Andrea Lechner-Becker lives in Phoenix, Arizona. Her debut novel, Sixty Days Left, was published on 15 May 2018.
What would you do with just sixty days left?
That’s the question Willow must ask when, after a terminal diagnosis, she moves from Wyoming’s wide-open spaces to Portland for Death with Dignity. In this diary-format novel, Willow explores her present and her past, while realizing that every decision forms her future.
It’s been a long haul with all sorts of interruptions and difficulties, but, finally, the moment the whole world (well, me, anyway) has been waiting for is here. Readers will be able to choose between paperback and ebook editions (Kindle and everything else) via all major online retailers: Amazon, Lulu, iBooks, Kobo, Barnes and Noble, Nook – the list is endless. The paperback will be distributed worldwide and will take around eight weeks to appear in stock. In the meantime, eBooks are go! You can preorder them now and, as you’ll see below, it pays to do so early.
Nadine stole a white Plymouth Roadrunner early Friday evening. She took it from an airport parking lot, which bought her the weekend before it was missed – a couple of weeks if she was lucky. Earle had shown her how and when to take an automobile. ‘Stay calm and act natural. Once they’re on the plane, there’s nothing they can do. You’re the new owner. Remember that.’
‘I seen one!’ May Alice took a hold of my arm, her eyes filled up with nightmare. ‘It’s got claws and fur and lives at the bottom of the water. It hides in the grass and drags you down just when you thinks it’s safe. Ain’t nothin’ you can do about it ’cos you’s already died. Then it eats you and it hurts somethin’ awful.’
All at once, Lucy remembered Trevor and began to weep. He would never grow old as she had grown old. His youthful face remained unchanged and unwearied, preserved forever in her faithful memory. She did not love him – did not know if she had ever loved him – yet there he was. Was he still alive? She tried to think of Gerald, dead Gerald, dull, oblivious, bullying Gerald, but his face had turned bland and bloated with the years, like a blurred photograph of an undistinguished stranger.
Someone had pitched me into the freezing waters of a dark and pitiless lake. Monstrous predatory creatures circled in the primordial gloom. High above, a pinpoint of grey light flickered on the edge of extinction. I had to swim for that light – swim for it or else sink into unfathomable loss …
Giles Manningtree had the annoying habit of latching on to me simply because we were the same nationality. He believed fellow-countrymen should stick together and defend their common culture before it was trodden underfoot by ignorant Gallic hordes. I wondered what had induced him to set up shop in Paris in the first place. There was forty years’ difference in our ages, but he looked ten years older than that. He had actually lived through the 1960s; unfortunately, he’d been too stoned to remember much about them.