COLORBLIND – A #romantic #suspense #book by #EveRabi

Small Cover Color Blind 13 April 19

Apartheid: noun, historical, a policy or system of segregation
or discrimination on grounds of race.

A prison in Cape Town
South Africa
1982
Twelve years before Nelson Mandela became president of South Africa, the country was governed by various pro-apartheid acts, including the Immorality Act, where sex between white and other ethnic groups was a criminal offence. Both parties contravening the Immorality Act would be imprisoned for up to ten years.

Excerpt 1 from ColorBlind:
I was scared, but not for the obvious reasons. It wasn’t because I had violated South Africa’s Immorality Act, which had landed me in jail.
It wasn’t the fact that, despite being in love for years, and secretly living together for six months prior to my arrest, my boyfriend, my black boyfriend, and I faced imprisonment – five years for me, ten for him (he would be dealt a harsher sentence because of the color of his skin). No, that was not it.
It wasn’t the fact that our that the police, a task force in full SWAT gear, created solely to handle anyone breaking the law, and daring to be color blind, had kicked down the door of our apartment at 3 a.m., dragged us out of bed in our nightwear, and threw us into waiting police vans. No, that was not it.
The above would scare anyone, right? Yet, none of the above terrified me as much as facing my father, Schoeman Vorster. That’s Pastor Schoeman Vorster. He was a charismatic preacher, respected and revered throughout South Africa by pro-apartheid whites, lauded by many of them. He ruled and recruited with fearmongering– The blacks are the enemy of the white people in South Africa. They are savages, they are dangerous, they should be greatly feared. We whites must stick together so that we can be stronger and fight them off when they attack, which will be any day now.
Yes, Pastor Schoeman Vorster publicly preached hate for people of color, demanded segregation among races, and believed wholeheartedly in discrimination based on a person’s color. It was legal, the law said he could do that, so he took advantage of that and held mass rallies where he recruited white followers throughout the country. In the U.S. you had the Klu Klux Klan, in South Africa we had Die Goed Afrikaaner Kerk (The Good Afrikaaner Church). The Klu Klux Klan had the Grand Wizard, in South Africa, we had Pastor Schoeman Vorster.
Pa was about to see me for the first time since my arrest. My secret love that I had kept hidden for so long, was now out in the open and I was in deep trouble. I had committed the worst possible crime a white woman could commit in South Africa – I had slept with a black man. Pastor Schoeman’s daughter had slept with a black man.
My greatest fear was answering to my father, now that I had been caught out. At the thought of facing him, my stomach churned, my throat felt like I had swallowed polystyrene, my palms grew clammy, and for the first time in my life, I actually heard my heartbeat. That’s how terrified I was of my father, the pastor.
Whenever I’m nervous or anxious, I bite my nails. That day, in the jail interview room, I steadily chewed on whatever little of my nails were left. When I remember just how disgustingly dirty they were – I had spent the last two nights in a filthy jail cell – I quickly jerked my fingers out of my mouth and tucked them under my thighs. And waited.
As the minutes dragged by, my fear was such, that my nails found their way back into my mouth and I chewed on them, regardless of how disgusting they smelled.   
Then, he arrived. I felt my father’s presence before he even entered the interview room. I jerked to attention – back ramrod-straight, eyes alert and darting around, white knuckles gripping the plastic chair.
The door to the prison interview room was flung open, and my father strode in, eyes hooded, nostrils twitching, lips a white line. Dressed in a suit, he looked commanding and reverential as usual, taller than he usually did, larger too.
Sauntering behind him were my half-brothers, Jacob and Isaiah, young pastors in training, both suited and somber.
Behind them were two senior prison wardens, Jonas and Fourie. Behind them all, lugging an attaché case, was Abramowitz Cohen, one of my father’s trusted attorneys and fixer, who I’ve known since birth. Oom (uncle) Cohen, as we called him.
They greeted me with looks of contempt and revulsion, and under their collective disdain, I lost the ramrod in my back, and my shoulders rounded. With my head slightly bowed, I braced myself for the onslaught that was sure to follow.    
Warden Jonas hastened to pull out a plastic chair for my father. “Here you are, Pastor Schoeman,” he said in Afrikaans, dusting the chair with his hands, then bowing obsequiously to my father.  
My father shifted his glare to the chair. He was a stickler for cleanliness, because it was next to godliness, he always said, so I knew he would rather stand, than sit on a germ-infested prison chair. However, for whatever reason, he caved and, without thanking the warden, took a seat on the edge of the chair. With both hands on his lap, probably to avoid touching the grubby table, he glared at me, his eyes granite and icy. I quickly averted mine.  
My brothers remained standing, hands loosely folder in front, feet astride, like CIA agents behind the president. The other men stood too, despite the chairs in the room. I suspected it was to intimidate me. It worked, even if it wasn’t the plan. Six white, strapping men, all angry and humiliated by my actions, towering over me – how could an eighteen-year-old not be intimidated?
For a while, it was so silent in the room, I heard the hissing and groaning of the hundred-year-old prison pipes.
My father’s sharp voice eventually pierced the silence and temporarily muted the pipes. “That kaffir raped you.”
With great difficulty, I raised my eyes to look at my father. Don’t call him kaffir! That was my first thought.
Pa only spoke Afrikaans, which was the language of the white man in South Africa. We were encouraged to speak Afrikaans at all times, not English. “You hear? That black bastard, he raped you.”
I knew better than to talk back to my father, so I remained quiet. It wasn’t good enough – he crashed his fist onto the table, causing me to jump.
“Hear what I’m saying? Ja?”
Under duress, I responded in a mixture of English and Afrikaans. “Nee, nee, he didn’t rape me, Pa.  We –”
“He raped you!” he screamed, his race flaming, his eyes bulging, his lips dry and cracked from fury.  
“No, Pa, he did not,” I repeated. “I love him Shabba. I mean, Tshabalala – that’s his name.” My voice wasn’t defiant, for no one dares defy Pastor Schoeman. It was firm, but respectful.
My answer simply incensed my father even more. “You … you … you do NOT –” He was so angry, spittle flew out of his mouth as he snarled at me.
I was terrified, yes, but I needed to correct him about Shabba. Correct everyone around for that matter. “We … we are going to get married, Pa. We –”
I stopped talking when I saw him cracking his knuckles, because … when Pa cracks his knuckles, you are going to get disciplined. With his fists. In a big way. Old school. At six-foot-three and approximately two-hundred-and twenty pounds, Schoeman Vorster did not need a weapon – he was one.
Judging from the way Isaiah and Jacob flinched, it was fair to assume that they’ve experienced their fair share of knuckle-cracking. Pa spared no rod, because he said, the Bible warned us not to.
Knowing that I was in a jail with two prison wardens, and that there was little chance of pa getting physical with me, despite my terror, I summoned the courage to explain. “We have been living together on and off for about six months, and we plan to –”
My father, who was in his late fifties, moved with a swiftness I never thought possible – he hurled himself across the table he had avoided touching, and crashed into me like a rugby player, taking me to the ground with him.
“I will kill you, Sarie!” he screamed, striking me repeatedly across the face. Luckily, shock served as my bubble wrap – I only felt the first two blows before I started to black out.   
Meneer! Meneer!” Warden Jonas said in an amused voice, as he pulled my father off me. “She’s learnt her lesson, I tell you. Ja.”
“No child of mine will ever disrespect me like this,” my father said, as he straightened his tie and adjusted his coat. “A kaffir …” He paused to pat down his hair, “I will kill them. Ja, both of them, I will kill them and go to jail if I have to. It will be an honor killing. That’s what I will do. Ja.” He patted his hair again.
I lay on the floor, gurgling from the blood in my mouth.
Warden Fourie helped me up to my feet and sat me on a chair again. Bloodied and weak from the vicious beating, I flopped forward, forcing him to hold me up.
“Spare the rod and spoil the child,” my father said to no one in particular, wiping his hands along the sides of his pants.   
“I know, I know,” Jonas said, his head bobbing. “I got children too, Meneer.” He held up four fingers. “Yasis! Kids today, they never listen, ay? I fully get it, Meener.
Sitting with my head bowed, I watched blood drip from my split lip onto my lap. Since I had no tissues to wipe away the blood, I gingerly dabbed a sleeve across my mouth.
“You have embarrassed me and our family with your behavior,” my father continued as he paced. “With your … your ‘dealings’ with that … that kaffir!” He made a spitting motion, before he continued. “Speaking English to me! English? Such disrespect?”
Jacob reached to pat my father’s arm. “Pa, your blood pressure …”
