Product Description

New York Times bestselling author Jennifer Crusie brings humor and storytelling magic to this modern-day romance of a match made anywhere but in heaven—but destined for a fairy-tale ending.


Daisy Flattery is a free spirit with a soft spot for strays and a weakness for a good story. Why else would she agree to the outrageous charade offered by her buttoned-down workaholic neighbor, Linc Blaise? The history professor needs to have a fiancée in order to capture his dream job, and Daisy is game to play the role. But something funny happens on their way to the altar that changes everything. Now, with the midnight hour approaching, will Daisy lose her prince, or will opposites not only attract but live happily ever after?
 

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #10336 in Books
• Published on: 2010-01-26
• Released on: 2010-01-26
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• 288 pages

About the Author
Jennifer Crusie is the bestselling and award-winning author of more than fifteen contemporary novels. Her work has been published in twenty countries.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Chapter One



The storm raged dark outside, the light in the hallway flickered, and Lincoln Blaise cast a broad shadow over the mailboxes, but it didn’t matter. He knew by heart what the card on the box above his said:

Daisy Flattery

Apartment 1B

Stories Told, Ideas Illminated

Unreal but Not Untrue

Linc frowned at the card, positive it didn’t belong on a mailbox in the dignified old house he shared with three other tenants. That was why he’d rented the apartment in the first place: it had dignity. Linc liked dignity the way he liked calm and control and quiet. It had taken him a long time to get all of those things into his life and into one apartment. Then he’d met his downstairs neighbor.

His frown deepened as he remembered the first time he’d seen Daisy Flattery in the flesh, practically hissing at him as he shooed a cat away from his rebuilt black Porsche, her dark, frizzy hair crackling around her face like lightning. Later sightings hadn’t improved his first impression, and the memory of them didn’t improve his mood now. She wore long dresses in electric colors, and since she was tall, they were very long, and she was always scowling at him, her heavy brows drawn together under that dumb blue velvet hat she wore pulled down around her ears even in the summer. She looked like somebody from Little House on the Prairie on acid, which was why he usually took care to ignore her.

But now, staring down at the card on her mailbox, appropriately backlit by the apocalyptic storm, he knew there was a possibility he might actually have to get to know her. And it was his own damn fault.

The thought gave him a headache, so he shoved his mail into his jacket pocket and went up the stairs to his apartment and his aspirin.

Downstairs, Daisy Flattery frowned too, and cocked her head to try to catch again the sound she’d heard. It had been something between a creaking door and a cat in trouble. She looked over at Liz to see if she was showing signs of life, but Liz was, as usual, a black velvet blob stretched out on the end table Daisy had rescued from a trash heap two streets over. The cat basked in the warmth from the cracked crystal lamp Daisy had found at Goodwill for a dollar. The three made a lovely picture, light and texture and color, silky fur and smooth wood and warm lamp glow. Unbelievably, fools had thrown away all three; sometimes the blindness of people just amazed Daisy.

“Hello?” The petite blonde across the chipped oak table from Daisy waved her hand. “You there? You have the gooniest look on your face.”

“I thought I heard something,” Daisy told her best friend. “Never mind. Where was I? Oh, yeah. I’m broke.” She shrugged at Julia across from her. “Nothing new.”

“Well, you’re depressed about it. That’s new.” Julia took a sugar cookie from the plate in front of her and shoved the rest toward Daisy with one manicured hand, narrowly missing Daisy’s stained glass lamp. The lamp was another find: blue, green, and yellow Tiffany pieces with a crack in one that had made it just possible for her to buy it. The crack had been the clincher for Daisy: with the crack, the lamp had a history, a story; it was real. Sort of like her hands, she tried to tell herself as she compared them to Julia’s. Blunt, paint-stained, no two nails the same length. Interesting. Real.

Julia, as usual, had missed color and pattern completely and was still on words. “Also, you’re the one who has to come up with the bucks for the feline senior cat chow. I should eat so good.”

