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“I’m ashamed of my need to be held – guess it’s been a while. Nothing sexual, just warmth, affection and tenderness, which I crave right now. It’s coming from the father of my baby; how wrong can that be?
Minutes go by and I find myself lying in his arms, my back to his accommodating chest. I bask in his masculine scent – the faint whiff of tobacco mingled with a musky but familiar aftershave – comforting.
As our breathing synchronizes, his hand slowly slides to my belly. ‘This is a miracle, a gift to us,’ he whispers. ‘Forget the circumstances, it’s still a miracle. I need you to love my baby. It means everything to me.’
I nod several times and place my hand over his. He shuffles his strong hand over mine so that our fingers entwine. Snug in a tender but illicit embrace, we drift off to sleep.
When I wake up in the middle of the night and find myself in Reed’s arm, reality bites. I’m married to a US Police Commissioner; he’s part of an Islamic militant group – what the fuck am I doing?
Slowly, to avoid waking him, I ease out of his arms. Sitting a distance away from him, I watch the rise and fall of his chest as he sleeps.
Reed stirs, opens his eyes and looks at me. He doesn’t say anything; he just holds my gaze. Then, he opens his arms to me.
I stare at his opened arms and will myself to shake my head from side-to-side, to say something like, “No thanks, we shouldn’t be doing this. You just caught me at a weak moment. I’m okay. Really, I am.” Smile to show I’m okay.
I do nothing of that sort – I just melt into his arms.
The way he holds me, the way he buries his face in my hair, the contented sigh he gives as he hugs me close, tells me he needs this as much as I do. We fall asleep almost immediately.”
End of Excerpt

Here’s what readers have to say about Captured:

“I laughed, I cried, I felt everything her characters felt. This one brought me to tears so many times!”

“Two hours sleep before work isn’t really substantial but it was worth it. Was one of those books you can’t put down!”

“I may read it again and I don’t usually do that.”

“This book is fast paced and will keep you on your toes, sometimes without time to take a breath.”

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FREE! FREE! FREE! FREE! FREE! FREE! Royal Deception!


“Crying and reading don’t mix, your eyes get watery and blurry and you don’t see what you’re reading. I laughed & I cried also rejoiced. This book and book two are BEAUTIFUL.” Amazon reviewer 

When Henna Day, who is living in poverty, is hand-picked by Queen Karisma of Asokastan for Crown Prince Vijay, her family thinks they’ve hit the jackpot. Finally, they will have food on the table.
Little do they know that Prince Vijay, is not only gay, but he is also slightly retarded.
The deception is something young Henna can live with, until Queen Karisma demands an heir, threatening to have the marriage annulled if Henna fails to produce one.

Unable to go back home and having no choice, Henna, with the aid of her lady-in-waiting, sets her sights on handsome New Yorker, Rusty Carrington, fencing instructor to Prince Vijay.

Since Rusty has never met Princess Henna and is on contract in Asokastan for just six months, things go smoothly between Henna and Rusty and before long, she is pregnant with Rusty’s child.
Immediately, and without saying goodbye, she disappears from Rusty’s life.

Banner 1 orange she bit her bottom lip  sari

Rusty is confused when he cannot locate Henna, but as scheduled, he moves back to New York.

Back home, he cannot get Henna out of his mind and it isn’t long before he realizes he has been duped. Furious, he returns to Asokastan with plans to find Henna and bring her to justice for whatever scam she’s running. If he cannot find her, he plans to enlist Queen Karisma’s help. Not only is she his personal friend, but she has made it clear she fancies him. Royal Deception is a tale of love, lust and revenge.

“It’s not my usual genre, so I was hesitant about this book. I’m so glad I took a chance. If you liked The Other Boylen Girl, you will enjoy this a whole lot more. I know I did.  Some strong language and graphic sex scenes though, so beware. ” Smashwords reviewer



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Obsessed With Me FREE! FREE! FREE! FREE!


FREE 11-15 FEB!

(My Valentine’s gift to my readers. Don’t never say I dont

never give you nuttin’!)

“I was wrapped up in this intriguing story from the first page. I love it when an author tells it like it truly is when it’s required. Eve Rabi is one of the best at it so you’d better have a thick skin and buckle up because it’s going to be a bumpy ride.” Amazon reviewer


“I am not going to tell was happens in the story, but I can tell u that when u read this, there will be times u will want to cry,laugh,cuss (say a few bad words), slam this book down , but I guarantee u will read book one in a day or less!” amazon reviewer


FREE 11-15 FEB!