My father shrugged him off. “You know what I stand for, what my principals are. What our core values as a family, a people, a nation are, and you still do this? What about the law? You have broken the law, and for that, you are heading for prison. Ay? My daughter, the criminal. How does that make me look?” He started to count on his fingers as he spoke. “I preach the word of God, I live by Bible principals, I conduct biblical tours throughout our land, spread God’s message, I … I … I recruit fighters for our church’s army to keep our race pure. Ay? I go beyond my call of duty to safeguard our race. Beyond! Seven days a week, I do all this. And this is how you show your appreciation? My own daughter, my own flesh … disrespecting me like that. For my own flesh to commit such a … a terrible crime? I feel shame. Terrible, terrible shame, man. I am humiliated that my daughter chose to disregard our values, our fight, our struggle. To betray me like this?” He shook his head in sorrow. “Laughing stock – that’s what will be.”
I said nothing, but listened out for the sounds of his knuckles cracking. “This behavior of yours, it is going to affect not only my standing in the church, my standing in the community, in this country; it will affect all our bloody lives. All our lives. Every one of us. You want that, Sarie? You want the church to fire me? Who will pay all our bills? Who will pay for privileged lifestyle you have enjoyed since birth? Where will the money come from?”
I didn’t answer.
“You’re an intelligent girl, you know all of this, and you still do this? Humiliate us like this by being caught in bed with a kaffir? The servant’s child? Eh? Someone who grew up in the stables?”
Don’t call him kaffir!
He looked at Jacob, his firstborn and right-hand man. “Where did I go wrong? Tell me? What did I do to deserve this? Tell me, Jacob. Tell me, tell me, TELL ME!”
“Pa …” Jacob gave a, you-did-nothing-wrong wave.
My father looked at Isaiah, my other brother. Isaiah shook his head at my father in sympathy, then flung a dirty look my way.  
For a few moments, my father paced, mumbled, and muttered to himself. Finally, he turned to look at me. “You will say that he kidnapped you, raped you. You will say that you had no choice but to go with him, because he threatened the lives of – no, no, no, he and his men threatened the lives of me and the rest of our family members. Your mother – he threatened to kill your mother because of our pro-apartheid stance, you hear?”
I didn’t answer – I kept my eyes lowered but kept the corners of my eyes on the lookout.
With his eyebrows elevated, my father looked at Jacob.
Jacob nodded in agreement. “And bring in the church, Pa. They should take some responsibility here.” He went on to elaborate, put his spin on things. “Because of our church’s beliefs, Sarie was targeted. Because of your support for the church, Pa. And … I can come up with a ransom note from the kaffir, his –”
“We can show proof of us paying him the ransom too,” Isaiah added. “Get footage of some kaffir picking up the money at night, release it to the papers …”
Them,” Jacob interrupted. “Proof of us paying them the ransom.”
Isaiah nodded. “Ja, ja, them!”
My father looked at Cohen for his input.
Cohen cleared his throat, pushed up his horn-rimmed glasses with his index finger and said, “That will all help greatly. Damage control – that is what we will be striving for.” He looked at me, and in a gentle voice said, “I’ve known you since you were a baby, Sarie, and I have to say, it pains me greatly to see you in this place. Physically, hurts me. This kaffir, he has taken advantage of you, of your family, your kindness, man. And look where it has got you? Ay?” He gestured to the room. “Look around you, Sarie; it is rather deplorable. Look, look, look!”
All necks in the room began to swivel around, and with mouths contorted in disgust, they took in the bare cement floor, the stained plastic chairs, the grubby wooden table that was anchored to the floor, and the flickering fluorescent lights on the flaky ceiling. The place reeked of urine and stale cigarette smoke.
“Every one of us has a place in society,” Cohen continued, shaking a finger in the air. “And clearly this kaffir has forgotten his place. By daring to do what he did to you, a white woman, he has displayed an inordinate degree of arrogance to us whites. Disregard and disrespect, Sarie, not just for you, your family and your church, but for the law! The law! Now, he has put you in this predicament? You’ve got to save yourself, Sarie. You can only be free of this terrible, terrible place if you co-operate with us, listen to Pa. You do that, and I will make sure we will send that kaffir away for a long, long time for what he did to you, I’m telling you.” He looked at my father, then my brothers. All their heads were bobbing in agreement.
My father stepped forward and pointed at me. “You will do everything Meneer Cohen asks you to do, sign everything he asks you to sign, throw that kaffir under the bus, you hear?”
I remained silent. The bleeding had stopped, but my mouth felt on fire, and my one eye was starting to close from the beating.
“I’ve got the statement already prepared, Sarie,” Cohen said, sliding a batch of papers across the table to me. “It’s basic, doesn’t include all that your father and brothers want us to say, but we can add more details. For now, just sign at the crosses, Sarie.”
I skimmed over the document, over the lies and fabrications, then looked up at Cohen.  
“Once you sign this document, we will arrange for your release within minutes,” Cohen promised, before he looked at warden Jonas with eyebrows elevated.
After glancing at his watch, Warden Jonas confirmed the promise with a nod.
Cohen slid his pen over to me.
As I pretended to consider the document, which was in Afrikaans, the men in the room brainstormed.   
“His father is on the run from the police for engaging in all sorts of criminal activities.”
“Oh, ja? What kind of crimes? Maybe we can use that?”
“Eh … mainly political, but … we can organize something.”
“Ja, okay, let’s do that. A family of criminals – that’s what they are.”
“Terrorists.”
“Terrorists, ja, ja!”
“Jacob, now look here – you must address the media at the press conference. Your father and mother should stand in the background looking grief-struck, ay?”
“Ja, Oom, I can do that.”
“Photograph Sarie’s face. Blame him for her injuries.”
“Blame them for her injuries.”
“Ja, blame them.”
“I’ll ask for twenty years, minimum.”
“Think you can get that?”
“I know a few judges. May need to grease a few palms …”
“Ja, okay, whatever you need; just fix it. Please, man!”
I turned my attention back to the document. Freedom sounded so great. I badly wanted to go home. I had barely slept, hardly eaten or taken a shower in jail. My face throbbed from the beating, my backed ached from the being battered against the cement floor, my left eye throbbed. Besides my injuries, I longed for my bed, my pillow, my hairbrush, a nailbrush, my own clothes that wasn’t abrasive to my skin, and to rid myself of the stench of jail. I longed to go back to my life and put this horrendous place, this absolute nightmare behind me.
Then, I thought of Shabba. Throw him under the bus … twenty years behind bars for my lies and falsified claims. All because he loved me. I thought of his smiling face, his warm hugs, his tender kisses, and my eyes began to burn. The thought of him rotting away behind bars for the rest of his adult life for no reason, made me want to sob.
I weighed my choices – cooperate and go home, or refuse, and spend the next five years in this godforsaken place.  
“What is it, Sarie?” Cohen asked. “Why are you crying?”
I didn’t answer.
“Sarie…” my father growled in a warning tone.
I kept my head bowed to hide my tears.  
“Sarie …” Jacob said, his voice also imbued with threat.
“Sarie, it’s Yom Kippur,” Cohen said, “the holiest day in our Jewish faith, yet, here I am trying to help you out. “My family will be waiting for me to return home for our evening prayer. We need to wrap this up. Please!” He held out the pen to me.
I looked at Oom Cohen – how does a person fabricate lies and throw an innocent young man in prison, then go home to his family and pray to God? How could God allow something like this to happen?
“Shabba did not do these things to me, Oom,” I said in a small voice. “He would never hurt me. I love him, he loves me, we’re going to get married some –”
“Sarie, PLEASE!” Cohen shrieked, stabling the pen into the table.
“— day. I’ve being his girlfriend for years, so I’m sorry, I can’t sign these lies, Oom. I’m sorry.” I pushed away the papers.
Cohen pushed back his glasses with his index finger and glared at me. I held his gaze.
My father took a step toward me, his face a mask of menace. I quickly shrunk back in fear. “Is that a fact?”
I did not answer, I just braced myself for another one of my father’s beatings – maybe if I sat facing the side, he wouldn’t get my face when he beat me.
“I need some time alone with my daughter,” my father said though clenched teeth, his eyes now slits.
Jonas quickly stepped in front of my father. “Wag, Meener, wag! Give me a chance to talk some sense into her.” His voice was reassuring, confident, as if to say, After my chat with her, she will acquiesce.
“Go, grab a cup of Rooibos tea at reception. I heard meneer likes Koeksisters, so I arranged for some for you. So, go have some, take a seat, leave it all to me.”
Jacob touched my father’s arm, then jerked his head toward the door. After flinging me you’d-better-behave look, my father got up and left the room. My brothers and Cohen followed him.  

