High Heels for Cinderella

Cinderella Story  

By Mrs.D~

It was February 12, a few days after a massive blizzard swept through the region, paralyzing towns and roads. The intense winds that followed the storm piled tall drifts by the doors, crippling the lives of people trapped inside their homes. The area was still digging out, but the breath of oncoming spring caressed the air, predicting the end of the harsh winter. The snow was melting in the afternoon sun, which was cheerfully burning on the rosy skyline. The crystal snowflakes sparkled on the trees, challenging the determined sun trying to melt them into gray slush.

Slowly driving through the tiny parking lot, sinking in the thick mush, she looked for a safe place to park her car. She finally parked it next to the lonely car shining with clean windows in the approaching sunset. The steep steps, buried in the melting snow, made her feel insecure and uncomfortable. Carefully walking in her high heel stilettos on the drenched path, winding between towering drifts, she beat herself up for saying yes to a blind date. It was one of those arrangements she always disliked.

The evening before the blizzard began, she received a call from a friend, who was helping deaf children in her old country.

“Can you help us with some papers.” She asked her to stop by their club and finish some work. When she arrived at the club, her friends were gathering by the merrily burning fireplace, enjoying the quiet snowfall through the wide window, sipping wine and eating homemade donuts. The papers were in a neat pile on the edge of the table, except for a few pictures purposely placed in the middle.

“We want you to meet someone.” One of her friends moved the pictures closer to where she was sitting.

“Not ready. Sorry,” she said, moving the pictures back without looking at them. Single for years, she dated people of her choice, but never let herself get attached to anyone. She always walked away as soon as men told her they wanted it all. Falling in love was not part of her plans.

“You can’t do this to us,” her friends protested as one, telling her how great he was and that one date would not kill her. “He is one of our biggest sponsors.” They surrounded her in a tight circle, convincing her that the blind date would do well for her and the man who had just joined the dating market.

“Don’t be stubborn. Say yes,” her good friend whispered as she poured more wine in her glass. “We already set up a date for you. Here is his address.” She pressed a piece of paper between her hand and glass.

“You devils are twisting my hands.” She laughed, hiding the address in her pocket. “So there is no work for me, I presume.” She smirked, anxious to leave before the blizzard began pounding the roads. “I hope he is worth your efforts.” She grinned as she left. After debating for days about her choice, she finally decided to go on her first blind date.

Now, making her way through the wet snow to his office, she was not at all sure of her decision.

Slipping on the thin layer of ice hidden under the sleet, she cursed herself for wearing high heels. Upset with herself, she grabbed the rail, which was covered in glittering snow. The glowing white powder fell to her feet, covering her high heel stilettos and wrapping her legs like wild snow cats.

 “Give me your hand.” She suddenly heard the voice above her, and without hesitation grabbed two outstretched hands. Their eyes locked for a second as he pulled her up from the snow.

 “Not the best choice for this weather,” he smiled, looking at her fancy shoes jutting from the snow. She blushed, feeling hot waves running through her body, burning her ears and cheeks.

“This is crazy.” She was ready to turn around and run barefoot through the snow back to her car.

“I lost my shoes on my first blind date.” She suddenly burst into a tense laugh, imagining her friends’ faces, when she told them what had happened.

“Sorry.” He smiled. “I will order rain next time.” He held her hands tightly, but gently; ready to come to her rescue if she slipped.

She let go of his hands as soon as she felt the firm wood underneath her freezing feet. Shaking snow from her dressy coat, she pulled herself together and walked through the opened door to his office. Not sure what to do next, she sat in the first chair she came across.

He was standing on the steps, shaking the snow from her beige shoes. Watching him through the open door, she observed him carefully, scrutinizing his appearance and body language. He inspected her high-heeled shoes like a shoemaker.

He was in his fifties, young looking, but short and bulky, not the sort of man she usually dated. His dark hair, slightly dusted with silver, did not move in the slight breeze. It was sleek and neat, as if he had just stepped out of a fancy magazine. His face, hardly touched by age, was friendly and charming. Full of energy and passion, his brown eyes promised comfort and stability. She liked his voice; deep and soothing, it made her feel safe and contented.

“Not my type,” she murmured to herself, as if she wanted to convince her analytical mind to agree with her feelings. Tall and slinky, she loved men who matched her height in heels.

