Category Archives: racial discrimination
When Good People are Forced into Doing Really Bad Things!
Excerpt From PAYBACK
“To keep the peace, I did everything an abused woman does – I ensured our mansion was covered in eggshells, tiptoed around Tom, said the right things, did the right things, wore the right things – anything to keep him from exploding.
It took its toll on me. Day by day, I became really unsure of myself, had an opinion about nothing (because I was a nothing – Tom had repeatedly told me that), and existed under a cloak of shame. Shame that I was the kind of woman who allowed a man to abuse me, then keep his dirty secret from our friends and from the world. Shame that I wasn’t strong enough to tell on him, call the cops, lock him up.
My self-confidence … well, I was fat, unattractive, stupid, and worthless – Tom had repeatedly told me that too, drilled it into my ‘thick’ head, remember? I believed him.
Yet, at times, I would look in the mirror and ask, “Who are you? What happened to that bubbly girl named Arena? The once who loved to dance and laugh out loud?” I never got an answer from the stranger in the mirror.
As for sex – I hated it. If I never had sex again in my whole life, I would be the happiest woman alive, I concluded. Just about every woman I knew would hate it if their husband had an affair, a mistress. Not me. I prayed that he’d find someone, have a torrid sexual affair so that he could leave me alone.
Yet, even though it was easier to stay with Tom and keep up the charade, allow myself to get used to the abuse, suck it up, I often thought about leaving him. I just couldn’t get the thought out of my mind.
I realized that if he divorced me, he would have to give me half of everything. Then I remembered the prenup I had signed. My husband was a millionaire, but I would see not a penny of his money. He would make sure of that.
My future seemed grey, cloudy, and those feelings of hopelessness compounded and sapped away all my energy.
Then, one day, while I was cooking, Warren was nearby watching a television commercial for pasta. In the commercial, the father arrives home and says, “Imma home!” His three children rush to jump into the father’s arms. The wife follows. Group hug. A happy, sappy family, thanks to pasta.
“Mom,” Warren said, his eyes fixed on the television.
“Yes, honey?”
“Do daddies really hug their children like that?”
I stopped what I was doing and looked at my son. Tom had never hugged Warren. In fact, he barely acknowledged our son, and when he did talk to him, it was to scold him about something or berate him for being too soft, a sissy. It was as if he despised our son.
“Look…” Warren pointed at the television.
Tears filled my eyes as I watched my son rewind the commercial and watch the children dived into their father’s arms. “See that, mom? See that?”
It was the saddest moment of my life. I scooped up my son and held him tightly to my breast as fat tears rolled down my cheeks and spilled onto his little head. That was the moment that broke me. That was also the moment that I decided, come what may, I was going to leave Tom. He did not deserve me or Warren.
It may have been the saddest moment in my life, but once I made a decision to leave Tom, I felt so much relief, that it also became the most energizing moment in my life.
I was going to leave Tom and be free. Free! What a delightful word. With my son in my arms, I whirled around the room, laughing.
“Mom … ?”
“We’re free, Warren!” I said, speaking in the present tense. “We’re free, baby!”
He tilted his head at me, almost as if he understood what I was saying.
“Promise?”
I gave a giant nod. “Promise!”
He gave me such a beautiful smile, I stopped whirling around to deal with a fresh batch of scalding tears.
Money – I would need money to escape. Cash to be more specific. Cash would be vital for our survival, especially in the first few days of my leaving him, I knew that much. But, where do I get the money from? That was a problem. I wasn’t gainfully employed, Tom did not allow me to have cash, just credit cards, which he monitored. Yes, ‘allow’ is the word. Tom had engineered my life in such a way, that I was totally reliant on him. Totally – I couldn’t make a move without him finding out.
So, after many hours of racking my brain, desperate as it was, I came up with a plan. I would siphon money from housekeeping – my grocery bill. That was the only plan I could come up with. Luckily, Tom never questioned my spending when it came to purchasing stuff for our home, so it was an avenue. The more I thought about it, the more convinced I was that I could pull it off.
However, I would have to be careful though, because Tom lived in a state of paranoia when it came to me. I do believe that he expected me to leave him someday and that terrified him. Hence the monitoring. Also, he was smart, shrewd and could smell a rodent a mile away.