Image by Ivanagood

Warden Fourie, a beefy, red-faced man with a belly that grazed his thighs, squeezed his bulk into a chair across me, then spent a good few moments trying to place one leg over the other.
He stared blankly at me as he did. Not glared, just stared, as if he was unsure what to make of me. I didn’t know what to make of him. So far, he’d been quiet and watchful, while Jonas did all the talking. I was used to glares, head-shaking  and tsking! from those around, so the poker face threw me.
Warden Jonas, who could easily pass for Fourie’s younger brother, pulled a chair, sat across me and smiled. “Sarie … what a lovely name!” With his hand on his heart, and in an operatic voice, he broke into an Afrikaans folk song.
“O bring my trug na die ou Transvaal,
Daar waar my Sarie woon,
Daar onder in die mielies by die groen doringboom,
Daar woon my Sarie Mariaaaaas!”

He stopped and smiled at me. “Love that song. I sing it whenever I have a few dops in me, know what I mean?” He made a quaffing gesture and followed it with a wink.
I rewarded his good-cop gesture with a feeble smile.
He turned and looked at Fourie, his eyebrows elevated. “What you think? Ay?”
“Eh … don’t give up your day job,” Fourie muttered in a sullen voice, still struggling to cross one leg over the other.
Jonas threw his head back and laughed, slapping his thigh as he did. Then, he pulled his chair closer to mine, adopted a serious look, and in a mixture of English and Afrikaans, said, “Listen, Sarie, we make mistakes, we are human, we all make mistakes. But now, we want it all to … to go away so that we can get out of this foking plek. Ay?”
We.
I nevertheless nodded, wanting to appearing like I was listening, like I was understanding and cooperating even, hoping Jonas would take pity on me and release me from jail without me having to throw Shabba under the bus first.
“Ja, because you’re a white girl, and what the hell do you know about prison life, huh? Niks! So we want this whole … this whole … mess to go away, right?
I nodded.
“So, sign the papers,” Jonas finally said, dragging the documents closer to me.
I shook my head. “Sorry, but I can’t, meneer.”
“Sign the papers, Sarie,” he repeated. “I don’t wanna have to go out there and tell them that I failed at my job. I must tell you, Sarie, God’s truth, I have never failed at my job before. I don’t like failure, ay? ‘Specially when someone else causes me to fail.” His voice was quietly threatening.   
I sat with my head bowed and slowly rubbed my aching arm.
“Sarie?”
“Sorry, meneer,” I said, “but he did not rape me. I can’t lie like that. Sorry.”
Jonas twisted a finger in his ear, removed it, viewed his finger made a face, then wiped it on the side of his pants. After which, he looked at me, at Fourie, and at me again. He reached forward and gently tugged at a tendril of mine. “Such a pretty girl,” he said in a husky voice. “Even though your pa messed up your pretty face, you are still such a looker.”
My instinct told me that it was not a compliment. It also made me cross my arms in front of my chest.
My instinct was right – Warden Jonas pulled my chair so that my knees were between his thighs.  It felt invasive, wrong, but what could I do about it? All I could do was try not to think about our thighs touching. “Sign the papers, Sarie.”
I didn’t react.
His thighs suddenly slammed shut against mine, his eyes fixed on mine.
I swallowed hard and tried not to feel, not to think.  
Suddenly, he shoved his knee between my thighs. A loud gasp escaped me at his move. With the wall behind me, and Jonas placed firmly in front of me, there was no place for me to go.
He tilted his head and said, “You remind me of this chick in school. She was a goffel (whore), but she was … fun. He pushed his tongue deep into his left cheek, then his right. “That’s why I like you, Sarie, you remind me so much of her.” When his knee wedged deeper between my thighs, I put both hands on his thigh and attempted to push his leg away. It didn’t work, he was a wall himself. With a sinister smile on his face, he watched and fed off my fear.
“We had so much fun in the back of my father’s bakkie, I tell you.” With every word he uttered, his knee inched closer and closer to my crotch.
I was eighteen, a prisoner at his mercy, while he was in his fifties, with one of the most dangerous kinds of power a despot can have – that of a prison warden. I had never felt so utterly powerless in my life.
Not knowing what to do, my eyes dropped to his shirt button and stayed there.
“Your tits are better than hers though.” 
I looked at Fourie, with pleading eyes – Do something please! Rescue me from his disgusting colleague. Fourie simply deadpanned.
For a few moments we sat in silence, Jonas’ knee wedging closer and closer to my crotch, my hand still on his thigh, still trying to stop him.
Jonas suddenly sat back, folded his arms and glared at me. Relived, I used that time to swivel my body away from his so that I could escape his knee should he try that again.
For a few moments, the two men silently watched me try to compose my rattled self.
Once again, probably believing that he had intimidated me enough, Jonas pushed the document toward me.
I shook my head.
“Sign the papers, Sarie,” Jonas said, his voice taut and threatening.
“Nee, meneer, I can’t. Sorry.”
“Sign. The. Papers. Sarie!”
I said nothing, did nothing.  
With his head tilted, he stared at me. “You like kaffirs that much?”
I didn’t think the question deserved the dignity of an answer.
“Black cock? That your fetish, eh? Black cock?”
My eyes lowered to the button on his chest and stayed there while he degraded me.
“What’s wrong with white cock?”
I didn’t answer.
He leaned in and said, “Which white man is going to want to marry a white woman, that has had a black cock inside of her? You are damaged goods now, girl. You are going to be shunned by everyone around because of your love for black cock. Your whole family will be shunned because of your disgusting fetish. You want that? You want to bring such shame to your poor mother and father?”
I said nothing.
“Sign the papers and save yourself, Sarie. Do it for your family. Do it! Say he raped you. Say he took you by force.”
I moved back in my chair, a clear indication that I was not going to lie about my relationship with Shabba.
Jonas suddenly crashed his fist into the table, causing the pen to fly into the air and almost hit me. “Sign the foking PAPERS SARIE!”
Although I jumped with fear, I did not reach for the papers.  He spent a moment peering at the fist he had crashed into the table, before he turned and looked at Fourie. The two of them seemed to communicate with their eyes.
With a nod, Jonas turned to look at me, a slight smile on his face. “Ja, well, no fine. Sarie Vorster, we must respect your wishes.”
Despite the smile, his words did nothing to comfort me. Jonas started the conversation with me by warning me how much he disliked failing, remember? From the onset, it was clear that he wanted to impress the great Pastor Schoeman Vorster with his koeksisters and Rooibos tea. Because of my obstinate attitude, not wanting to send an innocent man to prison, Jonas would have to declare that he had failed with me. How could he not be angry with me? What was in store for me now? I groaned inwardly at the thought of what punishment lay ahead, now that I had offended the warden, the one person who held all the power in this place.
Both men stood up, and without another word, sauntered out of the room.  Are they going to giving up on me? I wondered as they left the room and shut the door behind them. Do they plan to take me back to my cell? Feeling emotionally and physically drained, I longed for them to go away. All of them. Especially my furious father. Even the confines of my dirty and dingy cell would have been better than being near my father and his fists of fury.
Moments later, the door to the interview room opened, and in walked my father. Strangely, he was alone. Even stranger, he shut the door and turned to look at me.  The, to my absolute horror, he began to crack his knuckles.
END of Excerpt

ColourBlind – A heartbreaking, heart-soaring tale of love and loss that will make you laugh, make you cry and keep you turning pages.
Coming soon!

Every week until publication, I will be releasing a short followup excerpt from book 1 of ColorBlind. Since Facebook does not always show us each other’s feed, please subscribe to this blog to avoid missing out.

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When Arena’s car is stolen with her toddler in it, she points at Tom, her abusive ex-husband. The police point at Bear, her cop boyfriend, who adores both her, and her children. Trouble is, Bear cannot be found. In fact, according to the police, Bear’s comrades, he does not exist!
Arena’s whole world begins to tilt. Who does she believe? Who does she trust?

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ASHES OF TEMPTATION – Now Live on Amazon!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The final instalment in the explosive Temptation series (Girl on Fire Series) is now live on Amazon!

Will Karma deliver the fate Scarlett deserves, or will it be a case of Teflon Scarlett again?

“An emotional rollercoaster that had enough twists and turns to keep me totally enthralled.” Amazon reviewer

Excerpt:

“What if the tables were turned? What if she went to prison for him, to save him, to protect him,

only to return home and find that he had quietly moved on with someone else? With someone that had

sent her to prison? With someone she believed was the enemy? Worse, when she returned, she finds that

he has sired a child with that person? Would she be justified in wanting to hurt him? Would she be justified

of wanting to kill them both?”

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this site for updates and news on my books.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ashes of Temptation – Book Teaser 2 – by Eve Rabi

Blog 2 Ashes of Temptation 3 Sept 18.jpg
People say it’s okay to fail in life sometimes. They say it can be a stepping stone to … blah! blah! blah! They’re right.
I’ll tell you one thing you should never fail at. Murder. Oh, no, it’s one of the worst things you can possibly fail at. Especially a carefully orchestrated one. Ask anyone behind bars for attempted murder and they will tell you, that kind of failure is not an option, and it’s a stepping stone to time in prison.
In my case, my husband had an affair. That was okay – it happens. What was not okay, was him and his mistress, luring unsuspecting me to my death, burying me alive, she assuming my identity, they living a charmed life.
You feeling sorry for me? You should. Can you think of anything worse than being buried alive? No? You’re right – there isn’t anything worse than that – it’s pure hell.
It’s okay though, because they failed at murder, so they would live to regret it, because … I’m alive and I’m coming after them! Shhhh!

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The second excerpt from Ashes of Temptation (Temptation Series):

The story continues …

Colin raises his hand to backhand her, when they are interrupted by the sound of a crying baby.

Colin, appearing startled and surprised, jerks his head to look at the baby bassinette lying next to Clover’s bed. It was covered in a sheet, so he’s somehow missed it.

With his brow furrowed, and dragging Clover with, he raises the sheet and stares at the baby, his eyes widening as he does. “We have a baby?” The question is bad enough, without the sudden excitement in his eyes.

The look on his face tells her that his mind is gauging and calculating – How can this baby be mine when I’ve been in prison for three years? His neck jerks to look at her. “Then … whose …” His eyes turn to slits.

Clover’s knees buckle with fear. He is already so angry, if she tells him the truth, what then? Will he hurt the baby?
Clover launches into survival mode. “Please, Colin,” she begs, wiping blood off her mouth. “Please, just … calm down and … and I’ll tell you. Please!”