“I am Dave.” He introduced himself, unexpectedly breaking her thoughts. Taking her hand in his palm, he slowly lifted her cold fingers to his lips. His kiss felt as if a soft snowflake had just landed on her trembling hand and gradually melted away from the heat generated by her nerves. It was a pleasant touch, one that she did not expect, but admired so much. She grew up in Europe and his gesture meant respect.

“Crystal shoes for Cinderella.” He smiled, bending to his knees. “Can we try?” He looked straight into her eyes, full of confusion and doubt.

“Frozen Cinderella.” She smiled nervously, hiding her cold feet under her coat.

“I hope I can melt my princess’s heart one day,” he joked, placing her shoes next to the chair. There was something soothing in his voice, something she had missed and desired for so long, something that did not match his old-fashioned jacket and silky hair, something that wanted her to give a chance to this gentle stranger, something that in a short period of time turned her old life upside-down and made her stop fighting with her mindset.

Afraid to get up, she sat in her chair, thinking how she would look next to him when she put her high heels on.

“Shall we?” He reached for her hand, ready to help her up.

She rose slowly, calculating her next move, wondering what to do with her high-heeled shoes that would make her a few inches taller than her date. He smiled. She debated.

“I am not sure,” she said.

“Let see.” He reached for her shoes. “May I?” He asked permission to put her shoes on her feet. She nodded and slid back into her chair.

“They fit perfectly!” He announced, smiling. “May I take my princess to the ball.” He bent his arm, ready to escort her to his car. She took her stilettos off and walked to the porch. Then one by one she hit them on the wooden rail until the heels fell into the icy mud. Holding on to the rail, she put her flat shoes on. Stunned, he whistled.

“I do not recall Cinderella sacrificing her shoes for the prince.” He reached for her hand.

“You owe me a dance.” She spun in her new flats, making her look much shorter.

“I am a lousy dancer,” he warned her, bending in elegant reverence.

“My feet can take a little bit more beating.” She giggled.

“Shall we? ” He moved her closer to his chest.

“Princess is ready, my Valentine.” She placed her hand on his shoulder … and trusted him with her second hand.

It has been nineteen years since they met. Every Valentine’s Day he sends her red roses and high-heeled shoes as a reminder of their first blind date.

Courtesy of Google 

(pictures are taken from Google) 

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© All Rights for the Text Reserved by Mrs.D.Books.

The Night Before Christmas

Magic of Christmas

Who doesn’t like stories about Christmas, family traditions, cats, and kittens? What could possibly go wrong in a story told from the cat’s viewpoint? But surprisingly, there is a story behind the story. Like all my other books, which are based on true events, The City Kittens and the Old House Cat includes two events that happened years ago.

One hot summer day, swimming in the pool, my younger daughter spotted something in the bushes.

“Mom! Look! Look! There is an animal hiding in the bushes.” She screamed, surprised.

“Oh dear,” I replied. “I hope it’s not another skunk or raccoon.” I left the pool and went to check on what was hiding inside the bush. To my amusement, a tiny kitten crawled out of the bush and rested its cute face on top of its tiny dirty paws.

“Hello, kitty!” I smiled at the little stranger, which was looking straight into my eyes.

Mew, the cute intruder replied, moving closer to my feet. Covered in dry mud and hay, it looked more like a porcupine than a calico kitten. It was teeny and playful, not old enough to leave its mom and take a long trip to our garden. Its white head, too big for its skinny neck, was covered in twisted fur mixed with pine needles and yellow grass.

“Where is your home, cutie?” I lifted the purring little stranger closer to my face. Feeling the warmth of my hands, the lost kitten clung to my shirt, looking for a mommy’s nipple.

“Where is your home?” I tried to examine its filthy collar, loosely hanging on the skinny neck.

Mew, the hungry drifter protested in a soft voice, sucking hard on my shirt.

“You must belong to someone.” I settled the tired kitten on my knees and let it enjoy my flannel T-shirt.

Purr… The kitten rolled on its back, still gripping my shirt in its tiny mouth.

“I am not your mom.” I tried to detach its small paws, which were poking my skin through the thin fabric of the shirt.

“I guess you are now.” My husband smiled from the pool, watching me cradling a sleepy kitten.