Through some creative moves, over the months, I managed to siphon quite a bit of money. I bought stuff I didn’t need, returned them to the store for a cash exchange, different stores to avoid suspicion, then put the money in my ‘Freedom Jar’. Each time I looked at it, excitement bubbled inside of me. My freedom was within reach. Our freedom was within reach. With each day, hope sparkled inside of me and my once trampled spirits began to climb like Jack’s beanstalk. Soon!
Of course, it was imperative that Tom not discover my stash – that would be an absolute disaster. So, I hid my Freedom jar in Warren’s bedroom, under a mountain of stuffed toys, because Tom had seldom entered Warren’s bedroom.
My calculations told me that my jar contained more than ten thousand dollars, which was enough to tide me over the first couple of months after leaving Tom, while I made more permanent plans, and sought financial assistance from the government. Remember, the government would only assist me and my son after I left Tom. Every time I looked at my Freedom jar, I felt like singing. I would smile, kiss the jar, and perform a little jig to my son’s delight.
Quietly, I went on to make enquiries about places to rent. They were nothing like the mansion that I lived in, but I did not care – I was prepared to live in a stable if it meant freedom from my abuser. I shortlisted a couple of places, then applied for a few. Everything was falling into place and my freedom – I could smell it! It smelt like summer rain.
Soon!
Then, one day, I returned home from shopping to find tom seated at the dining table, the money from my Freedom jar spread out in front of him.
My knees started to buckle, beads of sweat formed on my forehead and I tasted my breakfast again.
How?
He would have had to have really searched to have found the jar. Why? Why did he feel the need to search? What tipped him off? Me? My actions? My behavior?
Maybe that sparkle wasn’t only inside of me, maybe it was also in my eyes? How could I have allowed that to happen?
“What is this?” His tone of voice was low, measured, the kind that usually preceded a balled fist.
Despite my horror, I was ready for him, having rehearsed my answer to that question time and time again in front of the mirror. How could I not anticipate such an encounter, such a question? I had my answer ready.
What I hadn’t counted on, was the terror I would feel when that loaded question was posed to me. Neither did my voice; it just gave me away. “I … j…j…just teach …ing Warren how to s…s…save mon …ey.” Trying to sound casual with a strangled voice was an epic fail.
Tom stared at me. Just stared without a word.
I began to move around the kitchen, putting groceries away – anything to avoid those eyes, now slits, following my every move.
He began to tap impatiently at the table with his fingernails, his taps growing louder and menacing, causing my shoulders to rise up to my ears.
“There’s over eleven thousand dollars here.”
I stopped what I was doing, forced myself to turn around and meet his eyes. “Huh?”
“I counted.”
He counted. Deep breaths! Deep breaths!
“W … wah … well …” I cleared my throat several times, feeling like I had swallowed chalk. “I told Warren that if we … we save over ten thousand dollars, and if he did … didn’t nag me for t …toys all the time, we would surprise Daddy and b…buy tickets to Disneyland.” There! I got it all out. What a dumb reason for hiding a jar from my husband. Still, it was a response.
I rewarded myself with a glass of thrice-filtered water.
Tom pushed back his chair, jerked to his feet, strode purposefully up to me, stood right in front of me and stared down at me.
Deep … breaths. Deep …
He eventually reached for the glass, took it out of my hand and placed it on the table. After which, he grabbed a handful of my hair, wound it slowly around his fingers, pulled me close, so close, his breath fanned my face. My heartbeat gonged in my ears, and I was certain he could hear it.
The corners of his lips curled ever so slightly. “Disneyland or … you … planning to run off?”
“W … wha …?”
Using his free hand, and with his eyes boring into mine, he walked two fingers in the air, taunting, toying.
I blinked rapidly, as I braced for that slap, that backhand, or to be slammed into something. You know, the usual.
For a few moments, his eyes roamed all over my crimson face, his lips still curled at the corners, as if he was enjoying the sound of my thundering heartbeat, having immense fun pulling off the wings of a butterfly.
Then suddenly, to my surprise, he released me and stepped back. I stood frozen, unable to move. What now?
He walked over to the table, scooped all the money into the jar, along with my hopes, my dreams of freedom. “I’ll put it in the bank,” he muttered, “It’s safer there. ‘Sides, it’s not enough for first-class tickets.”
What could I say? What could I do? All months of planning, all my hopes and dreams crushed. I had told my son that we were free. Spoke to him in the present tense, promised him in the present tense, remember?
I had misled him, promised him something I had no business promising. I was such a failure. Useless.
