A Guide to Accidentally Getting Everything Wrong

Date Published: September 7, 2026

A night shift in an abandoned psychiatric hospital.

You learn to laugh. Fast.

Arriving in England for a fresh start, the author quickly discovers that the
English language is a minefield of polite confusion, baffling idioms, and
linguistic traps. Without the vocabulary to express who she is, daily life
becomes a high-stakes game of translation roulette at the absolute bottom of
the career ladder.

Spanning decades through the beating heart of the British workforce—from
factory lines and catering at Heathrow to securing film sets and government
buildings—her biggest opponent isn’t the long hours; it’s the English
dictionary.

Navigating professional environments with a mismatched vocabulary leads to
spectacular, unintentional blunders. From mixing up sound-alike words to
translating idioms far too literally, every shift becomes a lesson in how
easily things get lost in translation.

Yet, behind the comedy lies a deeply personal struggle: the quiet isolation of
startincover. When pressure peaks, remarkable encounters and a profound return
to faith offer a path to true transformation.

Fluent in Faux Pas is a warm, witty, and wonderfully honest memoir—a
celebratory story of resilience and an inspiring reminder that the best parts
of life are often found when we are completely lost in translation.

About the Author

 Daniela Hristova arrived in the UK with an English vocabulary consisting of
little more than “teabag” and a background as a multi-media journalist,
actress, and singer who had spent years working in television, radio,
newspaper, and stage in her home country. With a diverse professional journey
that later ranged from wielding a mop to building a career in leadership and
court security, she has navigated life’s twists with a steady faith, a sharp
eye, and a wonderfully dry sense of humor. Channeling her unique experiences
and cultural blunders into the written word, she has penned a witty tribute to
the resilience it takes to start over. When she isn’t writing or tackling new
adventures, she enjoys spending time with her family and her dog, Dea. Fluent
in Faux Pas is her debut memoir.

Contact Link

BookBuzz

Amazon

Crime Thriller / Suspense

Date Published: 09-07-2026

Publisher: Mission Point Press

About the Author

Bob’s extraordinary musical abilities were the subject of numerous brain
studies, which have inspired a popular RadioLab podcast.

Little did they know that Bob was also a talented writer.

For years he wrote articles about his saloon-playing days for music
publications. Many of these stories were compiled into a book called The
Journeyman Piano Player: Adventures in Gracious Dining. Bob has written reams
of poetry, some of which became lyrics to songs that he composed. The longest
piece of poetry he ever wrote was the lyric book for The Legend of Sleepy
Hollow, a grand opera he composed and orchestrated.

Mr. Milne has been fascinated by nature his entire life. At a young age he
realized that instincts are present in all species of birds, mammals
(including humans), and literally every living thing in nature. He has used
this information countless times over his lifetime to predict what the human
species will do in future situations.

Bob is now retired from the long piano tours and is enjoying his woodland
home. Today he spends his time studying nature in the woods. Signed copies of
his book may be purchased through his website.

Website

Goodreads

Facebook

https://mybook.to/TurtleLake

Amazon

Date Published: 05-23-2025

Publisher: Holy Cow! Press

In this memoir, Stephanie Mirocha weaves a blend of botany, philosophy,
personal reflections, and healing through nature from grief after the loss of
her father. Trees provide the backdrop of friendly support she clings to as
she revives her father’s educational Tree Trek. She “speaks for the trees,”
bringing enthusiasm to the treks she leads. Each chapter focuses on the
science of a different tree, connecting the reader with the beauty of nature,
and the vitality that comes from listening to the guiding wisdom of one’s
inner voice.

They reflect what we need, like healing from grief, as we focus both within
ourselves and beyond ourselves at the same time. In this way, trees bring us
home.

Let’s fill in my dad’s blank with juniper. Imagine a juniper
coming into view as we walk through the forest. Juniper stands there pure,
unmasked, with no agenda at all. Something makes us stop and admire her,
feeling her truth flow through us. What does juniper give us? Different things
for different people. She is just benignly there, presenting her dark blue
“berries” amidst her prickly fronds, always extending an
invitation to rest beneath for a while and contemplate…what?

That is for you to find out!

There are many paths to take through grief. Nature offers one way to help move
through this powerful emotion and find our way forward, but each path is
different and deeply personal. As you walk with me on my grief trek through
the trees in these pages, my hope is to open one possible doorway for you to
process your own suffering. I have found that spending time in nature offers a
trail leading directly into the heart, and, at the very least, to a sense of
calm. This is doable for everyone because we are part of nature. The calmness
we find beyond ourselves reflects the meditative truth and beauty of our own
inner wisdom shining from within. One key moment is all it takes to start
things in motion

Website

Facebook

Goodreads

Instagram

Amazon

Bookshop

LGBTQ Rockstar Romance

Date Published: September 4, 2026

After Julian’s sister sets him up with a charming Frenchman, Rahul
thinks he may be getting over Julian, especially since Julian is back with his
ex, Michael. Their band is finally taking off and the future seems bright.
Then Julian hints he may return Rahul’s feelings. But what might happen
if they become more than friends?

