Ja staram się czytać od razu...
I am juz wszystki, choć dużo czasu i pieniedzy mnie to kosztowało...
J.D. Robb
- Posty: 3729
- Dołączył(a): 17 grudnia 2010, o 11:14
- Lokalizacja: Piotrków Tryb./Dogewa
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- Posty: 45389
- Dołączył(a): 17 grudnia 2010, o 11:14
- Lokalizacja: Czytam, więc jestem.
- Ulubiona autorka/autor: N.R./JD.Robb/Krentz/Quick/Castle/L.Kleypas/Ch.Dodd
przez Lilia ❀ » 15 kwietnia 2008, o 22:15
napisałam do nich, by dali wznowienia 
nie wszystkich stać na skandaliczne ceny na allegro
nie wszystkich stać na skandaliczne ceny na allegro
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- Posty: 21173
- Dołączył(a): 17 grudnia 2010, o 11:14
- Lokalizacja: z Doliny Muminków
- Ulubiona autorka/autor: chyba jednak Krentz/Quick/Castle...
przez Jadzia » 16 kwietnia 2008, o 12:50
A wracając jeszcze do ekranizacji, trafiłam ostatnio na pewnego pana, Thomasa Jane. Więc co o nim sądzicie jako o Roarke 'u? Zaznaczam, że nie wiem nic o jego zdolnościach aktorskich.
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- Posty: 6439
- Dołączył(a): 17 grudnia 2010, o 11:14
przez Liberty » 16 kwietnia 2008, o 13:14
Niezłe ciacho Piękna klata, nieprzesadnie umięśniona, ale bardzo męska. Tylko na Roarka ciut za mało elegancki. Ale od czego są styliści 
Piękna klata, nieprzesadnie umięśniona, ale bardzo męska. Tylko na Roarka ciut za mało elegancki. Ale od czego są styliści -
- Posty: 45389
- Dołączył(a): 17 grudnia 2010, o 11:14
- Lokalizacja: Czytam, więc jestem.
- Ulubiona autorka/autor: N.R./JD.Robb/Krentz/Quick/Castle/L.Kleypas/Ch.Dodd
przez Lilia ❀ » 16 kwietnia 2008, o 14:19
czyli w tym roku będą same nowości. wcześniejszych wydań możemy się spodziewać dopiero w przyszłym roku
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- Posty: 6798
- Dołączył(a): 17 grudnia 2010, o 11:14
przez mewa » 17 kwietnia 2008, o 10:47
hmmm szkoda, brakuje mi kilku starych...ale dobrze ze chociaż nowe wydadzą mam nadzieję że ta co będzie w maju jest lepsza niż naznaczone śmiercia- bo to wg mnie murzyn
mam nadzieję że ta co będzie w maju jest lepsza niż naznaczone śmiercia- bo to wg mnie murzyn-
- Posty: 45389
- Dołączył(a): 17 grudnia 2010, o 11:14
- Lokalizacja: Czytam, więc jestem.
- Ulubiona autorka/autor: N.R./JD.Robb/Krentz/Quick/Castle/L.Kleypas/Ch.Dodd
przez Lilia ❀ » 19 kwietnia 2008, o 01:14
<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: red">Parodia zakończenia serii In Death</span></span> 
Marianne Stillings (In 2001, Marianne Stillings earned the most votes for her Purple Prose Parody, Parody in Death. As an AAR staffer, she was inelgible to win our prize that year, but her parody of J.D. Robb 's In Death series was such a hit with readers that she reprises the series with Epilogue in Death.)
<span style="font-weight: bold">Epilogue in Death</span>
<span style="font-style: italic">December 31, 2099 – New Roarke City, Earth
Roarke gazed at his reflection in the holomirror over the fireplace in his study, wrapping the thick NuWool scarf he held in his hand around his neck - twice. Zipping the front of his black ski parka, he pulled a pair of thin InsulaGloves from one of the pockets and tugged them on. He took a moment to finger-comb his long silver hair, then unclipped the MicroKnit cap from the belt of the parka and yanked it on over his head.
There, warm at last.
Next to the holomirror, a flute of champagne sparkled pale and golden in the late afternoon light. Raising the glass to his lips, he let his attention drift to the framed holoportrait of himself and Eve taken on their wedding day over forty years ago. One sip, and he smiled into his own eyes, pleased at the full-bodied flavor of the exquisite ’80 Chateau de Roarkeschild. While there were many many many many many ventures both on-planet and off that bore his name, the vineyards on Tibia and Fibula left him feeling proud right down to the bones.
Somewhere upstairs, the sound of crockery crashing against a wall caught his attention. He winced, stared for a moment at his reflection in the mirror, then tossed back the champagne, downing the remainder in one gulp.
Behind him, a voice, deep and droll, murmured slowly, “She rises.”
In the holomirror, Roarke’s eyes shifted to meet Summerset’s. “I didn’t hear you come in, old friend.”
“It’s this RoarKo ChairE8 5000,” the butler stated, opening his arms as if to embrace the lighter-than-air conveyance in which he sat. “I simply cannot fathom how people used to transport their arthritic limbs about in devices that had wheels on them. Barbaric, and utterly impractical.”
Desperate to avoid the stomping noises coming from upstairs, Roarke lifted his voice above the cacophony. “I began working on the design just before your one hundred and thirtieth birthday last year. Happy to see it fits your needs.” Turning away from the mantel, he flicked a nervous glance at the ceiling. Barely able to keep the tremble from his tone, he went on, “I-I trust you have the air temp set at forty-five?”
Summerset gave a sharp nod. “Indeed I have, sir. It is my fondest wish, after all, to live to see one hundred and thirty-one.”
Overhead, the sound of footsteps thundering across the floor increased, reducing both men to apprehensive silence. Something else hit a wall and broke. On the other side of the study, the windows rattled as a woman began shouting at the top of her lungs.
Roarke eyed his champagne flute, wishing like hell it were full again. “H-Have any of the children arrived yet?”
The butler’s eyes still following the thuds and bumps above them, he whispered, “Your younger son beamed down from Phalanges early this morning.”
“He’s knuckled down to his studies, I trust?”
“Indeed, sir. And your daughter arrived earlier from Philtrum II.”
“She didn’t give you any lip, did she? So much like her mother she is.”
“No, sir.”
Roarke arched a brow. “And my eldest son. What of him?”
“He sent word that he and his family will be late,” Summerset said. “Though I’m told he hasn’t yet completed his research, the Interplanetary Commission is demanding his findings nonetheless. Apparently the binary blue moons of Scrotum VII are cooling more rapidly than anticipated, so he is offering his dictum today in the hopes of fulfilling their desires.”
“But will a premature explanation satisfy them?”
Summerset shrugged. “He promised he’d try to come later.”
A noise outside the study caught both men’s attention. Quickly turning his floating conveyance toward the opposite end of the room, Summerset whooshed toward the door at the far end.
“If there will be nothing else, sir, I’m getting the hell out of here.”
“Coward!” Roarke accused.
“Indeed, sir!” the butler shouted over his shoulder as the door closed firmly behind him, leaving Roarke to face her alone.
A moment later, Eve stomped into the study wearing nothing but a navy blue NRCPD t-shirt and cut-offs. Fingers curling into fists at her sides, her damp, steel gray hair hanging limply over her ears, she yelled, “Is it hotter than shit in here, or is it just me?”
Glaring at Roarke as though waiting for a logical answer, she wiped her sweaty brow with the towel she clutched in her hand.
“Lieutenant,” Roarke soothed as he huddled deeper into his parka. “If it’s too warm for you, I’d be happy to ship in an iceberg from---”
“Don’t get smart with me!” she snapped, then tugged at the neck of her t-shirt. “Hell. Why can’t that damned butler of yours keep this place at a comfortable temperature!”
“But darling Eve---”
“Don’t you darling Eve me!” She stopped abruptly. A puzzled expression crossed her face. Lifting her gaze, she looked around the study. “I know I came into this room for a reason,” she said softly under her breath. “Let’s see. I . . . I was upstairs, and then I came downstairs to get . . . to get . . . something . . .”
Without warning, she burst into tears and flung herself into Roarke’s arms. “I’m sorry!” she squeaked. “I don’t . . . I can’t . . . I just . . .” Looking up into his eyes, she sniffed. “My feet are hot! My skin is crawling! My heart is racing---”
“I see then that I haven’t lost my touch---”
“Don’t try and get out of this with charm, pal,” she barked, then shoved herself out of his arms. Placing her open palm against her forehead, she whimpered, “Are the kids here yet? Where are the kids? Are they hiding from me? They’re hiding from me, aren’t they? I’m bad. I’m a bad parent. I never should have reproduced. I should have stuck with solving the varied and heinous crimes that plague this city, and left motherhood to Mavis and Peabody and Nadine and all my other really feminine friends who have the maternal instincts I so obviously lack!”
“Look, Eve darling,” Roarke cajoled. “Why don’t we just go upstairs and have a tumble. You know how that always---”
“A tumble!” she screamed. “A tumble? Is that all you ever think about, Tommy Testosterone? Is that your solution to everything? Never mind that I suddenly have the sex-drive of a wooden spoon, or that my vagi-woo-woo is about as moist as a Martian desert! Oh, and my brain. My frickin’ brain functions about as well as a . . . a . . . a something. I forget. What was I going to say? Something about memory something?” She blinked up at him, bewilderment plain to see in the milky brown depths of her eyes. “Are the kids here yet? Did I ask you that already?”
Wiping the frost from his upper lip, Roarke tugged his gloves on more snugly, then approached his wife and put his arms around her.
“Relax, Lieutenant,” he whispered. “You’re retired from law enforcement now and don’t have to remember anything if you don’t want to. Aye, two of the children are about, and the other will hopefully arrive later. In your illustrious career, you solved some of the most disgusting, violent, foul, repugnant, vulgar, icky, yucky crimes of the century, made a name for yourself, bore three beautiful children, are the grandmother of two, live in any number of mansions, can afford to travel to any galaxy you wish on a moment’s notice, and are married to the hottest old man this side of the Crab Nebula.”
Her head came up. “You have crabs?”
“The hearing’s going too, is it?” When she cocked her head and blinked, he shouted, “Crab Nebula!”
“Well you don’t have to yell at me!” she yelled at him. “I’m not deaf!” When she began to cry again, Roarke placed his open palm against the back of Eve’s head and eased it down to his shoulder, turning her face gently away so she wouldn’t suffocate in the thickness of his parka.
“Look, there’s a lovely retirement community on Jupiter that I think you’d really---”
“My boobs sag,” she interrupted with a sorrowful whimper.
“I don’t care.”
“My butt sags, too.”
“Not to me, it doesn’t.”
“I’ve turned into a bitch.”
“Not true, Lieutenant. You’ve always been a bitch.”
“Really?” she said, lifting her head to search his eyes. Stomping her bare foot, she snarled, “Oh, you’re just saying that to make me feel better!”
“I’m not. It’s true. Ask anyone.”
She clung to him. “That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me, Roarke.” Tears trickled from her eyes down her face. She wiped them away and raised her head. “How come men don’t turn into a whole other person when they hit middle age?”
“God is obviously a man, darling Eve.”
She sniffed. “Thank you for putting up with me all these years, Roarke.”
“It’s occasionally been a pleasure, Lieutenant.”
“Roarke,” she said quietly. “Roarke . . .”
He arched a brow. “Something?”
She nodded. “We’ve been married for forty years, had three children together and been through any number incidents that would have killed, or at the very least maimed for life, lesser fictional characters.”
“Too true.”
Inhaling a deep breath, she said, “So don’t you think it’s about time you told me your first name?”
“We’ve been over this,” he warned. “Besides, why do you assume Roarke is my last name?”
