The mass murder of almost thirty young boys in Houston may well have been the most heinous crime of the century. How could such a series of murders go undetected for almost three years before being exposed? The Man with the Candy is a brilliant investigative journalist’s story of the crime and the answer to that question. The night David Hilligiest didn't come home was both like and unlike other nights when other Houston boys disappeared between the years 1971 and 1973. At three in the morning the police were called, but they just said that boys were running away from the best of homes nowadays and that they'd list David as a runaway. No, there would be no official search for the youngster. Aghast, the Hilligiests, in the months that followed, hired their own detective, put up posters, even sought the aid of clairvoyants. But David never did come home again because, along with at least twenty-six other Houston boys, he had been murdered and buried by the homosexual owner of a candy factory, the mass murderer of the century, Dean Corll, according to his two teenage confessed accomplices, Elmer Wayne Henley, Jr., and David Brooks. Many of the young boys had not even been reported as missing, and the fact that they were dead would probably never have come to light had not one of the murderers confessed. For in Houston, where in a typical year the total number of murders is twice that of London despite the fact that London is six times as large and far more densely populated, missing persons and violence are likely to be considered commonplace. In the months before the trial of Henley and Brooks, Jack Olsen interviewed and probed for answers about the criminals, the victims and the city itself, which remained for the most part silent, angry and defensive. The result is a classic of true crime reportage.

When Quinn returns to town and rents the flat beneath Jaime's there is bound to be trouble. Jaime wants to resist his charms, but knows that to be his friend is dangerous.

Those who knew Houston's 'Candy Man' Dean Corll all described him the same way - well-mannered, considerate, quiet, neatly groomed, and cheerful. He could usually be found in one of the more affluent communities within Houston, entertaining young boys at a small candy factory owned by his mother - the boys would pop in to watch as the pieces of candy came off the assembly line, and they all got along well with Dean.But some boys saw a completely different side of the Candy Man.From December 13, 1970 to July 25, 1973, 28 boys between the ages of 13 and 20 vanished from a neighbourhood just west of downtown Houston. The young men had all been tortured, then killed, by Dean Corll - who was, at that time, America's most prolific serial killer.

Now Filmed as 1947, a motion picture by Deepa Mehta Few novels have caught the turmoil of the Indian subcontinent during Partition with such immediacy, such wit and tragic power.

Jack Valentini isn't my type. Sexy, brooding cowboys are fine in the movies, but in real life, I prefer a suit and tie. Proper manners. A close shave. Jack might be gorgeous, but he's also scruffy, rugged, and rude. He wants nothing to do with a "rich city girl" like me, and he isn't afraid to say so. But I've got a PR job to do for his family's farm, so he's stuck with me and I'm stuck with him. His glares. His moods. His tight jeans. His muscles. His huge, hard muscles. Pretty soon there's a whole different kind of tension between us, the kind that has me misbehaving in barns, trees, and pickup trucks. I've never done anything so out of character-but it feels too good to stop. And the more I learn about the grieving ex-Army sergeant, the better I understand him. Losing his wife left him broken and bitter and blaming himself. He doesn't think he deserves a second chance at happiness. But he's wrong. I don't need to be his first love. If only he'd let me be his last.