“How will we name the kitten?” my daughter asked as she touched the sleeping kitten.

“Nyda. It means found in English,” I replied, recalling my grandpa’s old story about the baby that was dropped on his neighbor’s doorstep. In the old days in Ukraine they called a found baby “nyda.”

“Not what I had in mind,” my little daughter said, disappointed. “But I found her, so the name suits her well.”

“Nyda it is.” I hugged my daughter tightly with my other hand.

“Let’s be friends, Nyda.” She petted the kitten’s widespread paw, which was still poking my stomach.

Nyda and my daughter became good friends, and I became Nyda's surrogate mother. Time passed. Many bad and good events took place in the life of the little explorer. An adventurer at heart, Nyda used more than nine lives while exploring the nearest woods and neighboring towns. But this is another story.

 Now Nyda had grown old and my daughter had moved to the city. The City Kittens and the Old House Cat is not the story of how Nyda was found. It is the story of how Nyda the old cat opened her heart to two playful kittens, brought home by my older daughter to celebrate Christmas at home.

The day before Christmas, the kittens arrived at our house in a fancy bag. Their noisy Christmassy collars annoyed the old cat all day. Frustrated with their playfulness and nosiness, Nyda judged them by their looks and spoiled attitude. But the story that the old cat heard the night before Christmas made her change her mind and realize that the kittens were not spoiled little things from the city. They were found outside a store, freezing in the cold and starving. So that made Nyda warm up to the newcomers and think that before you judge someone, you should learn their story.

The City Kittens and the Old House Cat recently won a prestigious Mom’s Choice Award. The detailed artwork in this award-winning children’s book is family-friendly and will appeal to any age. It is a short, sweet read for beginning readers and good for anyone who loves Christmas and cats. So light your fireplace, take off your boots, and read this compassionate story while cuddling with your child. I hope that the warmth of the story and its beautiful artwork will plant good seeds in the hearts of your little ones.  

The City Kittens and the Old House Cat is available in print in soft- and hardcover versions, and as an e-book. To order this book, please visit Amazon, B&N, or Dog Ear Publishing. All links are provided below. 

To get a better idea of this book, please check out this charming book trailer. It will lift your spirit and put you in the holiday mood, and maybe it will make you think about our little friends in a more compassionate way and do something for others. 

May you have a very Merry Christmas and happy and healthy holidays!

www.mrsdbooks.net

Learn as You Live

 Learn from Life

We’ve all been there with our kids... cluttered desks, things on the floor, boxes under the bed, clutter on the shelves, messy closets, and rooms looking as if a tornado had just traveled through them. How many times have we told our youngsters that if they do not clean their room, something bad might happen? They just smirked, gave us a strange look, or simply ignored our warnings.

“Just wait!” We bite our lips, not having any idea how to replace the cutest smirks on their faces with an ugly fear. Some of us gave up and let them drown in their own mess, but some like me were determined to find the solution to the messy room.

Often, children learn lessons when we least expect them. That was what happened to my young heroine in my multi-award-winning children’s book Runaway Clothes. This book was based on an event that happened in my home many years ago.

That day was no different from any other.

“A mess again,” I said, walking into my daughter’s room. She looked at me with her angelic blue eyes, stopped playing with her dolls, and started stuffing her clothes in the closet on top of her shoes.

“That’s not how I taught you to clean your closet.” I pulled her clothes from the closet. Losing my patience, I started folding her new and now wrinkled clothes.

“I’ll help you tomorrow,” my daughter said sweetly, as she picked up her doll from the floor.

“There is no tomorrow. We must clean it now.” I made a strict face, determined to teach her once again how to take care of her stuff.

“I’m busy, Mommy. Can’t you see that?” She kept playing with her dolls.

“Time out! Rules start now!” I walked her to the corner in the hall. That was the first time I punished my child, and I was serious about making it clear who was in charge. Having grown up in a place and family where violence took place every day, I did not believe in punishments that degrade a child and harm his or her self-worth.

I checked on her in a few minutes. “Are you ready to say sorry and go back to clean your room?” I asked.

“I’ll have to think about it.” She turned away her cute face. Watching her playing with her fingers and talking to herself, I felt terrible.