I wanted to cry. Sob, fall to the floor and howl like a disappointed, deranged woman.
I didn’t. Tears were a luxury for the free. I wasn’t free. I was a prisoner in a gilded cage.
You know that scene in The Lion King, where Scar rules Pride Rock, which is overrun by hyenas? That grim scene where the female lions sit whispering, depressed and without hope? No Mufasa, no one to rescue them?
My life began to feel like that – depressed, discouraged and without hope, with Scar watching my every move, waiting to pounce.”
Excerpt from Payback by Eve Rabi, a FREE romantic crime read.
……………………………………………………..
Synopsis of PAYBACK
When Arena escapes Tom, her abusive and vengeful husband, he vows to make her pay.
Luckily, she finds love in the arms of a wonderful man called Bear Shaw, and undercover cop. Bear is loving, generous and adores both her kids. He keeps them safe and they become a family.
Then, while Bear is away on assignment, Arena’s SUV is stolen with her sleeping toddler in it.
Arena is sure it’s Tom behind the theft. The police disagree – Tom was abroad when the theft occurred. Arena doesn’t believe it – she insists it is Tom.
When the police look to question Bear, they cannot find him. According to them, Bear Shaw does not exist.
Arena’s whole world begins to tilt. Who does she believe? Who does she trust? Had Tom sent Bear to destroy her?
………………………………………..
FREE for a limited time!
#RomanticCrimeThrillers #Books #EveRabiAuthor #FREE Online #Ebooks #SuspenseNovels #FreeBooks
To read more from PAYBACK, which is FREE for a limited time, click on this Amazon link:
That One Time My Brother Cheated on His Wife.
When I was around fifteen, my married brother, Drake, who was years older than me, had an affair with a work colleague.
When I spied the other woman from a distance, I lost hope – that chick resembled Pamela Anderson. When she does her own hair and make-up. That Pamela, she drank bottles and bottles of beer and chain-smoked, using a shiny cigarette holder (I thought the cigarette holder was so damn classy, I wanted one even though I did not smoke).
As I studied the other woman, I concluded with dismay, that my sister in law Cheryl, stood not a chance against the blonde bombshell. Compared with Pamela, Cheryl was plain. Plain, but nice with a nurturing nature. (I like her, hence the alliteration.)
Now Drake, my cheating-ass bro, he was a tall, green-eyed dude who had slept his way around the neighborhood prior to getting hitched. Prior. Maybe it had something to do with those tattoos of skulls on his arms and his awesome tan.
Luckily, once married, Drake had morphed into a caring family man and stopped fucking around. Growing up in a family of turmoil, Drake was my father-figure and protector. He still is and I love him dearly. (It’s the kind of love that brings tears to one’s eyes as you write about it. Ever had that?)
Since we all lived in a big, overcrowded family home (I was one of seven children – that’s right, a child for every day of the week), I was privy to the arguments between Cheryl and Drake, which I eavesdropped on. (We didn’t have Tik Tok then, so we drew entertainment from wherever we could.)
Prior to the affair, Cheryl and Drake had a great relationship, and I had always taken comfort in their solid marriage. So, when Drake had the affair, I was crushed. I felt so betrayed by my brother’s behavior, my fifteen-year-old hurt self urged my sister-in-law to leave his cheating ass.
She didn’t leave him, which made me lose a bit of respect for her.
Nevertheless, I hung around my hurt sister-in-law, trying to find ways to comfort her. For the first time I can remember, I actually helped her with household chores, mainly because she was OCD about cleanliness, and I was anything but.
I figured the best way to comfort Cheryl was to help her clean up the house and make her endless cups of tea with sugar, which she never said no to.
One day while peeling potatoes, the conversation between my sister-in-law and myself went like this:
Me: “Leave him! He’s a bloody cheat! Leave him, Cheryl.”
Cheryl: “Peel a little thinner; you’re peeling too thick, Eve.”
Me: “He’s a bloody cheat!”
Silence.
Me: “Why do you want to stay with a dog like that?” (Yeah, I called my beloved bro a dog. But it was a Golden Retriever, not a Rottweiler.)
Cheryl: “Eve, when you have a good man, other women want him because he’s good. All the things you found attractive in him, those women are also attracted to, and that’s why they want him. He may fight them off for a while, but sometimes temptation gets to him. You must understand that.”
Me: “Mm. Is this enough, or must I peel more?”
Cheryl: “You can’t just give up on your marriage. Two more, but peel thinner. Sometimes the affair dies off and then he realizes that the fun part is over and he returns to the marriage. Yes, thin like that! Drake is worth fighting for, you know. So … I’ll fight for him. I must have patience.”
Patience, my ass!
Me: “You want a cup of tea?”
Cheryl: “Yes, please, Eve.”
See what I mean – Cheryl never said no to tea.
I worried about the ‘fighting’ bit, though. Not only did I believe that Cheryl didn’t stand a chance against the striking blonde, but I also wasn’t sure about Cheryl’s pow! wow! skills. I believed that the blonde would win in both instances. Not sure why, but I believed that.
I was however, determined to stand by Cheryl and beat the crap out of the other woman, if need be. I was the type to insert myself into a fight, mainly to separate. Except when someone was fighting with one of my siblings; then I would band with my sibling and kick the crap out of the person. Or try to. I was from the hood, so I knew a thing or two about fighting, having had my fair share of punch-ons, my fair share of fight clubs.
So, I braced myself for the rumble, to scratch out her blue eyes (if need be, because they were so pretty), pull at her long blonde mane (if need be because it was so glorious) and to steal her cigarette holder (even though I didn’t smoke, I would feel cool).
And if my cheating-ass bro got in the way, much as I loved him, he’d cop a blow or two as well, because he would deserve it. Maybe sixteen or seventeen blows, so he’d better stay the fuck out of it, just be an observer to the rumble. As if he was a guest on Springer, not a participant.
But … the fight didn’t take place. I cannot remember why it didn’t.
For a couple of weeks, Drake was AWOL and Cheryl went to bed alone, long after everyone in the family went to bed.
Our family rallied around Cheryl, trying to comfort her, the air around us thick with uncertainty and disappointment. Except for my mother – I did not see her comfort Cheryl at all. I think she didn’t care too much for Cheryl because … well, maybe it was because Cheryl cooked and cleaned for our family, washed our clothing, shopped, took care of her husband’s younger sisters and did everything a mother would for the family, while my mother did nothing. Maybe that was the reason my mother resented her daughter-in-law. But, since Cheryl was my surrogate mother, I loved her enough to punch out the lights of the other woman.
Late one night, I heard my brother’s Ford (a bottle green one with a noisy exhaust) pull up into our yard. I got up from my bed and peeped through the window. Drake had parked the car, but he hadn’t alighted from the vehicle.
I waited.
Almost half an hour passed, and he remained in the car.
What the hell?
Then, through the window, I watched Cheryl stride up to the car. I was sure she had a brick in her hand. I expected her to, because that’s what I would have had in my hand – two bricks, one for backup and because I believed in spares and pairs.
Anyho, I got scared and then excited – fight! fight! fight!
I braced myself for Cheryl to lose her shit, to slam the brick through the car window, to smash it against my cheating brother’s head, for him to burn rubber as he raced away from the scorned wife, blood dripping down his head.
I further mentally prepared to race downstairs and separate the scorned wife from the cheating Golden Retriever if there was a physical altercation. I even braced myself to cop a few blows in the process. I would take them for Cheryl, but I prayed they would not come from the brick for as much as I loved my sister-in-law, I loved my body, my skull too, and a brick was a brick and ouch!
Although, I didn’t want Drake’s skull to get crushed, because he was the kind of guy who, as a teenager used his pay on essentials for the family like a clothes iron and kettle. He was that kind of boy. Sweet. Caring.
What I saw next confused me. I watched my sister-in-law open the car door, take Drake’s hand and lead him out of the car. She hugged him, dried his tears with her hands, then led him into the house.
Then there was silence. Oh, I did eavesdrop, but I heard zilch. Bemused, I took my tired self to bed, where I slept with one eye open, just in case.
After that, Cheryl and Drake lived happily ever after.
No seriously – Pamela and her cigarette holder fucked off, Cheryl and Drake went on to have another beautiful daughter, and we all lived happily ever after in our overcrowded home.
I kept a keen eye on the Golden Retriever after that, brick in sight, waiting for him to slip up and return to his errant ways. But, Drake was so good to Cheryl after that, so attentive and such an amazing husband, Cheryl became the envy of all the women around, including those who Drake whored around with in the neighbourhood.
Not only that, but Drake was an amazing dad to their two children, and they love him the way I love him. I wanted to marry a man just like Drake, so that I could have their marriage.