So whachu waitin’ for? Go on one click it! Okay fine,on the count of three we’ll one click together. One…two…hang on, I have to pull up my bra strap.  Hee hee!

Ready? One , two… three!

Wow, that was awesome! Wanna do it ‘gain?

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My Brother My Rival. FREE! FREE! FREE! FREE!

Banner My Brother My Rival Dishes lay in theFREE 28, 29, 30 January 2014

cover my brother's girls book one 22 aug 13

“If you are not familiar with Eve Rabi’s books, well let me tell you right now if you are a mom with kid’s to feed and a husband to take care of then DO NOT try to read a Eve Rabi book.

They are physically brutal. Your head will hurt your vision will go blurry and the ‘ol body goes numb. WHY? Because once you start one of her books you CANNOT put it down.

Love this book and loved the Gringa series. I literally was laughing out loud reading this book. It’s an emotional roller coaster ride. Romance and action.”


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LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT (Australia Day Blog Hop)




I’d never been to Australia before, but I knew I wanted to live there because I heard that nobody carried guns there.

I’m from sunny South Africa, one of the most beautiful countries in the world. But when the violence escalated and a family member was killed, I made a decision to leave South Africa and say goodbye to my real estate business, all our material goods and to our fair-weather friends.

My husband was not happy, but he went along. Initially.

After our visas were granted, he got cold feet and changed his mind about leaving South Africa. 

That put such a strain on the marriage that it fell apart.

But, I was serious about relocating to Aus with my five year old and nothing was going to stop me.

Yes, it would be hard being a single parent in a country I knew nothing about  (That’s not true, I watched Neighbours! Ha ha!), but I was unafraid, fearless and …well, that’s not altogether true either; I was shit scared, terrified at times and wondered if I was mad to migrate without my husband. I even wondered if mental illness ran in my family.

Then, a month after I split with my husband, I found out I was pregnant with my second child!

That was it; my plans to migrate came to an abrupt end. I resigned my disappointed self to stay in South Africa, obtain more guns, one for each child, get a bodyguard to shadow me, (Kevin Costner would do) and convert the fence on my property into an electric one.

Eh, no. Not quite. I was going ahead with my plans to migrate to Australia with my five-year-old and my unborn baby.  (Years later, I found out that mental illness did run in my family.)

My husband, after he got over his shock over the unplanned pregnancy, was convinced that I wouldn’t leave the country now that I was with child. He was happy and smug.

But clearly he too didn’t know that mental illness ran in my family.  

I came to Australia when I was seven months pregnant.

Even though it had been a horrendous flight, the moment I touched down in Sydney, in spite of my jet-lag and the fact that I lived in a hotel for a week, I fell in love with it. Love at first sight!
With everything, the unpretentious people, the holiday atmosphere, the perfect climate, the absence of guards and guns.

I was in awe when I moved to a place called St Ives, a lovely green suburb, ideal for bringing up children. (It reminded me of Cape Town, so I settled there. You Will Pay was based in this suburb.)

There were no fences, no guard dogs, no This Property is being Protected by Rottweiler and Angry Pitbull Security Company signs, and people didn’t even draw their blinds at night – you could see right into their lovely homes!

My love for Australia soared and I wrote to my family (I am one of seven children) and reported that I had found Paradise, I was thrilled to be here and could they please send me more South African pickles, some Royal Crème biscuits and Beacon Easter eggs, please.  (Yes, I said ‘please’ twice.)

They were relieved that I was okay, but they were baffled that I had no maid, no driver, no secretary, no nanny for my kids and that I would be cleaning my own toilets.

That bothered them the most – me having to do domestic chores.

That bothered me the most –me having to do domestic chores.

Even though I loved Australia, many at times, I raised my unmascaraed eyes, my Ansell gloved hands holding my toilet brush and cleaning sponge to the heavens and said, “What the fuck?”

But my husband kept in touch (was also around for the birth of my baby) waiting for the day I would break and send that all important email:
“I’m coming home, tell the world I’m coming home. I know my kingdom awaits…”    Okay, fine, if you want to be technical, those are PDiddy’s words (but I do believe he found my diary ), but my words would be something like those.
You know, something like, I have made a mistake in leaving South Africa and I want a second chance. I want to come back with my suitcase between my legs and I promise I will never ever speak of Australia ever again.

Guess what? The weirdest thing happened – my husband wanted to come to Australia! To settle here.  Turns out, during his visits, he loved it here even though the speed limit in most places was just 50 KMP and he would have to say adios to his German vehicles in South Africa.

Guess what? The weirdest thing happened – by then, I had lost all the baby fat, toned my bod, grew my hair, had a Brazilian or two and was dating again!

Yes, in the process of relocating and giving birth to a precious baby, I had got my mojo, that years of marriage (to the same man) had eroded bit by bit.
I no longer wanted my husband! He was so yesterday.
I wanted to skank around a little, have some fun, live a little.

(As Jack Nicolson said in The Witches of Eastwick:  “When a woman unloads a husband, or a husband unloads a woman, however it happens – death, desertion, divorce – the three D’s – when that happens, a woman blooms. She blossoms. Like flowers. Like fruit. She is ripe.”)

However, and this is a big however; I did have two kids under the age of six, one a baby, and at times it was hard.  Plus my husband had been brought up by my bitch of a mother in law who had a house so clean and spotless, it was more like a museum than a house.  She had four sons, all around 6’4” but she kicked their arses and had them cleaning and polishing on demand.   

So, he was really good at doing dishes, vacuuming and other domestic chores, all of which I hated more than my mother in law. (Actually, I didn’t hate her. I just preferred to live in another country.)

Maybe, I could take him back, have all the benefits of a husband, and to keep my mojo going, and so as not to waste all that lovely lingerie I had purchased, I could have an affair on the side?
That was a brilliant idea, I thought. While he’d be busy holding the baby and the fort, I would sneak out for matinee sex in sleazy motels, where you pay by the hour. I’d never been to a sleazy motel before, so I was excited at the thought of using one. I wondered what the room service was like.   

Anyway, I took my husband back and unfortunately, the only affair I wanted to have was with him. As I said, “unfortunately.”

Turns out the split did us good, and it was as if we were two different people in Australia. Minus the pressures of the business we ran in South Africa, we were living an idyllic life.
Plus, in all fairness, he really appreciated the new panties and stuff, so we lived happily ever after.
For three months.
Then the bitching started. He expected me to do my share of the housework!
I was flabbergasted at his gall and seriously considered packing his arse off back to South Africa. After all, I still had the men I had been dating on speed dial lurking around, and there was still the sleazy motel I had not had the pleasure of visiting.

But marriage is a comprise I thought, so I compromised and got a cleaner who came in three times a week.
Problem solved, paradise regained and I was loving my sun-burnt country.
A few things have happened since:
The marriage ended years later.
Even though my speed dial doesn’t work, I am dating again.
I have bought more panties. Skanky ones.
I’m writing books and loving it. (21 books published, with two more on the horizon.)
I’m still loving Australia, I’m really loving my freedom and I’ve found my mojo again.
(I hope my ex-husband doesn’t read this, he’s not a bad guy. I hope my mother in law doesn’t read this, she’s not a …well, I hope she doesn’t read this. In fact, I hope nobody reads this.)

Anyway, happy Australia Day to all!

Australia Day Coastal Blog Hop

You must enter via Rafflecopter below. See the list of all the amazing Australian authors who are participating in this blog hop where you can win $1 million. Okay, fine, not $1 million. But …

$100 and 26 e-books (some print) from our generous authors

drawn Australia Day

So go on, visit all these bloody blogs, leave a bloody comment and enter the bloody draw.

What the bloody hell are you waiting for?

(That’s how I speak now. ‘Bloody’ everything. Cool, right?  :))


a Rafflecopter giveaway

January 1 Monique McDonnell
January 2 Sara Hantz
January 3 Annie Seaton
January 4 Imogene Nix
January 5 Caitlyn Nicholas 
January 6 Tima Maria Lacoba
January 7 Nicole Flockton
January 8 Wendy L. Curtis
January 9 Jacqui Carling Rodgers
January 10 Susan Horsnell
January 11 Susanne Bellamy
January 12 J’aimee Brooker
January 13 Victoria Purman
January 14 Ann B Harrison
January 15 Cate Ellink


Demelza Carlton

January 16 Jenny Schwartz
January 17 Donna Gallagher
January 18 Lily Malone
January 19 Tea Cooper
January 20 Fiona McArthur
January 21 Max Henry
January 22 Jennie Jones
January 23 Alison Stuart
January 24 Eve Rabi
January 25 Kendal Talbot
January 26 Annie Seaton-Prize draw








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In Just a Few Hours …

In Just a Few Hours ...