“Rules must be obeyed,” I said, as I walked away, convincing myself more than my child. I checked on her again in half an hour, but she said she was still thinking.

“OK. Think a little bit longer.” I left her alone for another half hour.

“Still thinking?” I asked when I returned.

“I like thinking,” she said quietly, looking at her fingers. Another half hour passed, but she still refused to clean her room.

“I love my corner,” she mumbled, looking down. Three hours passed and she was still standing in the corner. Worried, I was wondering how I could finish this teaching ordeal graciously and still make her understand that it was a serious punishment, not a game. Debating with my motherly feelings for another half hour, I was ready to apologize for placing her in the corner.

“One day your clothes will run away from you,” I said casually.

“Where they will go?” she asked, not turning her face from the corner.

“To our neighbors, or maybe your stuff will find another girl who will take better care of it.” I came up with the first excuse that popped into my head.

She thought for a second and then simply said, “Our neighbors have boys. They don’t need my clothes.”

Not sure how to handle her answer, I said, “Bad things happen when you least expect them.” Losing my battle, I removed her from the corner and tried to change the clothes conversation to something else. The rest of the day, I felt as if I had punished myself.

There must be other ways to get through her. I searched for the right resolution day after day. Weeks passed, but nothing changed. I pleaded, I explained, I bribed, I complained, but her clothes were still jammed in the closet.

But one day everything changed. The night before, I rewashed all her clothes and put them out to dry on the clothesline behind the house. In the morning, she knocked on my door.

“It happened, Mommy,” she said, horrified.

“What happened?” I looked at her sad face, ready to cry.

“All my clothes ran away,” she sniffled, heartbroken. “Just as you said.” She cried.

“Clothes have feelings too,” I said, hiding a smile. I told her that if she doesn’t respect her stuff, her toys might follow her clothes.

“I guess they will.” She sobbed quietly.

“You better hurry,” I said casually.

“OK, Mommy,” she said, walking away. My distraught girl had learned her lesson without me trying or preaching. I went outside to fold her clothes.

Writing this story, I saw a great opportunity to help families learn how to deal with an issue that drives every parent crazy. Going back in time, I always analyze my behavior and reactions that taught my children and me great lessons. Now, looking back on their mischievous misbehavior and the rules I tried to apply, I see things that I wish I had done differently. Like many parents, I naively thought I would have perfect children, just as I saw on the front page of parenting magazines—happy, smart, and well-behaved. The reality proved me wrong. There is no perfect child or parent. Parents and children learn from each other on a daily basis. Raising my girls, I learned that not every rule is written in stone, and that sometimes, unplanned lessons are the best teachers.

Memories of my children have always been my golden treasures when I write children’s stories. Every time I dig out some event from my children’s childhood, I discover something new, something I did not see in the past, something I overlooked. Now I can honestly say that over the years, the best lessons I learned were the ones that my children taught me. These lessons helped me to raise my girls into determined and ambitious young women, and I hope they will help other parents too.

The older I get, the more memories I collect. Some of them vanish with time, but some never leave. Happy or sad, funny or disappointing, they are part of my life and my stories. With age, I grew wiser and looked at things differently. The stuff that once drove me crazy and seemed so important then, appear funny now. As my grandfather would say, learn as you live.

Runaway Clothes is a beautifully illustrated, award-winning children’s book that will entertain and educate children without them realizing it. It was awarded Mom’s Choice Awards, Readers’ Favorite International Awards, has earned the Literary Classic Seal of Approval, and is recommended for home and school libraries. It is a great read for any age. If the children are too small to read it independently, the detailed illustrations will tell them the story of the runaway clothes. The beautiful book trailer below will provide insight into what this book is about. Runaway Clothes is available in print in hardcover and softcover form as well as e-book form.

You may order Runaway Clothes on Amazon, B&N, and through Dog Ear Publishing. Please see the links below:

I would be delighted to hear your opinions and suggestions. Your reviews are always welcome on Amazon, Goodreads, and B&N.

And please don’t forget to read with your child.

Their love for reading begins with YOU.

 WWW.MRSDBOOKS. NET

The Roads We Take

Since my children and I came to America almost 23 years ago, we have felt so blessed and welcomed by the country that became our home. In response, the least I can do as a writer is to repay that privilege, by trying to focus my professional contributions on the country and people who have been so supportive of children's literature. Having been a writer for three years now, I can safely say that I never thought I would be receiving  Mom's Choice Awards and Readers’ Favorite International Awards for my work. 

Winning something is not always easy. The road to victory changed me in many ways. In the last three years, I assure you, I have tried my best to get here, but there was always someone who outdid me. In retrospect, I think it was a good thing because it made me want to write better than I ever did. Never have I felt this intense passion to win an award or any accolade for that matter. I don't know what changed me, but whatever it was, I'm glad that it did. English is not my native language. I have faced many challenges, but each one of them has only strengthened me to make me the writer I am today. A thorough writer who knows exactly what she wants to write. Someone who sets her eyes on a goal and does not lose sight of it, unless it is achieved. 

I would never be where I am today without my wonderful editor, Frank Steele,  and the most talented illustrator Chanoa. Thank you so much, Frank, for tirelessly working on my books and improving my writing. Your encouragement to move ahead got me to this point. I am so blessed I have the privilege to work with you.

To write a story is only half the job. Through her amazing art Chanoa beautifully brought my stories to life. I am profoundly thankful to Chanoa for the opportunity to work together and create the most delightful books.   
  

Winning these awards would not have been possible without the inspiration I have received from my friends and family, for whom I have the deepest respect, and from whom I have derived the strength to challenge myself and perform better at each stage.

Let me tell you that it is not just my sole effort and passion that has brought me to this high point. I would like to make a special mention of my husband Patrick who has been the best supporter and fan of my writing for years.  It is only he who saw the passion in me when I couldn't see it myself. He saw my talent and helped me hone it so that I was able to focus on my writing and publishing books that matter for families and their children. Everyone needs to have such an inspiring and encouraging friend in life, and I am lucky to have found mine. Thank you so much my darling!

On a closing note, all I want to tell each one of you who is reading this post now, is that you should never, never, never give up, even if you are convinced that it's all over. It's not over unless you want it to be, and a true example of this is me,  proudly holding my medals.

To win you must first begin! Never give up or give in!

 Thank you very much for standing by me, when I need you the most my dear readers!

Book Review

Runaway Clothes by Mrs. D joins this author’s growing list of good quality children’s books. The illustrations in this volume are superbly drawn by the very talented Chanoa, making this a delight to read, regardless of your age. Young Nika awakens one morning to discover all her clothes are missing from her closet. She asks the hangers what they did with her clothes, but only manages to anger them, so the hangers run away, too. After pouting for a bit, Nika realizes she did not treat her clothes very nicely, so it’s her own fault they ran away. This epiphany makes her realize that her toys might also become sufficiently disenchanted to run away, and then how would she cope? To prevent such an eventuality, Nika decides to clean up her room like never before. She puts everything very neatly in its proper place, but is that enough to encourage her clothes to return to her closet?

Runaway Clothes is richly illustrated, with a hint of Anime influencing the drawings. The text of the story meshes perfectly with the illustrations; so much so, that you will find yourself pausing on each page to carefully peruse the illustrations after reading the text. Mrs. D has firmly established herself as one of this generation’s premier children’s authors. Readers are encouraged to visit her website, http://www.mrsdbooks.net/ for video trailers for each of her books… a definite plus when you need to select only one or two books out of a dozen or more choices. All of Mrs. D’s books that I’ve so far read have been based on actual events in her life, which makes it very easy to relate to them. If you’ve not yet discovered Mrs. D, Runaway Clothes is an excellent one with which to start. You will grow to treasure all her stories.

Book Review

The Royal Palm by Mrs. D. joins this author’s growing collection of richly illustrated and highly imaginative stories for children. In this latest tale, a beautiful specimen tree has been planted in a special garden, fulfilling her life-long wish to leave behind her small island and move to the mainland. While pondering the circumstances which brought her to that point, the silvery Royal Palm reflects upon the true friends she left behind, who accepted her just as she was in spite of her assumed arrogance toward them. She recalls the hurricane she thought would destroy her, and remembers how the smaller, more common palm trees rallied round her to protect her from the blowing sand, waves and wind. While she expects to be happy in her new life, she comes to the realization that she will always miss her old friends, regardless of how many new friends she may one day have.