WARNING: Violence, Drinking/Substance use, Mentions of murder, Trauma/PTSD.

Julian’s flat was a disaster, but Mel couldn’t be sure if it was
on account of Julian tearing the place apart in a fit of pique or if it was
always like this. Based on what his room had been like when she and her big
brother had lived at home, she didn’t really doubt this was just the way
he lived.

Mel hadn’t been here since the day Julian had moved in three years ago.
She saw enough of her brother at the place where they worked, the place where
they drank, and the place where they performed. She hardly needed to come
round his place to get even more time with the manic muppet.

Julian even did devastation manic. He was pacing around the living room,
pulling at his hair, talking a mile a minute. Mel could hardly keep up with
what he was saying, if he was saying anything at all and not just babbling
incoherently.

“… just a jazzy giraffe freak clomping around my life with his
big stupid hooves and not even looking for oncoming traffic or
anything… wouldn’t even slow down at a zebra crossing, even if
there was kids in it, or like countryside sheep or whatever… just plow
right through ‘em — WHAM — ‘sorry, missus, was this your
daughter sheep? Too bad, I’m after Julian, can’t slow down or
I’ll lose him!’ Honestly, it’s like he
isn’t…”

Mel grabbed a handful of Julian’s fake leather jacket as he came past
and yanked him down onto the sofa beside her. He looked startled and
disorientated, like a somnambulist being unceremoniously awoken. He blinked at
Mel as though only just now noticing her.

“You’ll give yourself an aneurysm going on like that,” Mel
said coolly, lighting up a cigarette.

Her words were the scissors that cut the strings of Julian’s loosely
gathered sanity. He crumpled in on himself, burying his face in his hands. For
one horrified moment, Mel thought he might be crying. But he just groaned, a
long pitiful noise like that of a wounded animal.

“It’s all gone tits up, hasn’t it?” he mumbled into
his palms.

It had in fact, in Mel’s opinion, gone tits up. Julian’s best
friend, Rahul — the “jazzy giraffe freak” — had told
Julian’s creepy blond boyfriend, Michael, that Rahul and Julian had
slept together. Michael had ended things with Julian. Julian had clobbered
Rahul (a very un-Julian-like thing to do). Rahul then confessed his undying
love for Julian and Julian had… run off. Cowardly little prick.

Rahul wasn’t just Julian’s best friend, he was also the most
musically talented member of their band — a band Mel played bass in, mind.
Without him, the band would dissolve into nothing and Julian would be left
rudderless. He lived for their shite band. Hell, he lived for Rahul. The two
of them needed each other like foxes needed bins. This melodramatic
love-triangle nonsense was going to make all of their lives positively
implode. Well, maybe not Mel’s life. She owned a record shop and
she’d be fine. And maybe not Kwambe’s life either. He was too cool
to be affected by anything. But definitely Julian and Rahul’s lives, and
Mel had sworn, years ago when her and Julian’s mum had started drinking,
that she would look out for her empty-headed brother and keep him safe.
She’d been fixing his life ever since. She’d be damned if she
wasn’t going to fix it this time.

“It ain’t so bad,” Mel told Julian. She nudged him until he
peeked out between the fingers he held over his eyes. She extended a cigarette
to him. He took it and let her light it for him. It was the most affectionate
gesture she’d offered him in quite some time. “One of you could be
dead. That’d really be something to cry about.”

He threw her a withering glare with his red-rimmed eyes.

“So, you shagging that Michael bloke, then?”

Julian choked slightly on the smoke in his throat. He’d never told her,
in so many words, that he was dating Michael. Michael had just shown up one
day, hanging around Julian, while Julian stared at him with the eyes of a boy
looking at a bloody Christmas tree. Julian had also never told her he was a
bit bent either, but Mel had worked that out on her own, too.

Julian fidgeted with the cigarette butt in his fingers. It was odd to see
him… if not embarrassed, then apprehensive. He usually did things like
he couldn’t give a shit what others thought, though Mel knew that was a
load of horse shite. He acted like he didn’t care, but no one cared more
what other people thought than Julian Collier. He’d been caring since
they were kids, only he’d gotten better at pretending. The thing is,
when you want people to think you’re really cool, you have to get them
to think you don’t care what they think. Julian was also obsessed with
people thinking he was a little daft. That much was lucky, because, as far as
Mel was concerned, he was a little daft.

He nervously pushed his fringe off his forehead only for it to flop back down
at an uneven angle. “Yeah. Or, well, I was.”

“He chucked you ‘cause you and Rahul shagged?”