He stares at her.

The baby continues to cry.

When Drover hears the baby cry, he slams his shoulder harder against the door. The sounds of the door slamming against the set of drawers, only serves to make the baby cry louder.

Inside the room, Clover’s begging and pleading continues. “Please, he’s so little, Colin, and he’s crying. Let me get to him. Please, I beg of you.”

He doesn’t move; he seems frozen.

“Please, he’s like Angel … like Eden, but little. Please, Colin.”
Bringing Angel and Eden’s names into the fray works – Colin’s hold on her hair relaxes. Clover darts out of his reach, quickly slips on a dressing gown, and with shaking hands, picks up her baby.

As Colin watches his wife soothe a baby that’s not his, his shoulders round. “You have a baby with him, Clover?”

She gives Colin an apologetic look.

Colin sits on the edge of the bed and mutters, “How could this be happening?”

“Colin, I’m so s … sorry. I am. I’m just so sorry.”

He stares at her in silence.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’m so sorry, Colin.”

“I’m going to kill him, Clover.” His tone of voice is so matter-of-fact, Clover is suddenly covered in goose bumps. She looks at the door that threatening to burst open any moment. On one hand she wants Drover to enter the room, on the other, she is terrified of what might happened when he does.

“I promise, I am going to kill him.”
Stay calm! Stay calm! The most important thing to Clover right now, is to get the baby out of this room and to safety. Colin’s state of mind – he’s hit her and he’s threatened to kill Drover – is terrifying right now. Most of all, she is terrified he may harm the baby. She doesn’t care what he does to her; she just wants to keep the baby from harm.

“Please, Colin, the baby needs his bottle. “Please …”

Colin stares at the baby, ignoring the sound of the door being broken down, ignoring her pleas, a somewhat baffled look on his face.

“Open the fucking door, Callan!” Drover says, fear in his voice.
“Please, Colin, he’s just a little baby and he needs a feed. Please …”
After staring at her for a while, Colin gets to his feet and walks toward the door. He stands in front of the cupboard blocking the door and watches it move inch by inch with Drover’s shoving.

Clover holds her breath – will he allow her out, or won’t he?

Then, to her absolute relief, Colin pushes away the cupboard.

The door flies open and Clover rushes out with the baby in her arms, colliding with Drover in the passageway.

“Did he hurt you?” Drover demands, pushing her aside to stand in front of Colin.

With the baby in her arms, Clover tries to hold Drover back, wanting to prevent a physical confrontation between him and Colin. In her mind, Colin is not the villain here, he is the victim. She cheated on him.

“He didn’t hurt me, Drover. He didn’t!”

Drover points at her split lip. “You’re bleeding! Don’t lie to me, Love!”
“Drover, listen to me: I fell. I fell and hit the … the side of the chair when … when I got out of bed. In my haste. He didn’t hurt me.”
“That’s a lie!” Drover snarls, trying to push past her.

With her baby in her arms, she desperately tries to block his path. “Drover, stop!”

“Why were you screaming, then? Huh? He hurt you. I can tell. Step aside. NOW!”
“No!” Clover says, “I … I was just … just … I’m okay.” She thrusts the baby at Drover. “Give him a bottle of milk, please. Go!”

Drover doesn’t take the baby from Clover, and he doesn’t move.

For a few moments, they all stand in a row, Drover, Clover and Colin. Behind Drover is  Andrew, Daisy and Milton, all with shocked looks on their faces.

“Please, Drover, be part of the solution, not the problem. Please.”

Drover looks at Clover’s flushed face, at Colin’s angry one, and says, “Daisy, take the baby.”
Daisy steps forward and takes the baby off Clover.

Even though Clover is afraid right now – afraid that Colin might attack her again now that the baby is out of her arms, afraid of a physical confrontation between Colin and Drover, she  knows what she must do – calm Colin down.

She turns to him. “Colin, please … let’s go downstairs and talk.”

“Go put on some clothes!” Colin says.

That order from him, random as it is, is a startling reminder that she is still married to him. That he still believes that she is his wife.

She looks at Drover.

He has a sneer on his face.

Clover wants to put on some clothes, but she dares not leave Colin and Drover alone for a moment. Nor will she ask Colin to go into the room with her to put on some clothes.

Having no choice, Clover pulls her gown tightly around her, and in a firm voice says, “I’m okay, Colin. Let’s go downstairs.” She looks at Drover and motions for him to lead the way.

He does, and she follows him downstairs, with Colin behind her.

blog insert snake

*****

They stand in the living room in a triangle – Drover, Clover and Colin. A short distance away stands Milton with his arms folded. Lurking in the back of the room are Andrew and Daisy.

“Can you please give us some space?” Clover whispers to Drover.

Drover shakes his head from side to side.

“Drover, it’s okay.”
He remains where he is, a stubborn look on his face.

“Drover, please!” she begs.

“Don’t ask me that again, Love,” he snaps.

With a sigh, Clover turns to Colin. “Colin, look, I’m –”

“Whose house is this, Clover?” Colin demands. “I need the truth, you hear?”
With a nod, Clover says, “Drover’s house, I mean, Phillip. But, but … but … Colin, I live here. I rent it with our girls.”
“You rent it from him?”
“Y … yes …”

“You’re having an affair with this jerk?” Milton demands from a distance. “The one who put your husband behind bars? Huh?”
Clover glares at Milton. “You be quiet! This does not concern you. Please!”
Milton gives a mirthless chuckle. “Right.”

Clover turns back to Colin. “When did you get released, Colin? Like why? I mean, how did you get out?”

Colin doesn’t answer; he just stares at Clover, his jaw clenched, that look in his eye again that tells her that his brain is trying to process all that he’s hearing.
“Early release, four years’ probation,” Milton says in an impatient voice. “Nutshell. Your turn, Mrs. Callan.” He tilts his head at her.

Ignoring Milton, Clover looks at Colin. “Really, Colin? That’s … that’s wonder –”

“Wonderful?” Colin sneers. “Please!”

Clover looks away, her face red with embarrassment. She looks at Drover. He is glaring at Milton, a scowl on his face.

Colin looks around. “Where are my daughters?”
“Angel is at a sleepover at –”

“How convenient,” Milton says. “Get rid of the kids so you two can –”

“Mate, shut the fuck up!” Drover snarls. advancing toward Milton.

Milton quickly backs down.
“Colin, I will pick her up soon,” Clover says in a modulated voice. “They’ve had a birthday party for Arena’s daughter Savannah, yesterday. A sleepover. Slumber party. Eden is here. Asleep.” She points upstairs.

“Why do you call him Drover?” Colin demands.
Clover hesitates. Tell the truth and have Drover disbarred, or skirt the question? She chooses the latter. “Because … Colin, it’s a long story.”
Colin folds his arms and looks at Clover. “I’ve got time, and I want the truth. Everything. Every single thing!”

Clover covers her face with her hands. Every little thing. Where does she start?

Colin reaches and pulls away her hands.

“Hey!” Drover says.

Colin stands up straight and looks at Drover, a yeah?-what-you-gonna-do-about-it? look on his face.

Clover quickly flashes her palm at Drover, urging him to be quiet. She then looks pointedly at Milton.

Milton rolls his eyes, before backing out of the house, muttering something about how much his daughter is going to love this drama.
Clover turns to Colin. “O … kay.” She blows out a breath that sends her fringe fluttering. “Colin, I met Drover years ago and I had a … a relationship with him.”
“No, that can’t be.” Colin shakes his head vigorously from side to side. “You did not have a relationship with him, Clover. No!”
“I did.”
“Clover, he acted for the state, against me. He would have had to recuse himself from the case if there was something between the two of you. You would have told me about it.”
Clover chews on her lower lip, unsure what to say.

“Oh, I get it – he wanted to be involved so that he could send me away, pave the way for himself.” He nods. “It makes sense now.”
“Bullshit!” Drover says.

“I’m not talking to you!” Colin snaps, darting his finger at Colin.

“Colin, stop!” Clover cries.

“Mate …” Drover says, “don’t point your fucking finger at me!”

“Drover, please!” Clover says.
“I’m not your mate,” Colin says moving toward Drover. “So, don’t call me mate.”

Clover grabs hold of Colin’s t-shirt. “Colin, stop!”

“Or you’ll do what, mate?” Drover snarls, moving toward Colin.
“Drover, just stop!” Clover begs.

Andrew steps between the angry men and does his bit to help keep them apart.

“And don’t call her Love,” Colin says. “Her name is Clover. Clover Callan.”
With a defiant look on his face, Drover says, “Love – she’s Love to me.”
“I’ll smash your face in,” Colin says. “You wanna try me. I’ve been in prison, remember? You put me there so you could steal my family. Remember?”
“Fuck you! You put yourself there because you were a jerk to your wife. Don’t blame others. Take responsibility for your actions, man.”

The men glare at each other, both bristling with fury.

Clover is at a loss – what does she do next?

“I’m going to kill you,” Colin warns in a quiet voice.

Again, Colin’s tone of voice is matter-of-fact, an announcement, rather than a threat, brings another bout of goose bumps for Clover.

“Dad … dad … must I call the police?” Daisy asks from a distance.

