from a mile away. A number thirty-eight is nestled into Boston’s skyline for her friend Rio, I guess. I don’t let myself think too far into that because I’m just grateful there’s nothing regarding her shitty ex that she would quite literally be walking around with.

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Nothing will take you away from us. Not Rio, not Blackwood. Not even yourself. You’re not alone anymore and we will face this together.

Francesca was fucking Rio. But I have a feeling it wasn’t mutual. She was raping him, regardless of his compliance, and it sounds like she was quite attached to him.

Maximum speed was restricted to M 2.2 in order to use conventional aluminum alloys (flights above M 2.2 require titanium and special steels because of thermal limitations). The first test flight of the French prototype was on March 2, 1969; M 1 was reached briefly for the first time on October 1, 1969, and M 2 was sustained on November 4, 1970. Extensive testing of both prototypes followed, and commercial operations began on January 21, 1976, with concurrent flights from London to Bahrain and from Paris to Rio de Janeiro.

I’d been everything but ordinary and I wanted to know what that felt like before they dump me into the grave.

Honey, if you’re going to take sex advice from a bunch of men in dresses, I’d choose drag queens over priests. At least drag queens have had sex.

Rio towards the beginning of December is quite enough even for the most ardent admirer of the picturesque. The heat in the city is intolerable. The mosquito s plague you to death. Above all, in my case, the hateful scenes which I was, on this my first visit to a slave country, forced to witness of cruelty to the unhappy negro, created in me an utter disgust of the place. Such was the profound impression made on my feelings in that early part of my career, by the stroke of the lash and the shriek of the victim, which ever and anon fell on my unwilling ear, that to this day I fancy I can hear the appalling sound as distinctly as I did twenty five years ago.

He grew up in Rio de Janeiro. So, it could be so many things. Such a rich tradition of comfort foods. Maybe not something entirely traditional. Umm... churros?" She said it exactly the way he had taught her to say it, many moons ago, while feeding the crisp-on-the-outside, pillowy-on-the-inside confection into her mouth and then tasting the sticky sweetness on her lips.

wrote it in the summer of 1959 in my furnished room at the Hotel Rio, on West Forty-Seventh Street between Sixth and Seventh avenues.

Rio 2 (2014)