…book 2 of You Will Pay for Leaving me, will be available.

Have you posted your review for You Will Pay for Leaving Me?

If you have, for a limited time, book 2 as well will be free to you!

Email with your review link to grab your free copy of book 2.


Remington Correctional Centre. Maximum security prison. A replica of Silverwater Correctional Services, home to me almost four years ago.
Harsh, unforgettable, behind-bars memories that never can be forgotten by a prisoner.
In my quest to be whole again, I have undergone two years of therapy and have learned how to successfully manage these memories.
Emphasis on manage, because there is no SPF50 type lotion you can use to block out these memories. They creep into your thoughts, invade your dreams, your daydreams, your life, and often incapacitate you.
I had to figure a way to manage my fears – I have three children who depend on me and if I am not whole, how can I possibly help them be whole?
But as I walk into Remington and make my way down the dreary, harshly-lit corridor toward Tom, all my recent years of utter freedom, of being unchained to him, of never having to hate weekends again, fades away.
My gut burns, my mouth feels like I swallowed a handful of cotton wool, and I gulp at the air, familiar and dense with the odor of ammonia and hopelessness.
In my mind, I’m back to being Mrs. Botha, wife of successful and charismatic self-made millionaire, Tom Botha, man extraordinaire envied by both men and women alike because of his beautifully groomed and supportive wife, his always-seen-but-seldom-heard-toddlers shod in shoes at all times, his immaculate and spotless home that he runs military style, his efficacious business he built single-handedly.
Perfection personified.
(Ladies, if you ever meet a man who is like Tom, perfect in every single way, got his shit totally together, ding! ding! ding! ding! ding! Get the fuck out of there. Slip off your stilettos, hitch up your narrow skirt and run! In the opposite direction. Sprint, if you have to.)
Tom’s eyes flash in front of me, causing my steps to falter. .
Deep breaths. You’re not going back to prison, you’re just visiting it. In…out…in…out…
Tom can’t harm you anymore. He’s dying of colon cancer, remember?
The picture of Tom changing a colostomy bag, and having to live in a body that is less than perfect, brings on a hysteria-induced chuckle.
Knowing Tom, he’s probably dying quicker from the shame of his illness than from the disease itself.
In spite of my yoga breathing, my stern self-talk, and the mental picture of Tom minus his quinoa and wheatgrass shots, minus a healthy head of carefully groomed hair, my shoulders hitch closer to my ears with every step I take.
The prison corridor snakes on and on and stirrings of claustrophobia hover.
A hitch – prison security has me as Arena Botha, not Arena Shaw.
Tom’s doing, for sure. It’s his way of disregarding Bear, my new surname, the new life I have assumed.
Even Warren has assumed Bear’s surname.
After producing a driver’s license to support who I say I am, and answer a hundred identifying questions, I am ushered into the Visitors’ Room, not into the infirmary or the prison hospital where Tom should be, given the nature of his illness.
Maybe he’ll be wheeled in to see me?
I take a seat in front of a thick, but clear glass partition and wait. I eye the telephone receiver in front of me but do not pick it up. Instead, I inhale deeply and brace myself, force myself to sit upright and look confident. Fake confidence, more like it.
Not knowing what to expect, I play with my knuckles and tap my feet.
Moments later, Tom appears.
He walks toward me, no wheelchair, no assistance from anyone.
Full head of hair, with just the slightest grey around the temples.
When he sees me, he stops walking and smiles.
Do I smile back?
He hangs his head, then throws it back, the broad smile on his face reaching his eyes.
I recognize that smile. It’s the one reserved for wives of his close friends, who he constantly sought to charm and enamour. Have to give him credit; he was successful at it.
They called that smile “charismatic,” I called it “manic.”
Okay, he may have been charismatic, but he had to be to hoodwink everyone around him just about all the time.
But then again, aren’t most serial killers, paedophiles, and psychopaths charismatic?
They need oodles of charm to lure their victims, dazzle them with their magnetic smile and captivating personality, then when their guard is down…
As Tom walks toward me, he raises his hands to the sky. Glory be!
My face is inscrutable, or at least I hope it is.
As he takes his seat across from me, he mutters to himself and shakes his head in what looks like disbelief.
After he picks up the phone, I pick up mine.
Then I hear it – evil’s voice after three long years.
End of Excerpt

Here’s the links to You Will Pay For Leaving Me, a free book:


December 16, 2013 · 5:54 am