Drover does not answer.
“No,” Clover mouths to Daisy. “Call Ritchie. Tell him to come quickly. Ask him to bring Bear with. Hurry!”

With a nod, a nervous Daisy makes the call.

Clover turns to Colin. “Colin, please calm down. I can explain everything. Just give me a chance to.”

Colin grabs her arm. “Explain? Explain how you visited me in prison while carrying his baby, and managed to keep it from me? Explain that, Clover?”

“Hey, take it easy,” Drover says. “Don’t manhandle her.”
“You shut your mouth!” Colin snarls. “You scum! You goddamn thief!”

“Oh, God!” Clover moans.

“Thief?” Drover’s chuckle is dry. “Who stole from their congregation, huh? Millions of dollars?”

“Drover, please!” Clover begs.

Colin moves toward Drover, his fists clenched. “Get the hell out of here! Now!”

“This is my house!” Drover says.

“Drover, please,” Clover begs, tears filling in her eyes. “I need your help here. Please?”

Drover takes in Love’s liquid eyes and simmers down. With a nod, he backs out of the room, muttering, “He better not touch you.”

As Drover turns to walk out of the living room, Colin does something Clover never thought he’d do. He lunges at Drover and punches him in the temple. Blindsided, Drover stumbles ahead and crashes into a table.

Clover screams.

Drover turns around and, boots Colin in the knee.

Colin falls to the ground.

“You threw the first punch mate,” Drover says, standing over Colin, his fists balled, his legs astride. “You start something, I’ll finish it, mate. Don’t fuck with me! Don’t FUCK with me! Especially not in my home.”

While still on the ground, Colin lashes out with his foot, slamming his boot into Drover’s ankle, sending him crashing to the ground.

Daisy and Clover’s screams fill up the quiet neighbourhood.

Just when Clover thinks it can’t get any worse, six policemen charge into the house.

“Colin’s on probation!” Clover shrieks. “Oh God!”

End of Excerpt.

Ashes of Temptation coming soon!

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Ashes of Temptation – Cover Reveal – a book by Eve Rabi (2nd Debut)

          

 

 

 

 

Coming soon!

I do believe that some of you couldn’t access this post, so if you haven’t been able to, here it is again!

An Excerpt from Ruins of Temptation
(Already published)

A shirtless Drover gets out of bed and stumbles downstairs, throws open the door and balks at

the sight of Colin on his doorstep, roses and teddy bears in hand.

At the sight of attorney Phillip Sterling, Colin’s smile dips. This is the man who pulled a dirty on

him. Not his favorite person.

“I think I have the wrong house,” Colin mumbles as he backs away. “Apologies.” He turns and walks down the footpath.

From the car, Milton sees the shirtless Phillip Sterling at the door. He knows Phillip – he’s the man who put his daughter away in prison. Not his favorite person either. What the hell? Maybe we have the wrong address.

“Wait!” Drover calls.

Colin stops and turns around.

“Why are you out of prison?”

“Look it up if you want to know,” Colin says in an abrupt voice, then turns to continue walking.

“Callan!”

With a sigh, Colin stops and turns around. “What do you want, Sterling? I don’t have time.”

“Wait!” Drover says. “Just a moment. Are you looking for …?”

“I’m looking for my wife. Clover Callan, remember her? My daughters? My family? Clearly, I have the wrong house.” He turns around and walks again.

“Wait! She’s here!”

Colin whirls around.

“She … this is the house,” Drover says. “She’s here.”

Colin tilts his head at Drover. “My wife is here? In this house?”

After a slight hesitation, Drover nods.

Colin squints at him. “Where?”

“Upstairs.”

Colin’s eyes sweep over Drover, taking in the fact that he is shirtless, wearing just a pair of short, looking like he’s just rolled out of bed. He turns to look at Milton, then back at Drover. “I don’t understand – is my wife living here with you?”

Drover doesn’t answer; he just stares at Colin with one hand on his head.

End of excerpt from Ruins of Temptation

The story continues in Ashes of Temptation

Excerpt from Ashes of Temptation 

Colin’s eyes flicker with confusion – if Clover is living here, if she is upstairs, why is this attorney from the public prosecutor’s office, the one who reneged on their deal, who double-crossed him and put him behind bars for seven years, shirtless and bare feet in the very same home? Colin blinks hard – Am I dreaming?

Drover blinks equally hard – how is this possible? Callan should be in prison right now – am I dreaming?

The hostility in Callan’s eyes tell him he’s may not be trapped in a bad dream after all. Drover glances upstairs, debating with himself – should he shout and warn out to Love, or go to her, whisper in her ear and bring her downstairs? He is certain Love will be equally shocked to see Colin here. Finally, he says, “Okay, look, if you wait here, I wi –”

Still clutching the two teddy bears and the bunch of roses, Colin pushes past Drover and strides into the house.

“Hey, wait in a minute!” Drover says, running after Colin.
Ignoring Drover, Colin walks around the house, sighting things that only compound his confusion – Eden’s rocking horse, Angel’s favourite blanket, a portable baby cot, Clover’s discarded jacket …

He pauses to pick up Clover’s jacket and stares at it. He was with her when she bought it. She even wore it to prison when she visited him in it.

“Look, just wait here and I will call her,” Drover says, a thread of anxiousness in his voice.

After a cursory glance at Drover, Colin pauses at the foot of the stairs and look upstairs.

Drover steps in front of Colin, blocking his path. “Wait here, and –”

Ignoring Drover and adding Clover’s jacket to the roses and teddy bears in his arms, Colin side-steps Drover and takes the stairs two at a time.

“Hold on there!” Drover yells.
Colin pokes his head into the bedrooms, looking for Clover. Even though the first bedroom is empty, it is instantly recognizable as Angel’s because of the photos of him and Angel on the wall. I’m in the right house.

He walks fast into the second bedroom, where he finds Eden fast asleep. His frown softens as he stares at his daughter that he hasn’t seen in three years.

. Fighting the urge to hug his daughter, Colin turns and almost runs out of the room in search of his wife.
When he reaches the third room, the door is shut. He flings it open and looks into the face of the woman lying in bed.

Clover.

His wife.

“Colin!” Clover cries when she sees Colin in her bedroom, clutching the teddy bears, roses and her jacket. “Wha …” The words die on her lips as she looks at Drover at the doorway, his palms turned out.

“Clover?” Colin whispers.

“I … Colin … ohmygod!” is all Clover can say, before she clamps both hands across her mouth.

With a dazed expression on his face, Colin looks at Drover, at Clover, at Drover, then again at Clover. “Wha … wha … what … Clover …” He rubs his eyes with his knuckles, “Am I … dreaming?”

Clover is speechless.

Colin stands in the middle of the bedroom, Clover’s jacket still in his hand, his eyes squinting at the tell-tale signs of a couple sharing a room – Drover’s phone and wrist watch on the bedside table, along with a half-finished bottle of water and the TV remote, the rumpled bedlinen next to Clover, Drover’s t-shirt and shoes on the floor.

Colin stares at Clover and the flimsy nightdress that shows her nipples. “I must be dreaming,” he mutters, blinking hard.

“Colin, I can explain,” Clover says, as she pulls the bedcovers over her, a move that only serves to highlight her lack of modesty, her duplicity. She opens her mouth to explain, but shock and disbelief renders her mute. Under Colin’s piercing gaze, she hangs her head.

For a while no one speaks.

Drover breaks the silence. “Look, Callan –”

Colin swings around to look at Drover. “Can you do me a favour?”

After a slight hesitation, Drover shrugs.

“There’s someone at the door. Can you let him in, please?”

“Who is it?” Drover asks, reluctant to leave Clover right now.

“My parole officer. He needs to meet … my wife.”
Drover looks at Clover, glances behind him, then at Clover again.

Relieved that his parole officer is around to may serve as a buffer to the situation, Clover’s head bobs. “Go! Let him in. Please!”

Drover too is relieved. He’s seen the car parked in his driveway, so he steps out of the room, eager to bring in the parole officer.

The moment he leaves the room, Colin flings down the jacket, the roses and the teddy bears. He slams the bedroom door shut then locks it.

Clover is startled that he would lock the door. “Colin, shouldn’t we go downstairs to meet …”

The words die on her lips when she watches Colin drag a cupboard across the door. Fear bolts through when she realizes that she is now trapped in the room with Colin. With a Colin that lured Drover out of the room, then locked the door.

The moment the door locks, Drover realizes what just happened. He rushes to open the door, slams his shoulder into it, but it won’t budge. He runs to fetch a baseball bat and slams it against the door, hoping to create a hole in it. The bat breaks on the first hit.

Inside the bedroom, when he’s sure they no one can leave, and that no one can enter, Colin turns slowly to look at Clover. “Are you living with him? Are you sleeping with him?” Colin advances toward her as he speaks, his eyes hooded, his voice low and controlled. Too controlled for a man who just caught his wife in bed with another man.

The expression in his eyes is familiar – she’d seen it just before, when he tried to strangle her at the Church of Light. When he believed she was Scarlett trying to pass herself off as Love. For days after that, she slept in a locked office with a Taser at hand, for fear he would harm her.

Clover scrambles back in bed. “Colin …I can explain …”

Colin towers over her, burly and muscular, more muscular than she’s known him to be. The cords in his neck, the twitching of his jaw, the flaring of his nostrils, augments her fear.

