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Set among the plantations in deepest Louisiana, CANE RIVER follows the lives of five generations of women from the time of slavery in the early 1800s into the early years of the 20th century. From down-trodden, philosophical Suzette, who was born and died a slave, to educated, pale-skinned Emily, whose high ambitions born in freedom become her downfall, we are introduced to a remarkable cast of characters whose struggles reflect the tragedy of slavery and, ultimately, the triumph of the spirit. This deeply personal saga - based entirely on the author's research into her own family history - ranks with the best African-American novels and introduces a major new writer.
Beneath the surface of Cane River, Texas, is a mystery that tangles the town like the vines that slither into yards and swallow up houses. Early in the town's history, a little girl disappeared; now she makes appearances with the vines, and Eugene Wheeler may be the only one who has the answer to the mystery. His son Bill Wheeler returns to Cane River following the death of his wife and unborn child. He is lonely, looking to reconnect with his crazy father and forget the pain of his loss. But strange occurrences surround him. Phantom breezes in his apartment, strange voices from empty rooms, and a little girl who wants more from him than he knows all follow him and only his father seems to know why. Bill meets Sandy Duprie, but before their relationship can blossom, the strange little girl with the too-wide smile takes something precious from them both, leading him on a journey of terror into the heart of the Texas swamp that is Cane River.
I owe my father, Harvis Sr., and my mother, Rita, a debt of gratitude for the values they instilled in me at an early age that carried me through life. My goal is that readers of my stories will have fond memories of their childhood and events throughout their lives. If I am able to put a smile on the readers face as they recall their own past lives, I will have succeeded in this project. I also want to thank my sweet wife, Ginny, for encouraging and supporting me throughout this journey.
Scarred by a tragic childhood accident, beautiful Creole zoologist Dr. Marie LaCour throws her energies into running her Crocodile Habitat in the bucolic community of Cane River, Louisiana. But the mutilated bodies piling up throw a wrench into her plans, as frightened residents naturally finger her large toothy reptiles as the culprit. With the help of heartthrob journalist Grant Metoyer, Marie bypasses the bungled investigation of Lt. Frank Sarpy and does a little snooping of her own. She soon finds that the ghosts of the past can stir restlessly, thrust matted hands through the loam, and come back to haunt... Soon Marie and Grant find themselves targeted by both Sheriff's deputies and a mysterious throwback, a drawing noose that they avoid only by becoming as close as lovers. At the explosive climax, Marie's life is again deeply altered, and she discovers that the harrowing experiences have strengthened her will to live and love again.
Jacques Lawrence at your service, the voice was deep, resonant and a little lazy; Paulette looked up into warm, brown eyes, and six foot four inches of welled honed muscles.Here, let me. Simone turned her head toward the sound and there he was. Where did the oxygen go? Her eyes locked on the tall, lean, hard body in front of her. She was hot; the air conditioning must not be working. She immediately dropped her eyes down to his shoes, neat, just what I like. At your service, ladies. Jacques was studying Simone while everybody was busy being busy. His eyes covered everything, long legs, just like he liked them, a thin, athletic bodyhere is my chance, thought Jacques. He reached for her arm and she gave him her hand. I dont even like shaking hands and here I am putting my hand in a strangers hand. She quickly removed her hand and started toward the elevator, the handsome stranger dragging the loaded cart, getting on last. The door opened on the sixth floor and Jacques got off pulling the cart with him. Simone got off last. She started down the hall. She could feel his eyes on her as they roamed unchecked over her body. She knew her hips had an extra swing to them and she couldnt help it. As she floated down the hall, Jacques thought, being in this mud hole wouldnt be so bad if she were connected to the registered letter that got him here in the first place.. Now where did that thought come from? Right now, an inheritance is the last thing on my mind.

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