What If We Weren’t Who We Thought We Were?

The intense spy drama The Mechanicals of Recoleta uncovers the dark secrets of torture and murder that took place during Argentina’s dirty war of 1976 to 1983. Now, years later, those secrets are about to be unburied.

In modern-day California, Zoe works in Silicon Valley and is newly married. Her honeymoon is interrupted by a phone call from Buenos Aires, where her father has just died. Zoe rushes to South America to attend the funeral at Recoleta cemetery, where only the wealthiest of Argentina’s upper crust are buried. Zoe uncovers hints about her father’s and uncle’s roles during the military junta dictatorship, and then learns her new husband might not be who she thinks he is.

Zoe is forced to confront the past, which makes her question everything about her life, including her true heritage, her religion and her husband’s real identity.The Mechanicals of Recoleta will rock your foundations.

THE MECHANICALS OF RECOLETA: A SPY NOVEL   (ISBN: 978-1-60976-379-4) by Max Milano is currently available on Barnes & Noble.com and Amazon.com for $14.95 and on TheMechanicalsofRecoleta.com

About the Author: Max Milano has delivered a novel that melds Shakespearian drama with Tarantino-esque violence. The Mechanicals[Grave Diggers] of Recoleta is a Hamlet meets Kill Bill tour de force. Milano has lived throughout the world, and now resides in Silicon Valley, California, where he is writing his next two books.

The Mechanicals of Recoleta Video Trailer:  http://bit.ly/ZoeandtheMechanicals

Max Milano

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Père-Lachaise

“We are all in the gutter
but some of us are looking at the stars”
She read aloud by candlelight,
in Pere Lachaise we were that night.
It’s Wilde, she said, yeah it’s Wilde.

I know I’m been manipulated
But I want to be manipulated
By her tears
Because I love her so
And I just don’t know
What to do
She said she believes in love
At first sight
And I know that she’s right
It was love at first sight
alright
When I saw her gray-smoke eyes
And her summer wheat locks
Who cares how much she smokes
I get high with my own thoughts
Flying over her gold wheat fields
And her summer kissed skin
Her lines that are quite long
In her limbs I belong
But she blew me a kiss
N’ she won’t find me amiss
When she’s kissing a girl
Whose love I know she stole

So said the eccentric

Everyone is a critic

Everything’s shit, innit?