“Because our children are named Roy Roarke, Rory Roarke, and Dora Roarke, Roarke!” She glared at him, mopped bits of sweat from her neck, then tossed the damp towel at his feet like a gauntlet. “What is your first name? Tell me now, or I swear, I’ll let my over-heated hormones loose, what there are left of them, and . . .”
“Joe.”
“. . . I swear to God that if you don’t . . .” Her breath caught. “Joe?” Her lashes fluttered as she absorbed what he’d just said. “Your name is Joe? Joe Roarke?”
“What?” he growled. “I suppose you were expecting something illustrious? Something the likes of Derek or Erik or Brad or Dylan or Reinhold or Cosmo? A name befitting my station in life, my zephamegamuchogigantokatrillions of dollars, my ownership of every building in every city on every planet in the galaxy?”
She shrugged. “Well, yeah, actually. Not too sure about Reinhold, though.” Sliding her arms around him, she laughed somewhat maniacally. “No matter, no matter, no matter.” Heaving a sigh, she said, “So, Joe, it’s almost the new century. We’ve had forty good years together so far. You gonna stick around for the next forty?”
He considered the possibilities. “Aye. If Ms. Robb continues placing our lives at hazard, involving us in interplanetary travel and daily bouts of wild monkey sex, I’m willing to sign on to go the distance.”
Eve tilted her head. “Even if it means doing it in a RoarKo ChairE8 5000?”
He winked at her. “Aye. Say, do you suppose Ms. Robb has any plans for us in our Golden Years?”
“You mean like Pensioned Off In Death?”
He narrowed one eye. “How about Dotage In Death, or maybe Senile In Death.”
“Well, after Menopause In Death, I suppose it would naturally follow.”
Roarke’s mouth flattened. “As long as there’s no Shriveled or Wilted In Death, if you get my meaning, I’ll be content.”
“There’s always Levitra In Death, sweetheart.”
Removing his gloves, Roarke caressed his wife’s damp cheek, then leaned down to plant a kiss on the top of her arctic red nose. “Always the problem solver, eh, Lieutenant?” he observed softly. “Through the hot flashes, fits of temper, shouting, weeping, mood swings, and then when you went into menopause, there’s never been a woman so fine a match for me as you.”
“Nor you for me,” she sniffled. “Promise me, Joe, no matter the title, no matter what perverted kinds of hell Ms. Robb puts us through day after day, year after year, decade after decade, and on and on and on, bestseller after bestseller after bestseller, no matter how old and tired we get---“
“Come to the point here, would you, Lieutenant?”
“Okay, it’s that no matter what, you and I will be together until The End . . . and beyond.”
Roarke nodded. “Even so far as In Death In Death, darling Eve, count me in. Now,” he said, tilting up her chin to gaze deeply into her eyes. “How about that tumble . . .” </span>
Marianne Stillings (In 2001, Marianne Stillings earned the most votes for her Purple Prose Parody, Parody in Death. As an AAR staffer, she was inelgible to win our prize that year, but her parody of J.D. Robb 's In Death series was such a hit with readers that she reprises the series with Epilogue in Death.)
<span style="font-weight: bold">Epilogue in Death</span>
<span style="font-style: italic">December 31, 2099 – New Roarke City, Earth
Roarke gazed at his reflection in the holomirror over the fireplace in his study, wrapping the thick NuWool scarf he held in his hand around his neck - twice. Zipping the front of his black ski parka, he pulled a pair of thin InsulaGloves from one of the pockets and tugged them on. He took a moment to finger-comb his long silver hair, then unclipped the MicroKnit cap from the belt of the parka and yanked it on over his head.
There, warm at last.
Next to the holomirror, a flute of champagne sparkled pale and golden in the late afternoon light. Raising the glass to his lips, he let his attention drift to the framed holoportrait of himself and Eve taken on their wedding day over forty years ago. One sip, and he smiled into his own eyes, pleased at the full-bodied flavor of the exquisite ’80 Chateau de Roarkeschild. While there were many many many many many ventures both on-planet and off that bore his name, the vineyards on Tibia and Fibula left him feeling proud right down to the bones.