“Hey, open this door!” Drover shouts from outside the room. “Callan!”

Ignoring the rattling of the doorknob and Drover’s banging on the door, Colin says, “Don’t explain, just answer my question – are you living … are you, my wife … are you living with Phillip Sterling?”

Clutching the bedcovers, Clover looks away. “I … I … Colin …”

“Are you sleeping with him, CLOVER? I need to hear it from you.”

Clover doesn’t answer. Instead, she looks at the door, gauging and calculating – should she make a dash for it? She is fast on her feet, sure, but what about the cupboard?

Colin suddenly lunges at her, grabs her by the hair and drags her out of bed.

Clover’s terrified scream can be heard outside the house in the still of the morning.

“I asked you a goddam question!” he says, planting her in front of him, his bulging eyes boring into hers, his breathing erratic.

When she doesn’t answer, he jerks her toward him, slamming her into his chest. “Tell me, Clover. Tell me.”

“I … Colin… you’re hurting me, Colin!” she cries, as he holds onto her hair.

Milton, who now stands outside his car, is startled by the sound of a woman’s scream.

Realizing something is wrong, he hurries into the house and toward the sound of the screams. “Oh, shit!” he says when he sees Drover slamming his shoulder against the bedroom door.

“Call the cops!” Drover says.

Milton hesitates.

“Call the cops!” Drover repeats. My phone’s inside the room!”

Milton hesitates.

“What?” Drover demands.

“He’ll go back to jail.”
“Call the FUCKING cops!” Drover shouts.

Just then Andrew and Daisy burst into the house.

“Dad!” Daisy cries. “What’s going on?”

“Andy, help me,” Drover says. “I broke the lock, but something’s against the door.”

Inside the room, a terrified Clover tries to stay calm, even though she looks into Colin’s face, puce with rage.

“When did you start this affair?”
As Clover tries to think of an answer, a whimper escapes her.

“Answer me, CLOVER!”

She doesn’t answer, because through her terror, she knows that whatever answer she gives will be unacceptable.

Colin suddenly slaps her across the face, splitting her lip. “I’m going to kill you, Clover!”

End of Excerpt for Ashes of Temptation

Coming soon!

PS: My Facebook account is still under temporary lock due to a phishing scam, so I am unable to respond to your messages on FB. Feel free to contact me via this blog, or everabi2012@hotmail.com

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Ashes of Temptation – by Eve Rabi – Cover Reveal

          

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Coming soon!

An Excerpt from Ruins of Temptation
(Already published)

A shirtless Drover gets out of bed and stumbles downstairs, throws open the door and balks at

the sight of Colin on his doorstep, roses and teddy bears in hand.

At the sight of attorney Phillip Sterling, Colin’s smile dips. This is the man who pulled a dirty on

him. Not his favorite person.

“I think I have the wrong house,” Colin mumbles as he backs away. “Apologies.” He turns and walks down the footpath.

From the car, Milton sees the shirtless Phillip Sterling at the door. He knows Phillip – he’s the man who put his daughter away in prison. Not his favorite person either. What the hell? Maybe we have the wrong address.

“Wait!” Drover calls.

Colin stops and turns around.

“Why are you out of prison?”

“Look it up if you want to know,” Colin says in an abrupt voice, then turns to continue walking.

“Callan!”

With a sigh, Colin stops and turns around. “What do you want, Sterling? I don’t have time.”

“Wait!” Drover says. “Just a moment. Are you looking for …?”

“I’m looking for my wife. Clover Callan, remember her? My daughters? My family? Clearly, I have the wrong house.” He turns around and walks again.

“Wait! She’s here!”

Colin whirls around.

“She … this is the house,” Drover says. “She’s here.”

Colin tilts his head at Drover. “My wife is here? In this house?”

After a slight hesitation, Drover nods.

Colin squints at him. “Where?”

“Upstairs.”

Colin’s eyes sweep over Drover, taking in the fact that he is shirtless, wearing just a pair of short, looking like he’s just rolled out of bed. He turns to look at Milton, then back at Drover. “I don’t understand – is my wife living here with you?”

Drover doesn’t answer; he just stares at Colin with one hand on his head.

End of excerpt from Ruins of Temptation

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The story continues in Ashes of Temptation

Excerpt from Ashes of Temptation 

Colin’s eyes flicker with confusion – if Clover is living here, if she is upstairs, why is this attorney from the public prosecutor’s office, the one who reneged on their deal, who double-crossed him and put him behind bars for seven years, shirtless and bare feet in the very same home? Colin blinks hard – Am I dreaming?

Drover blinks equally hard – how is this possible? Callan should be in prison right now – am I dreaming?

The hostility in Callan’s eyes tell him he’s may not be trapped in a bad dream after all. Drover glances upstairs, debating with himself – should he shout and warn out to Love, or go to her, whisper in her ear and bring her downstairs? He is certain Love will be equally shocked to see Colin here. Finally, he says, “Okay, look, if you wait here, I wi –”

Still clutching the two teddy bears and the bunch of roses, Colin pushes past Drover and strides into the house.

“Hey, wait in a minute!” Drover says, running after Colin.
Ignoring Drover, Colin walks around the house, sighting things that only compound his confusion – Eden’s rocking horse, Angel’s favourite blanket, a portable baby cot, Clover’s discarded jacket …

He pauses to pick up Clover’s jacket and stares at it. He was with her when she bought it. She even wore it to prison when she visited him in it.

“Look, just wait here and I will call her,” Drover says, a thread of anxiousness in his voice.

After a cursory glance at Drover, Colin pauses at the foot of the stairs and look upstairs.

Drover steps in front of Colin, blocking his path. “Wait here, and –”

Ignoring Drover and adding Clover’s jacket to the roses and teddy bears in his arms, Colin side-steps Drover and takes the stairs two at a time.

“Hold on there!” Drover yells.
Colin pokes his head into the bedrooms, looking for Clover. Even though the first bedroom is empty, it is instantly recognizable as Angel’s because of the photos of him and Angel on the wall. I’m in the right house.

He walks fast into the second bedroom, where he finds Eden fast asleep. His frown softens as he stares at his daughter that he hasn’t seen in three years.

. Fighting the urge to hug his daughter, Colin turns and almost runs out of the room in search of his wife.
When he reaches the third room, the door is shut. He flings it open and looks into the face of the woman lying in bed.

Clover.

His wife.

“Colin!” Clover cries when she sees Colin in her bedroom, clutching the teddy bears, roses and her jacket. “Wha …” The words die on her lips as she looks at Drover at the doorway, his palms turned out.

“Clover?” Colin whispers.

“I … Colin … ohmygod!” is all Clover can say, before she clamps both hands across her mouth.

With a dazed expression on his face, Colin looks at Drover, at Clover, at Drover, then again at Clover. “Wha … wha … what … Clover …” He rubs his eyes with his knuckles, “Am I … dreaming?”

Clover is speechless.

Colin stands in the middle of the bedroom, Clover’s jacket still in his hand, his eyes squinting at the tell-tale signs of a couple sharing a room – Drover’s phone and wrist watch on the bedside table, along with a half-finished bottle of water and the TV remote, the rumpled bedlinen next to Clover, Drover’s t-shirt and shoes on the floor.

Colin stares at Clover and the flimsy nightdress that shows her nipples. “I must be dreaming,” he mutters, blinking hard.

“Colin, I can explain,” Clover says, as she pulls the bedcovers over her, a move that only serves to highlight her lack of modesty, her duplicity. She opens her mouth to explain, but shock and disbelief renders her mute. Under Colin’s piercing gaze, she hangs her head.

For a while no one speaks.

Drover breaks the silence. “Look, Callan –”

Colin swings around to look at Drover. “Can you do me a favour?”

After a slight hesitation, Drover shrugs.

“There’s someone at the door. Can you let him in, please?”

“Who is it?” Drover asks, reluctant to leave Clover right now.

“My parole officer. He needs to meet … my wife.”
Drover looks at Clover, glances behind him, then at Clover again.

Relieved that his parole officer is around to may serve as a buffer to the situation, Clover’s head bobs. “Go! Let him in. Please!”

Drover too is relieved. He’s seen the car parked in his driveway, so he steps out of the room, eager to bring in the parole officer.

The moment he leaves the room, Colin flings down the jacket, the roses and the teddy bears. He slams the bedroom door shut then locks it.

Clover is startled that he would lock the door. “Colin, shouldn’t we go downstairs to meet …”

The words die on her lips when she watches Colin drag a cupboard across the door. Fear bolts through when she realizes that she is now trapped in the room with Colin. With a Colin that lured Drover out of the room, then locked the door.

The moment the door locks, Drover realizes what just happened. He rushes to open the door, slams his shoulder into it, but it won’t budge. He runs to fetch a baseball bat and slams it against the door, hoping to create a hole in it. The bat breaks on the first hit.

Inside the bedroom, when he’s sure they no one can leave, and that no one can enter, Colin turns slowly to look at Clover. “Are you living with him? Are you sleeping with him?” Colin advances toward her as he speaks, his eyes hooded, his voice low and controlled. Too controlled for a man who just caught his wife in bed with another man.

The expression in his eyes is familiar – she’d seen it just before, when he tried to strangle her at the Church of Light. When he believed she was Scarlett trying to pass herself off as Love. For days after that, she slept in a locked office with a Taser at hand, for fear he would harm her.

Clover scrambles back in bed. “Colin …I can explain …”

Colin towers over her, burly and muscular, more muscular than she’s known him to be. The cords in his neck, the twitching of his jaw, the flaring of his nostrils, augments her fear.

“Hey, open this door!” Drover shouts from outside the room. “Callan!”

Ignoring the rattling of the doorknob and Drover’s banging on the door, Colin says, “Don’t explain, just answer my question – are you living … are you, my wife … are you living with Phillip Sterling?”

Clutching the bedcovers, Clover looks away. “I … I … Colin …”

“Are you sleeping with him, CLOVER? I need to hear it from you.”

Clover doesn’t answer. Instead, she looks at the door, gauging and calculating – should she make a dash for it? She is fast on her feet, sure, but what about the cupboard?

Colin suddenly lunges at her, grabs her by the hair and drags her out of bed.

Clover’s terrified scream can be heard outside the house in the still of the morning.

“I asked you a goddam question!” he says, planting her in front of him, his bulging eyes boring into hers, his breathing erratic.

When she doesn’t answer, he jerks her toward him, slamming her into his chest. “Tell me, Clover. Tell me.”

“I … Colin… you’re hurting me, Colin!” she cries, as he holds onto her hair.

Milton, who now stands outside his car, is startled by the sound of a woman’s scream.

Realizing something is wrong, he hurries into the house and toward the sound of the screams. “Oh, shit!” he says when he sees Drover slamming his shoulder against the bedroom door.

“Call the cops!” Drover says.

Milton hesitates.

“Call the cops!” Drover repeats. My phone’s inside the room!”

Milton hesitates.

“What?” Drover demands.

“He’ll go back to jail.”
“Call the FUCKING cops!” Drover shouts.

Just then Andrew and Daisy burst into the house.

“Dad!” Daisy cries. “What’s going on?”

“Andy, help me,” Drover says. “I broke the lock, but something’s against the door.”

Inside the room, a terrified Clover tries to stay calm, even though she looks into Colin’s face, puce with rage.

“When did you start this affair?”
As Clover tries to think of an answer, a whimper escapes her.

“Answer me, CLOVER!”

She doesn’t answer, because through her terror, she knows that whatever answer she gives will be unacceptable.

Colin suddenly slaps her across the face, splitting her lip. “I’m going to kill you, Clover!”

End of Excerpt for Ashes of Temptation

Coming soon!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Ruins of Temptation – Eve Rabi

Cover Ruins of Temptation 6 June 2018.jpg

 

EXCERPT:

JOY AND DROVER 

“Joy! What are you doing here?”
The last person Drover expects to see on his doorstep is Joy. How she found out where he lives, he has no idea. Strangely, once he gets over his surprise, he is actually happy to see her.
“Hello, ex-husband! Is that the way you greet your ex-wife?” she asks in a sweet voice.

“Well, I …”

“You gonna ask me in or –”
“Come in! Come in!” He steps aside to allow her in.

She looks a little worse for wear – lines around her mouth and eyes, broken blood capillaries on her nose and cheeks, dishevelled and brittle hair, stains on her sweat suit, and she has put on weight. Since he’s last seen her, she appears to have aged. A lot.

Joy enters and looks around Drover’s home. “So, this really how you live these days?” Her voice is unmistakably critical.
“It’s okay,” Drover says in a defensive voice. “It’s all I need.” Mentally, he makes a note to get in a property stylist and fix the place.

“A far cry from the mansion we lived in,” she says in a sympathetic voice. “Poor Drover.”
Drover shrugs. “How are Daisy and Andrew?”
“Okay.” Her dismissive tone tells him that she does not want to discuss the children with him.

He gestures to a chair. “Coffee?”
“A beer would be great, thank you.”

Without thinking, he glances at his wristwatch. 8:58 A.M.

“Don’t be a prude now, Drover. It makes you look old and boring.”
“Okay.” He fetches her a beer and a Coke for himself.

Joy eyes him as she takes a sip of her beer. He’s in good shape, clean-shaven and neat. His shirt is creased, but other than that, he still looks good. Such a sharp contrast to Paul, who sports the look of a homeless man these days. Now that he’s no longer practicing law.

Imagine if I didn’t bring Paul into the house, Joy thinks. I would be sleeping next to this every night. Silly me.

“What brings you to Sydney?” Drover asks, shifting about in his chair. He has not seen Joy since he walked out of their house. Their speedy divorce was handled by their attorneys and since both parties cooperated, there was no need for face to face meetings.

“Okay, business …” Joy takes a sip of beer, puts it down and looks at him. “I’m curious as to how Jeff Pace could allow you to be involved in the Callan-Murdoch case?”

Her answer stuns Drover, and for a moment he just stares at her.

“I mean, you have declared your relationship with the defendant, right? The one you’ve dropped all charges against?”
Drover sucks in his bottom lip.

“The one whose husband you sent to prison?”

“Joy, I do not wish to discuss –”

“The one who lives in your property across the street?”

He stares at her in disbelief. How the hell did she know all of this?

“I’ve done my homework, Phillip,” she says, before she takes another swig of beer.

“What do you want, Joy?”
“All three of your properties.”

His jaw drops.

She drinks up.
“Joy … are you fucking nuts?”

“And I want her kicked out of that property. I do not want her living in it.”

“You want me to put her out? She has children!”

Staying focused, Joy reaches into her bag and pulls out a stack of papers. “I’ve made things easy for you by drawing up the documents. I will be trustee, after you resign of course. All I need is your signature and I’ll do the rest.”

Drover stares unblinking at Joy. “You drew up the paperwork?”
She nods and pushes it over to him.

He shoves the papers back at her. “Go fuck yourself!”

“I’m with Paul, still, so he’ll do all the fucking, thank you very much.” She smiles. “You on the other hand, will be fucked and disbarred, Drover. And the scandal at the offices of the Public Prosecutor? It will be huge, Drover. They may be forced to review the case against Love, retry her husband, and charges may even be levelled against you. Who knows, you may even face imprisonment.”

Drover stares at his ex-wife. She was right – everything that she said could happen. “I’ll take my chances,” he says, scraping back his chair and getting to his feet. “I don’t do blackmail.” He heads for the door.
“There will be pressure for Love to stand trial for her participation – I’ll campaign to make sure she does.”

Drover freezes.

Joy takes another swig of beer.

Drover slowly turns around to look at Joy. She jerks her chin toward his chair. After a slight hesitation, Drover walks back and stands behind his chair, his jaw clamped.

She smiles at him.

“How did you become this way, Joy? Where is the woman I married? The one I fell in love with? Huh?”
“She died when you cheated on her with that fucking waif, Drover!”
“No.” He shakes his head. “The joy I married, she wasn’t malicious. No, and I refuse to believe she could have morphed into this … this vicious woman sitting across me right now. This blackmailer. Paul is behind this, right? It has to be his idea.”

Joy’s wave is dismissive. “Regardless, I want your property portfolio, or I will bring you down, Drover. You and all those around you. It will be huge, it will be ugly.” She taps the document in front of him. “I’m not playing.”

Drover is at a loss for words. He flirts with the idea of succumbing, simply to avoid the case against Love being re-opened. What if he caves and gives in? Love and her children will be on the street. Okay, he can still help her out, but he knows that the blackmail will never end. He believes he will not be just fighting Joy, he will be fighting Paul as well. Paul was always underhanded. When they were young and in school, Drover regarded Paul’s antics as daring, amusing, entertaining, even. Paul was the bad boy, the risk taker, fearless and shrewd. He broke into neighbours’ homes and stole for weed, booze and for just partying in general. Petty thieving, so it was all fun seeing what he could get away with. Drover and Joy would laugh it all off when Paul bragged about his escapades. As they grew older, Paul became addicted to cocaine and booze, and his thieving escalated to more than petty crimes to fund his habit. Paul was a smart, shrewd attorney who represented big, unethical clients, so he commanded top dollar. However, he was always broke because of his drug habit. Unable to pay his bills, Paul pushed his brand-new Porsche into a lake, then reported it stolen. When he filed an insurance claim against it, the insurance company investigated. They then denied his claim and filed a charge of insurance fraud against Paul. Paul needed Drover’s help in providing him with an alibi. Drover refused to get involved. Paul became livid with Drover, they argued about it, and a wedge formed between the two friends. Drover didn’t care what Paul thought and began to distance himself from his friend.

Paul fired back by sleeping with Drover’s girl, Joy. She fell for the bad-boy image and had an affair with Paul. Drover immediately ended the relationship with Joy. She begged him to reconsider, saying she had made a mistake while intoxicated. Drover refused. Joy ended up falling pregnant by Paul. She married him and had another baby with him. Paul was eventually disbarred for using misusing money from a client’s trust account. Broke, unemployed, and with two small children to feed, Paul began to drink heavily and took out his frustrations on Joy and the children.

Joy called Drover from a women’s shelter one night and begged for his help.