“Right.” Daisy scrunched up her face. She hated thinking about money, which was probably why she hadn’t had much for the past four years. “Maybe leaving teaching wasn’t such a good idea.”

Julia straightened so fast, Liz opened an eye again.

“Are you kidding? This is new. I can’t believe you’re doubting yourself.” She leaned across the table to stare into Daisy’s eyes. “Get a grip. Make some tea to go with these cookies. Tell me a story. Do something weird and unpractical so I’ll know you’re Daisy Flattery.”

“Very funny.” Daisy pushed her chair back and went to find tea bags and her beat-up copper teakettle. She was sure the tea bags were in one of the canisters on the shelf, but the kettle could be anywhere. She opened the bottom cupboard and started pawing through the pans, books, and paintbrushes that had somehow taken up housekeeping together.

“I’m not kidding.” Julia followed her to the sink. “I’ve known you for twelve years, and this is the first time I’ve heard you say you can’t do something.”

Daisy was so outraged at the thought that she pulled her head out of the cupboard without giving herself enough clearance and smacked herself hard. “Ouch.” She rubbed her head through her springy curls. “I’m not saying I can’t make it as an artist.” Daisy stuck her head back into the cabinet and shoved aside her cookie sheets long enough to find her teakettle and yank it out. “I believe in myself. I just may have moved too fast.” She got up and filled the kettle from the faucet.

“Well, it’s not like you ever move slow.” Julia took down canisters one by one, finally finding the tea in a brown and silver square can. “Why did you put the tea in the can that says ‘cocoa’? Never mind. Constant Comment or Earl Grey?”

“Earl Grey.” Daisy put the kettle on the stove and turned up the heat. “This is a serious moment, and I need a serious tea.”

“Which is why I’m drinking Constant Comment.” Julia waggled her long fingers inside the canister and fished out two tea bags. “I have no serious moments.”

“Well, pretend you’re having one for me.” Daisy sighed, envying Julia’s optimism. Of course, Julia hadn’t quit a safe and solid teaching job to become a painter, or spent the past four years living on her savings until she didn’t have any. Daisy felt her head pound. “Julia, I don’t think I can do this anymore. I’m tired of scraping to pay my bills, and I’m tired of trying to sell my paintings to people who don’t understand what I’m doing, and I’m tired—” She bit her lip. “I’m so tired of worrying about everything.” That was the thing, really; she was worn down from the uncertainty. Like water on a rock; that was what the edge of poverty did to you.

“So what are you going to do?” Julia asked, but somewhere there was a faint sound, half screech and half meow, and Daisy cocked her head again instead of answering.

“I swear I hear a cat crying,” she told Julia. “Listen. Do you hear anything?”

Julia paused and then shook her head. “Uh-uh. Your water’s starting to boil. Maybe that’s it.”

Daisy took the kettle off while Julia took down two mismatched cups and saucers, plunking her Constant Comment tea bag in a Blue Willow cup and Daisy’s Earl Grey in the bright orange Fiestaware. Daisy poured the hot water over the bags and said, “Pretty” as the tea color spread through the cups.

“Forget the pretty tea.” Julia picked up her cup and carried it back to the table. “You’re in crisis here. You’re out of money and you can’t sell your paintings. How’s the storytelling going?”

“Budget cuts.” Daisy sat down across from her with her own cup and saucer. “Most libraries can’t afford me, and it’s a slow time for bookstores, and forget schools entirely. They all say I’m very popular and they’ll use me again as soon as possible, but in the meantime I’m out of luck.”

“Okay.” Julia crinkled her nose as she thought. “How else were you making money? Oh, the jewelry. What about the jewelry?”

Daisy winced with guilt. “That’s selling, but Howard won’t give me the money until the end of the month. And he owes me from the end of last month, but he’s holding on to that too. It’s not that much, about a hundred, but it would help.” She knew she should go in and demand her jewelry money, but the thought of Howard sneering at her wasn’t appealing. He looked so much like her father that it was like every summer she’d ever spent with him condensed into two minutes.