Somewhere upstairs, the sound of crockery crashing against a wall caught his attention. He winced, stared for a moment at his reflection in the mirror, then tossed back the champagne, downing the remainder in one gulp.
Behind him, a voice, deep and droll, murmured slowly, “She rises.”
In the holomirror, Roarke’s eyes shifted to meet Summerset’s. “I didn’t hear you come in, old friend.”
“It’s this RoarKo ChairE8 5000,” the butler stated, opening his arms as if to embrace the lighter-than-air conveyance in which he sat. “I simply cannot fathom how people used to transport their arthritic limbs about in devices that had wheels on them. Barbaric, and utterly impractical.”
Desperate to avoid the stomping noises coming from upstairs, Roarke lifted his voice above the cacophony. “I began working on the design just before your one hundred and thirtieth birthday last year. Happy to see it fits your needs.” Turning away from the mantel, he flicked a nervous glance at the ceiling. Barely able to keep the tremble from his tone, he went on, “I-I trust you have the air temp set at forty-five?”
Summerset gave a sharp nod. “Indeed I have, sir. It is my fondest wish, after all, to live to see one hundred and thirty-one.”
Overhead, the sound of footsteps thundering across the floor increased, reducing both men to apprehensive silence. Something else hit a wall and broke. On the other side of the study, the windows rattled as a woman began shouting at the top of her lungs.
Roarke eyed his champagne flute, wishing like hell it were full again. “H-Have any of the children arrived yet?”
The butler’s eyes still following the thuds and bumps above them, he whispered, “Your younger son beamed down from Phalanges early this morning.”
“He’s knuckled down to his studies, I trust?”
“Indeed, sir. And your daughter arrived earlier from Philtrum II.”
“She didn’t give you any lip, did she? So much like her mother she is.”
“No, sir.”
Roarke arched a brow. “And my eldest son. What of him?”
“He sent word that he and his family will be late,” Summerset said. “Though I’m told he hasn’t yet completed his research, the Interplanetary Commission is demanding his findings nonetheless. Apparently the binary blue moons of Scrotum VII are cooling more rapidly than anticipated, so he is offering his dictum today in the hopes of fulfilling their desires.”
“But will a premature explanation satisfy them?”
Summerset shrugged. “He promised he’d try to come later.”
A noise outside the study caught both men’s attention. Quickly turning his floating conveyance toward the opposite end of the room, Summerset whooshed toward the door at the far end.
“If there will be nothing else, sir, I’m getting the hell out of here.”
“Coward!” Roarke accused.
“Indeed, sir!” the butler shouted over his shoulder as the door closed firmly behind him, leaving Roarke to face her alone.
A moment later, Eve stomped into the study wearing nothing but a navy blue NRCPD t-shirt and cut-offs. Fingers curling into fists at her sides, her damp, steel gray hair hanging limply over her ears, she yelled, “Is it hotter than shit in here, or is it just me?”
Glaring at Roarke as though waiting for a logical answer, she wiped her sweaty brow with the towel she clutched in her hand.
“Lieutenant,” Roarke soothed as he huddled deeper into his parka. “If it’s too warm for you, I’d be happy to ship in an iceberg from---”
“Don’t get smart with me!” she snapped, then tugged at the neck of her t-shirt. “Hell. Why can’t that damned butler of yours keep this place at a comfortable temperature!”
“But darling Eve---”
“Don’t you darling Eve me!” She stopped abruptly. A puzzled expression crossed her face. Lifting her gaze, she looked around the study. “I know I came into this room for a reason,” she said softly under her breath. “Let’s see. I . . . I was upstairs, and then I came downstairs to get . . . to get . . . something . . .”
Without warning, she burst into tears and flung herself into Roarke’s arms. “I’m sorry!” she squeaked. “I don’t . . . I can’t . . . I just . . .” Looking up into his eyes, she sniffed. “My feet are hot! My skin is crawling! My heart is racing---”
“I see then that I haven’t lost my touch---”
“Don’t try and get out of this with charm, pal,” she barked, then shoved herself out of his arms. Placing her open palm against her forehead, she whimpered, “Are the kids here yet? Where are the kids? Are they hiding from me? They’re hiding from me, aren’t they? I’m bad. I’m a bad parent. I never should have reproduced. I should have stuck with solving the varied and heinous crimes that plague this city, and left motherhood to Mavis and Peabody and Nadine and all my other really feminine friends who have the maternal instincts I so obviously lack!”
“Look, Eve darling,” Roarke cajoled. “Why don’t we just go upstairs and have a tumble. You know how that always---”
“A tumble!” she screamed. “A tumble? Is that all you ever think about, Tommy Testosterone? Is that your solution to everything? Never mind that I suddenly have the sex-drive of a wooden spoon, or that my vagi-woo-woo is about as moist as a Martian desert! Oh, and my brain. My frickin’ brain functions about as well as a . . . a . . . a something. I forget. What was I going to say? Something about memory something?” She blinked up at him, bewilderment plain to see in the milky brown depths of her eyes. “Are the kids here yet? Did I ask you that already?”
Wiping the frost from his upper lip, Roarke tugged his gloves on more snugly, then approached his wife and put his arms around her.
“Relax, Lieutenant,” he whispered. “You’re retired from law enforcement now and don’t have to remember anything if you don’t want to. Aye, two of the children are about, and the other will hopefully arrive later. In your illustrious career, you solved some of the most disgusting, violent, foul, repugnant, vulgar, icky, yucky crimes of the century, made a name for yourself, bore three beautiful children, are the grandmother of two, live in any number of mansions, can afford to travel to any galaxy you wish on a moment’s notice, and are married to the hottest old man this side of the Crab Nebula.”
Her head came up. “You have crabs?”
“The hearing’s going too, is it?” When she cocked her head and blinked, he shouted, “Crab Nebula!”
“Well you don’t have to yell at me!” she yelled at him. “I’m not deaf!” When she began to cry again, Roarke placed his open palm against the back of Eve’s head and eased it down to his shoulder, turning her face gently away so she wouldn’t suffocate in the thickness of his parka.
“Look, there’s a lovely retirement community on Jupiter that I think you’d really---”
“My boobs sag,” she interrupted with a sorrowful whimper.
“I don’t care.”
“My butt sags, too.”
“Not to me, it doesn’t.”
“I’ve turned into a bitch.”
“Not true, Lieutenant. You’ve always been a bitch.”
“Really?” she said, lifting her head to search his eyes. Stomping her bare foot, she snarled, “Oh, you’re just saying that to make me feel better!”
“I’m not. It’s true. Ask anyone.”
She clung to him. “That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me, Roarke.” Tears trickled from her eyes down her face. She wiped them away and raised her head. “How come men don’t turn into a whole other person when they hit middle age?”
“God is obviously a man, darling Eve.”
She sniffed. “Thank you for putting up with me all these years, Roarke.”
“It’s occasionally been a pleasure, Lieutenant.”
“Roarke,” she said quietly. “Roarke . . .”
He arched a brow. “Something?”
She nodded. “We’ve been married for forty years, had three children together and been through any number incidents that would have killed, or at the very least maimed for life, lesser fictional characters.”
“Too true.”
Inhaling a deep breath, she said, “So don’t you think it’s about time you told me your first name?”
“We’ve been over this,” he warned. “Besides, why do you assume Roarke is my last name?”
“Because our children are named Roy Roarke, Rory Roarke, and Dora Roarke, Roarke!” She glared at him, mopped bits of sweat from her neck, then tossed the damp towel at his feet like a gauntlet. “What is your first name? Tell me now, or I swear, I’ll let my over-heated hormones loose, what there are left of them, and . . .”
“Joe.”
“. . . I swear to God that if you don’t . . .” Her breath caught. “Joe?” Her lashes fluttered as she absorbed what he’d just said. “Your name is Joe? Joe Roarke?”
