Good to see you like Bossa Nova.
Bossa Nova artist drink on Jazz origins. The fact is that Jazz came first. But in Bossa Nova the artist turn the news into brazilian context in a great and very sonore style. Probaly that's why you find it similar.
Personally I love it, especially because its the origin of the MPB(another brazilian music line). But Bossa Nova was not only a music style; for me it was the old photographs of an Époque(Belle?) of Brazil; where Rio(more exactly Ipanema[where I live] was the hoster of the artist scenario.
I most recomend an Artist nammed "Tom Jobim", who was also master of Chico Buarque(MPB). He wrote and sing some songs with Sinatra, some of them in English. Some songs like "Águas de Março"(Waters of March), "Garota de Ipanema"(Girl of Ipanema), "Anos Dourados"(Golden Years), "Insensatez"(Sorry, I dont remember any similar word) and "Passarim" (Little Bird?) were the most famous of his work. In the present I use to go in the Bar he use to go(that now have his name), its very kind(since I don't see him alive).
My favorite Jobim's song is Waters of March, remember me a bucolic, peacefull context in a fragmented, metaphorical lyric; in fact remember me the place I wish to go.

. But the sound(swing?) of the song is as important as the lyric.
Waters of March(Since the original was in Portuguese I hope this version don't loose too much)
A stick, a stone, it's the end of the road,
It's the rest of a stump, it's a little alone,
It's a sliver of glass, it is life, it's the sun,
It is night, it is death, it's a trap, it's a gun.
The oak when it blooms, a fox in the brush,
The nod of the wood, the song of a thrush,
The wood of the wing, a cliff, a fall,
A scratch, a lump, it is nothing at all.
It's the wind blowing free, it's the end of a slope,
It's a bean, it's a void, it's a hunch, it's a hope.
And the riverbank talks of the Waters of March,
It's the end of the strain, it's the joy in your heart.
The foot, the ground, the flesh and the bone,
The beat of the road, a sling-shot stone,
A truckload of bricks in the soft morning light,
The shot of a gun in the dead of the night.
A mile, a must, a thrust, a bump,
It's a girl, it's a rhyme, it's a cold, it's the mumps.
The plan of the house, the body in bed,
And the car that got stuck, it's the mud, it's the mud.
Afloat, adrift, a flight, a wing,
A ****, a quail, the promise of spring.
And the riverbank talks of the Waters of March,
It's the promise of life, it's the joy in your heart.
A point, a grain, a bee, a bite,
A blink, a buzzard, a sudden stroke of night,
A pin, a needle, a sting, a pain,
A snail, a riddle, a wasp, a stain.
A snake, a stick, it is John, it is Joe,
A fish, a flash, a silvery glow.
And the riverbank talks of the Waters of March,
It's the promise of life in your heart, in your heart.
A stick, a stone, the end of the load,
The rest of a stump, a lonesome road.
A sliver of glass, a life, the sun,
A night, a death, the end of the run.
And the riverbank talks of the Waters of March,
It's the end of all strain, it's the joy in your heart.
Tom Jobim- 1972
This is the one of the English informative sites about Jobim and Bossa Nova
Jobim-Bossa Nova