“That sounds like we did it yesterday,” Julian whinged. “It
was ages and ages ago. Back at uni. And we were both drunk as you like. It
didn’t even count, if you ask me.” Despite himself, he was going
quite red around the ears and getting splotchy red patches high on his cheeks.
“I’d forgotten all about it. I can’t even believe Rahul
remembered. And that he told Michael. Imagine that!”

It was all coming together now. She remembered the trip Julian had taken up
North to visit Rahul, only to come back one day early, all jumpy and not
wanting to talk about it. Afterward, he’d not seen Rahul for years.
Then, when Rahul came back, they were all distant and weird around each other.
They’d had a drunken fumble together, of course. For one of them it was
just an awkward night that had compromised a friendship. For the other…

“He also told you that he loves you,” Mel reminded him around her
cigarette butt.

Julian folded his arms and hunched his shoulders in that way he did when he
was stopping himself from covering his ears like he would’ve as a little
kid. “Whatever. He’s confused. I dunno. He can’t love me.
That’s just mental. He’s my best mate — he was my best mate. He
just thinks he’s in love with me ‘cause he loves me, you know,
like friends or whatever. And anyway, that’s the other reason Michael
dumped me, you know? He could see Rahul’s all obsessed with me and he
didn’t want to get himself in the middle of whatever it is we’ve
got going on. He didn’t want to end up like Aisling did. Having rows all
the time ‘cause Rahul’s put himself between us.”

Hearing the name of Julian’s ex-girlfriend gave Mel pause. “Were
you shagging him when you were still with Aisling?”

Julian dropped his cigarette. He retrieved it before it could burn a hole in
the carpet next to the constellation of cigarette burns already there.
“No. ‘Course not,” he said defensively in the way he did
when he was lying. “I’d never cheat on her, would I?”

“I don’t know,” Mel said. “Would you?”

“I mean — all right, so I’d started seeing him a bit when we were
still together,” Julian immediately capitulated. Mel beamed. So she
could still wheedle the truth out of her brother after all. “But we
didn’t sleep together or anything. It wasn’t cheating. Not
really.” He was imploring as if Mel were the barrister presiding over
his case. She was only a curious third party with no stake in the game. So she
merely shrugged.

He ran an unhappy hand through his hair, which by now was standing up at all
sorts of odd angles. “What am I gonna do?”

“What you’ve gotta do is get your shit together. Both of you. I
got a business to run, you know? What am I supposed to do? Sack one of you and
hire somebody neither of you ballbags have fucked? And we got a band, or have
you forgotten that as well?”

“I thought you hated the band.”

“I do, but I’ve started counting on that extra gig dosh.” It
felt good to pay for her grass with money that didn’t come directly from
her dead nan’s business. “And you love the damned thing. Are you
gonna find yourself a replacement keyboardist slash guitarist who shares your
same crazy vision of a dystopian soundscape? Think it’s easy to find one
of them? You gonna put an ad out in The Sun?”

“Why don’t you ask Rahul?” Julian cried. “He’s
the one who’s gone and cocked everything up! It’s his fault for
having feelings — or thinking he’s got feelings. If he weren’t
obsessed with me, he’d have never sabotaged my relationship. If he were
following somebody else around like a bleeding puppy, then maybe me and
Michael would still be together.”

“That’s it,” Mel said, snapping her fingers in the air.

“What is?” Julian asked dubiously.

“We need to set Rahul up with somebody. Get him to fall in love with
somebody else. That way Michael won’t have anything to worry about and
the two of you can make up. Then you and Rahul can get back to being mates,
and Bob’s your uncle — everything back to normal.”

Julian’s dubiosity had not dissipated. “You reckon? I
dunno.” He made a face somewhere between a sneer and a wince that made
it look like he was about to sneeze. “He’s been building his
feelings up for me for years, said so himself. I don’t think we can come
in with some, erm…”

“Bloke. He is gay, you know.”

“Right — some bloke — and think he’ll be all gone on him in two
shakes and forget all about me. He thinks he loves me, you know? That’s
massive, that is. When someone’s got gangrene, you don’t come in
with a plaster and think that’s gonna make it all better.”

“Trust me. I know what I’m doing. You leave it all up to me.
I’ll sort it. I always do.” And even though she was wearing her
best smug expression, he still had the gall to look less than convinced.

As a queer, nonbinary, person of color, Nicky Silber has made it their mission
to bring diversity into all of their creative outlets. Born in New York,
raised in Mexico, they studied fine art in San Francisco and have worked in
the video game industry since 2012. They currently live in the wilds of North
Carolina with their young son and too many pets. Their only two goals in life
are to continue to tell queer love stories and, to a lesser extent, finally
knit their own sweater.

Contact Links

Nicky’s Website

Nicky on Instagram

Nicky on Threads

Nicky on TikTok

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress