Read Online The Cinderella Project (A Comedy of Love, #1) by Stan Crowe - Free Book Online

hand take mine. I shook the limp limb and gave her a reassuring smile. She blushed unexpectedly.
    I grabbed a chair and placed it in the corner of the room opposite where Daisy had been sitting. Daisy hopped up to join me, so instead of sitting I pointed to another kitchen chair and asked Moiré, “You too?”
    “Naw. I get the beanbag. ” With that, Moiré went to the side of the couch and hauled out something resembling a half-ton toasted marshmallow. She held it in front of her and literally dove between Daisy and me. It looked fun and I enjoyed seeing her casual side. I smiled and sat. Daisy looked like a kid who’d just lost a favorite toy to her parents.
    Tisha inserted the movie and it rewound without incident. Two minutes later, the standard FBI message was on the screen, warning us against the evils of copying Kris Kissy’s fictional tale or using the tape for commercial purposes. I pulled out my notebook and the movie began.
    “Wait!” Tisha said, jumping up and hitting the stop button. “We can’t do this.”
    We all looked at her.
    “Can’t do what, Tee?” Moiré asked.
    “Watch a movie. Not without popcorn.”
    “You’re right,” Daisy said in all seriousness. “I think this big chunk’a man straight took my mind off the most important part of movie watchin’.”
    With that, I was dragged into the kitchen. Bridgette and Dean quietly moved out onto the patio as the kitchen came alive with activity. Moiré, Tisha and Daisy bustled about grabbing popcorn kernels, bowls, an old air popper and some butter.
    Something in one of the cupboards caught my eye. “Hey, Moiré?” I asked, the next time she brushed past. “Is that sweetened condensed milk?
    Moiré eyed me suspiciously. “Yeah. Why?”
    “You said you raid the fridge here, right?”
    “Sometimes, yeah?”
    “Ever raid the cupboards?” I looked back at the small, white can and grinned.
    She followed my gaze and quirked an eyebrow.
    “Just trust me,” I told her.
    Before the girls knew what was happening, I was strapped into a hot pink apron (too tight!) decked in five yards of lace and more bows than Courier John had brain cells. I did my best Swedish Chef impression as I tossed ingredients into a saucepan. I’d helped Mom make this stuff every year since I was eight and I had it down to a science. The girls caught on quick and were soon enjoying my caramel quest more than they’d enjoyed making popcorn. Moiré’s laughter did weird things to my insides. It took me at least ten minutes to realize I’d been smiling exclusively at her the whole time. She hadn’t taken her eyes off me once. Somehow, I still managed not to burn the caramel. When the gooey goodness was done, we made caramel popcorn balls good enough to bring about world peace. I surrendered the apron and we retreated to the living room.
    The movie resumed. The retro synth vibes were awesome; the hairstyles and clothing had us in stitches. With no nostalgia to help us connect to “Gen X,” the movie was now a comedy.
    “A Time for Kris Kissy” played out like so many of the romance films and books I’d digested. Classic Cinderella story set in the mean streets of a nameless town that was probably meant to be New York City, or maybe Detroit. Horribly cliché at any rate. Kristen Kissinger (a.k.a. “Kris Kissy”) grew up under the harsh regime of her dad’s third wife, who frequently insisted that Kris was “a nuthin’ and a nobody.” Kris, of course, had her big dreams, managed to get herself into some art academy and attract the attention of a hotshot dancing star because of her “diamond in the rough” status and dancing skills. The two end up in a “forbidden love” scenario, with all the world conspiring to kill their burgeoning romance. Thankfully, hormones conquered all. Kris and her steroid-sucking dance partner (whose hair was an unkempt poodle) went on to win some big competition and share their victory in teenage bliss.
    Nothing new. Nothing