“What?” he growled. “I suppose you were expecting something illustrious? Something the likes of Derek or Erik or Brad or Dylan or Reinhold or Cosmo? A name befitting my station in life, my zephamegamuchogigantokatrillions of dollars, my ownership of every building in every city on every planet in the galaxy?”
She shrugged. “Well, yeah, actually. Not too sure about Reinhold, though.” Sliding her arms around him, she laughed somewhat maniacally. “No matter, no matter, no matter.” Heaving a sigh, she said, “So, Joe, it’s almost the new century. We’ve had forty good years together so far. You gonna stick around for the next forty?”
He considered the possibilities. “Aye. If Ms. Robb continues placing our lives at hazard, involving us in interplanetary travel and daily bouts of wild monkey sex, I’m willing to sign on to go the distance.”
Eve tilted her head. “Even if it means doing it in a RoarKo ChairE8 5000?”
He winked at her. “Aye. Say, do you suppose Ms. Robb has any plans for us in our Golden Years?”
“You mean like Pensioned Off In Death?”
He narrowed one eye. “How about Dotage In Death, or maybe Senile In Death.”
“Well, after Menopause In Death, I suppose it would naturally follow.”
Roarke’s mouth flattened. “As long as there’s no Shriveled or Wilted In Death, if you get my meaning, I’ll be content.”
“There’s always Levitra In Death, sweetheart.”
Removing his gloves, Roarke caressed his wife’s damp cheek, then leaned down to plant a kiss on the top of her arctic red nose. “Always the problem solver, eh, Lieutenant?” he observed softly. “Through the hot flashes, fits of temper, shouting, weeping, mood swings, and then when you went into menopause, there’s never been a woman so fine a match for me as you.”
“Nor you for me,” she sniffled. “Promise me, Joe, no matter the title, no matter what perverted kinds of hell Ms. Robb puts us through day after day, year after year, decade after decade, and on and on and on, bestseller after bestseller after bestseller, no matter how old and tired we get---“
“Come to the point here, would you, Lieutenant?”
“Okay, it’s that no matter what, you and I will be together until The End . . . and beyond.”
Roarke nodded. “Even so far as In Death In Death, darling Eve, count me in. Now,” he said, tilting up her chin to gaze deeply into her eyes. “How about that tumble . . .” </span>
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przez pinksss » 19 kwietnia 2008, o 10:53
jeśli seria jest tak dobra jak ta parodia to chętnie przeczytam 
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- Ulubiona autorka/autor: Shelly Laurenston, Anne Stuart
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przez Jadzia » 22 kwietnia 2008, o 23:39
nie!
niee!!
i jeszcze raz nieee!!!
Patricka nawet lubię, ale Roarke to by był z niego kiepski.
niee!!
i jeszcze raz nieee!!!
Patricka nawet lubię, ale Roarke to by był z niego kiepski.
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przez pinksss » 22 kwietnia 2008, o 23:53
cały ten pomysł z ekranizacją to jest obawiam się, kiepski 
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przez Jadzia » 22 kwietnia 2008, o 23:56
Ale tak to już jest, że jak jest książka poczytna, to w końcu ktoś rzuci taki pomysł. Na forum Julii Quinn jest kilkustronowa dyskusja na temat wymarzonej obsady ewentualnej ekranizacji Bridgertonów. Przyznam, nie przeczytałam wszystkiego, a ponad połowy aktorów nawet nie kojarzę, ale sam pomysł jest i- jak widać - podoba się. Tak samo jest z Robb najwidoczniej.
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przez Lilia ❀ » 23 kwietnia 2008, o 00:03
na oficjalnym forum In Death jest ponad 700 stron na temat Hugh Jackmana jako Roarke 'a 
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przez Fringilla » 23 kwietnia 2008, o 00:20
zweryfikowane obiektywnie przez drugą osobę?
wracając do R. - naprawde nikt oprócz Jackmana?
wracając do R. - naprawde nikt oprócz Jackmana?
Kto przegląda forum
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