He helped her, and slowly they rekindled their friendship. Drover fell in love with Andrew and Daisy, and they took to him right away, having never really bonded with Paul. After a long courtship, Joy and Drover managed to put the past behind them and resumed their relationship. Paul wanted nothing to do with Joy or his children, so Drover was the only father that Daisy and Andrew recognized. Until now – Drover believes that they may now consider Paul their father once again, a thought that hurts, even though it shouldn’t.

“Well?” Joy asks.

Drover stands up. “Say hello to the kids for me,” he says as he walks to the door and throws it open.

A look of surprise flits over Joy’s face.

“Say hello to attorney Stacy Wilson,” Joy says as she stands up. “Heard you’re about to adopt her.” Her smile is mocking.

Drover shakes his head. “Private detective?”
She nods. “How else?”

“Well, you should fire your P.I. because she’s a paralegal, not an attorney.”
“Oh, that explains the photos of the two of you on Instagram.”
Drover rubs his eye. Shit! He hates it when Stacy takes photos of them and posts them on social media.

“And on snapchat,” Joy continues in her mocking voice. “And Facebook, and all her other social media accounts. Who would have thought you’d be a vegan one day? I didn’t. You’re a meat and … more meat type of man. Well, that’s what I thought. Who would have thought you’d like fat-free, dairy-free, sugar-free vegan ice cream?”
“So you’re stalking me, then?” Drover says. “Stalking us?”
“Well, that little girl wants the world and his wife to see her every move, Drover. How can you blame me?” She gives him a saccharine smile. “It’s soooo sweet. Reminds me of my daughter – she’s always posting on social media. Kids that age … why you shaking your head, Drover?”

“Well, Joy, you know … I have always been there for you. From the time we were little, I’ve been someone you could rely on. So, I’m baffled as to why you’d want to destroy your strength? Who’ve you got other than me? Huh?” Before she can answer, he says, “Please don’t lie to yourself that Paul is there for you, that you have Paul, because we all know that Paul is only there for Paul, not even for his kids. You and I both know that. You wrote to him and asked him to attend Andrew sixteenth birthday – I know you did, because I saw your sent email. He told you to fuck off. He didn’t care about his children, but I cared, and I gave all I could to them. So why would you want to hurt me like this?”

Joy shrugs.

“I never meant to hurt you. I was lonely, lost with you and I had no hope, so I latched onto … onto a vine on a slippery slope, Joy, that’s all. A lifeline. But when push came to shove, Joy, when you came back into my life, I chose you, not her. Did you forget that?”
“You finished, Drover?”

“I put you before her, even though I could easily have gone the other way. I loved you and cared enough for you, to put you first.”

“Are you fin—”
“Let’s hope you don’t need me one day, Joy. Because you are burning a very vital bridge right now. The only lifeline you have ever had in your entire life. The only support in your children’s life, because you know that I love those children like my own.”
Joy’s response is to let out a long breath.

“Yes, Joy, I am finished.”

She sashays out of the house.

End of Excerpt 

 

Available 26 June 2018.

This is not a stand-alone book. It is one of the books in the Girl on Fire Series.Read The Other Woman (an epic and jaw-dropping collision between a betrayed wife and a cunning seductress),  which is available on #KindleUnlimited, Please read before you read this book. Fans of Girl on the Train and Gone Girl, The Affair, will be gripped by Eve Rabi’s riveting tale of love, lust and revenge.

#RomanticCrime #RomanticSuspense #StoriesofRevenge #VigilanteJustice #FreeonKindleUnlimited #LoveTriangles#TheOtherWoman

cover the other woman August 2017 MEDIUM.jpg.99 cents for a limited time!

 

Follow this blog to avoid missing out on the next excerpt/instalment. You’ll want to keep up with Scarlett’s karma, believe me!

RUINS OF TEMPTATION – Girl on Fire Series by Eve Rabi

Blog 1 Ruins of Temptation 6 June 18

Book 12 in the Girl on Fire series available 26 June 2018!

Follow this blog to avoid missing out on the next excerpt/instalment. You’ll want to keep up with Scarlett’s karma, believe me!

Cover Ruins of Temptation 6 June 2018.jpg
Available 26 June 2018

This is not a stand-alone book. It is one of the books in the Girl on Fire Series.
Read The Other Woman (an epic and jaw-dropping collision between a betrayed wife and a cunning seductress),  which is available on #KindleUnlimited, Please read before you read this book. 
Fans of Girl on the Train and Gone Girl, The Affair, will be gripped by Eve Rabi’s riveting tale of love, lust and revenge.
#RomanticCrime #RomanticSuspense #StoriesofRevenge #VigilanteJustice #FreeonKindleUnlimited #LoveTriangles#TheOtherWoman

cover the other woman August 2017 MEDIUM.jpg.99 cents for a limited time!

 

Wordpress promo banner the other woman 18 dec 17 Eve Rabi
                                               .99 cents for a limited time!

FRAGMENTS OF TEMPTATION – Girl on Fire Series by Eve Rabi

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Book 11 in the Girl on Fire Series is now available on Amazon.

 

Links to download this book:

 

Follow this blog to avoid missing out on the next excerpt/instalment. You’ll want to keep up with Scarlett’s karma, believe me!

This is not a stand-alone book. It is one of the books in the Girl on Fire Series.
Read The Other Woman (an epic and jaw-dropping collision between a betrayed wife and a cunning seductress),  which is available on #KindleUnlimited, Please read before you read this book. (.99 cents for a limited time!)
Fans of Girl on the Train and Gone Girl, The Affair, will love Eve Rabi’s tale of love, lust and revenge.
#RomanticCrime #RomanticSuspense #StoriesofRevenge #VigilanteJustice #FreeonKindleUnlimited #LoveTriangles#TheOtherWoman

cover the other woman August 2017 MEDIUM.jpg.99 cents for a limited time!

Wordpress promo banner the other woman 18 dec 17 Eve Rabi

.99 cents for a limited time!

 

IT’S NOT MY FAULT!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I have just learned that my U.K. readers aren’t able to access Embers of Temptation, from the Girl on Fire series. This is most disappointing for me, and my readers, who I know have been waiting impatiently for the next instalment in the series.
Here I am, forfeiting Zumba dance classes to bring out the book in record time, only to have some Amazonian glitch f**king up my book release! Why do bad things happen to good people?

Anyway, I have contacted Amazon via their “helpful” chat line, told them off, threatened to fire every one of them, using CAPS and six !!!!!! after each of my threats. Even though I am unable to fire them because they are Goliath and I am … well, David’s third wife. So, to speak.

I do believe my threats have scared the JeffBezos out of them, for they are working around the clock, forfeiting lunch and chai breaks to resolve the issue so that my beloved U.K. readers can access this book.
Well, I … I think they might forfeit lunch and tea breaks.
I’m hoping they do.
They’d better, if they don’t want me to take my business somewhere ELSE!!!!!! (See how effective six exclamation marks after a threat can be?) Taking away my business will undoubtedly put a massive hole in Jeff Bezos’ 130.2 billion dollars fortune, trust me. That U.S. dollars not Zimbabwean, okay?)

So, rest assured, I will follow up every hour to nag them about the issue.  If that doesn’t work, I will demand a call from Jeff Bezos, so I can complain to the man himself. Once again, my sincere apology for Goliath’s incompetence. But, hey, it’s not my fault!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Embers of Temptation is book 10, in the Girl on Fire Series. Read The Other Woman (an epic and jaw-dropping collision between a betrayed wife and a cunning seductress),  which is available on #KindleUnlimited, Please read before you read this book. 
Fans of Girl on the Train and Gone Girl, The Affair,  will love Eve Rabi’s tale of love, lust and revenge.
#RomanticCrime #RomanticSuspense #StoriesofRevenge #VigilanteJustice #FreeonKindleUnlimited #LoveTriangles#TheOtherWoman

Embers of Temptation by Eve Rabi (Book release) Girl on Fire Series

 

Blog image 4 wordpressEmbers of Temptation 20 May 2018

Book 10 in The Girl on Fire Series

Unfortunately, the story, after 9 books in the series, cannot be completed with just one more book. After much thought, we realised that the number of loose ends in the series would leave our readers with many unanswered questions.

So, it is with this in mind, that we are releasing FOUR more books in this series, all to be released within the next ninety days.
We are working hard so that you don’t have to wait longer than necessary, which means the books may be released sooner.  (More info on these upcoming books will be released shortly.
In the meantime, please enjoy the next instalment in the Girl on Fire Series, Embers of Temptation, now available on Amazon.

Here are the links to this Amazon book:

Follow this blog to avoid missing out on the next excerpt. You want to keep up with Scarlett’s underhandedness, believe me!

This is one of the books in the Girl on Fire Series. Read The Other Woman (an epic and jaw-dropping collision between a betrayed wife and a cunning seductress),  which is available on #KindleUnlimited, Please read before you read this book. 
Fans of Girl on the Train and Gone Girl, The Affair,  will love Eve Rabi’s tale of love, lust and revenge.
#RomanticCrime #RomanticSuspense #StoriesofRevenge #VigilanteJustice #FreeonKindleUnlimited #LoveTriangles#TheOtherWoman

cover the other woman August 2017 MEDIUM.jpg

Wordpress promo banner the other woman 18 dec 17 Eve Rabi

 

 

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