The Royal Palm is a wonderful fantasy, told in the flowery language one might expect from an anthropomorphized tree, the wind, and other elements of a tropical paradise. Intended to facilitate the growth of a child’s imagination, this story also comes complete with a valuable life lesson. As they become a part of the story, young readers will learn to appreciate the other people in their lives. They will learn that it is not always wise to prejudge those around them because a day of reckoning may come when those whom they might think poorly of will become the ones on whom the child must depend for help. Although understated, The Royal Palm shouts loud and clear to young readers: “Don’t judge by appearances. It’s what’s inside that counts.” This very well-written tale from Mrs. D. is a must-have, particularly for early/intermediate readers.

Book Review

Good Morning, World! by the mysterious Mrs. D, is a classic children's book. The illustrations were rendered superbly, in brilliant and vivid colors, by Eladziem. This is not another “A-B-C” book, or “1-2-3” learner. In fact, what this book teaches best is reading! I find it noteworthy that the text seems geared to an older audience than do the illustrations. That arrangement is ideal for when an older sibling wants to read to “the baby”. Mrs. D. has crafted a superb children’s book in Good Morning, World! 

The entire story revolves around Baby Thomas being pushed in his stroller by his grandfather through the local park. Baby Thomas is a very cheery, happy little boy, who shouts out a “Good Morning” to everything he sees, including the sun and clouds, trees and flowers, frogs and lizards, birds and puppies, joggers and mommies. Meanwhile, Grandpa is a disgraceful excuse for a grandfather. Rather than cherish time with his young grandson, he gripes about everything, even to the point of griping about things that aren’t even happening, such as the imaginary crocodiles sunning themselves along the trail! 

This book provides an exceptional opportunity for teaching children about attitudes and the choice each of us has to be happy or dismal. The vibrant, compelling illustrations perfectly complement this story, providing much opportunity for teaching numerous other facts, such as having the child find the frog, or the sun, or the flowers, or the ladybugs. Mrs. D. and Eladziem work very well together, in producing an all-around great story book for stimulating young brains and teaching them concepts.

Book Review

Have you ever moved to a new place and felt all alone because you had no friends? That’s what this beautiful book is about. This young girl was not only new with no friends, she couldn’t speak the language of those in her new hometown. This girl finds comfort in the beautiful garden at her new home, the mysterious wind becoming her first imaginary friend. As she spends time in the garden, the trees begin to talk to her, and these three trees became her friends as well. This leads to a beautiful imaginary world to this young one, helping her cope with the loneliness she faces.

This is a lovely book for young girls, and especially young girls who face loneliness because of being in a new place. They are sure to find peace and encouragement in the special values taught in The Trees Have Hearts. Mrs. D does a wonderful job of reaching out to kids in a unique way in this book. The beautiful trees give warmth and peace as they spread their blooms throughout the garden and into the hearts of those who read this book. The cover is beautiful and appealing, and the illustrations and colors throughout the book are adorable, heartwarming, and peaceful. Any young girl would want to snatch this book from the shelves to have as their own. I encourage parents of young girls to purchase this one for your child’s library. And even if you haven’t found yourself moving lately, this book can still have a positive impact on your child’s self confidence.

Book Review

In The Little Girl Praying on the Hill, we find a story filled with heartbreak, pain, suffering, as well as joy and peace. Even with all of these various emotions, this little girl is challenged within herself to find her purpose and reason for living. Having a strong and vivid imagination sometimes got her into trouble as she would forget her chores. Her father was a drunk and her mother carried more than her fair share of the load. She longed for a time when her father wouldn't be drunk. He promised her time and again that he wouldn't drink any longer, only to not live up to those promises. She used her imagination as a powerful way to escape the problems of living in her environment, all of the hard work and her drunken father. She would rather live in imaginary castles and lands than the one she was in.

Reaching out to better understand God's will for a little girl's life, we find author Olga D. Agostino taking the reader along a very disturbing trail that shares various emotions and feelings. In The Little Girl Praying on the Hill, there is also the description of a baby sister's death, the beating from a mother and wanting to die herself. This book is filled with sorrow and pain, yet also of how a little girl chooses hope and determines to find a way to make it in a sad and uncaring world. This is a book to encourage the reader that no matter what one's circumstances are, there can be better times ahead.

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