Julia frowned at her. “So how much do you need? To keep the wolf from the door, I mean.”

Daisy sighed. “About a thousand. Last month’s rent, this month’s rent, and expenses. That would get me to when Howard pays and then maybe something else would turn up.” That sounded pathetic, so she took a deep breath and started again. “The thing is, I quit so I could paint, but I’m spending all my time trying to support myself instead of concentrating on my work. I thought I’d have a show by now, but nobody understands what I’m doing. And even though I almost have enough paintings for a show, I’m not sure what I’m doing is right for who am I now anyway.”

Julia sipped her tea. “Ouch. Hot. Blow on yours first. What do you mean, you’re not sure what you’re doing is right? I love your paintings. All those details.”

“Well, that’s it.” Daisy shoved her tea away to lean closer. “I like the details too, but I’ve done them. I think I need to stretch, to try things that are harder for me, but I can’t afford to. I’m building my reputation on primitive narrative paintings; I can’t suddenly become an abstract express...

Customer Reviews

Jennifer Crusie at her Best!
I can't believe I haven't reviewed this book yet! This is my favorite contemporary romance of all time! Smart, sexy, funny, human....My HIGHEST 5-star rating. I can't rave about the quality of writing in this book enough. Great setting, characters, story-- A small, perfect, pleasing gem.

Eccentric Daisy Flattery collects thrift-store furniture, stray cats, and wishes her life were as interesting as the stories she tells.
When her upstairs, uptight, but incredibly gorgeous neighbor Linc Blaise needs a fiancee to clench a position as a history professor in a small-town college, he, against his better judgment, can't think of anyone who could lie better than Daisy Flattery, professional storyteller (and starving artist).
Linc, a workaholic, with his chrome-and-glass furniture and black Porshe has his life just the way he wants it. He finds himself maddened but attracted-against-his-will to Daisy, with her stray cats, cracked Tiffany lamps, and compulsion to embellish her life at faculty gatherings.
When Linc and Daisy conveniently break up after Linc is hired for the position at the college, the chair of Linc's department makes it clear that a fiancee/wife was part of the bargain. Linc is sufficently compelled to make a temporary "Cinderella Deal" with Daisy that will change them both.

This book is so good the above synopsis doesn't do it justice. Jennifer Crusie's other novels provide the best example of her unique, sharp dialogue. Daisy Flattery-Blaise is a frizzy-haired, granny-dress-wearing romantic and also a feminist. She won't change who she is to please Linc or anybody else. The melding of these two characters is riotous, clever, and pleasing.
FYI: Published in 1996 by Loveswept, this romance is now out-of-print, but well-worth finding. It is the length of a serial romance.

Definitely not a pumpkin
One of the best romances Ive ever read. A story of a real (and unorthodox) woman who meets a real (and orthodox man). A wicked stepfather, a pretend marriage and a procession of animals keeps the story out of the minds of the characters and in the imagination of the reader. Funny and touching with no incidences of rape, undue influence, physical abuse and victorian morality poipular in traditional romances. A good read for real women.

Funny & tender
"The Cinderella Deal" is a beautifully tender and moving romance. It may be one of Crusie's earlier works, but her inexperience isn't obvious. Crusie manages to inject both funny and touching moments into a wonderfully developed romance.

Linc and Daisy are two very different people, and at first they aren't sure whether they really like one another. But gradually, Linc begins to appreciate Daisy's warmth and compassion, and Daisy notices Linc's steadfastness and deep-rooted passion. Gradually, they come to truly know and love one another in a very special, moving way. This is -not- your typical genre romance.

Both main characters are well-developed, as are the secondary characters. The earnestness of the characters, and Crusie's incredible gift for conveying emotional depth, make this truly a wonderful romance.

"The Cinderella Deal" is a prize, not just for Crusie fans, but also for those who love a good romance. It's also a hoot! I truly hope that the publishers realize what a possible audience they have for earlier Crusie titles ... and gives us some reprints. Personally, I am thankful for interlibrary loan!