Recently, I visited Cheryl and Drake, and during one of our long walks down memory lane, Cheryl coughed twice. Just twice. Drake immediately got up and fetched her a glass of water. She hadn’t even asked him for water. Good doggie, right? I thought how lucky Cheryl was to be married to an attentive man like Drake. I thought how glad I was that she did not take my advice during our potato-peeling session and leave.
They recently celebrated their 40th wedding anniversary, which I was unable to attend as we live in different countries.
So, the moral of the story? The reason I air my family’s dirty laundry? (Some of it, I have tons, believe me).
Well, no reason, really. I just wanted to share with you what my wise sister-in-law told me years ago.
Have I ever used that advice?
No.
Why?
Because my ego is too fucking big!
Look, people are quick to say, “Walk away! No man is worth fighting for.” Yeah, they may be right.
However, if your man is abusive, I would tell you to pick up two bricks. I’m kidding (I’m from the hood, remember?) No, I would tell you to leave in a heartbeat.
If a man wasn’t attentive or if your marriage needs resuscitation, I’d advise you to talk to him about it. Several times. Handcuff the motherfucker to a chair and force him to listen.
If he doesn’t listen, or consider your feelings, I’d ask you to ditch him. Simple.
Or stay married to him, but have an extramarital affair with the pool boy with an out of control libido. Simple.
What? Like you’ve never fantasized about it?
Over the years I’ve had lots of women tell me off, when I suggested not being too quick to leave their cheating significant other. And that’s okay, I get it. But, what if he’s worth fighting for? What if you could survive this blimp on the road to your fortieth wedding anniversary? Mm?
Food for thought? (post updated for correction – it should read fortieth not fiftieth.
End of Blog
…………………………………………….
Anyway, since we’re on the subject of whoring around, have you read The Other Woman by Eve Rabi (that’s me, BTW).
You haven’t? OMG!!! Why not? You’re missing on a mother of a rumble, believe me!
Check it out here:
Question: A seductress steals your husband, rips apart your family and shatters your dreams.
You:
a) Wish them luck, and walk away with your head held high (because that’s what society expects you to do)?
b) Quietly seethe, but accept that there is just nothing you can do about it (because it easier for everyone if you do nothing)?
c) Dig up dirt on the b**tch (because someone like this would undoubtedly have dirt), use it to sabotage their relationship, then sit back with a glass of Pinot Grigio and watch them buuuuurn!?
Answer: C. Totally C. Oh, God, C!
The Other Woman $0.99c for a limited time!
A mild-mannered wife awakes one day to find that she has been replaced by a cunning seductress. Helplessly, she watches the other woman help herself to her husband, her children and her life. Then one day, she snaps. With nothing to lose, she sets out to fight, win back her family, take back all that is hers.
Her techniques are dirty and underhanded, causing untold misery to her nemeses, rocking the foundations of her ex-husband’s new marriage.
Trouble is, the other woman does not believe in losing, has no intention of backing down and is an even dirtier fighter. The result? A scandalous collision between the wife and the mistress, where mayhem and murder follow.
********
If you’ve enjoyed Gone Girl, Girl on the Train, HBO’s The Affair and Fatal Attraction, you will enjoy this fast-paced, action-packed romantic suspense thriller about lust, betrayal, revenge, and somewhere along the line, steamy romance.
$0.99 cents for a limited time!
To read more from The Other Woman click on this link:
How to Resist Forbidden Love – Foolproof Ways to Forget About him and Move on.
- First, make a firm decision: I will tame this heart of mine, I will conquer it, I will forget about him! Tell yourself of your decision in a bold, determined voice.
- Focus on the harmful and negative outcome should you pursue this love – the consequences, which are often dire. Forbidden love is usually forbidden for a reason. A good reason. Trust me on this, I’m an expert.
- Resist from remembering how your heart races at the mention of his name and how your cheeks flame, how your eyes sparkle at the mere thought of him and how alive he makes you feel and how … look, forget all of that absurd stuff – stow those thoughts in the attic of your mind, okay?
- Out of sight, out of mind – distance between you and him will help dull the ache and constant longing, so, move house, move cities, move countries if need be. Yes, I’m asking you to run! Trust me on this, I’m an expert.
- Draw a line down the centre of a page and list all the pros on one side, and the cons on the other side of the forbidden love in question. You will undoubtedly prove to yourself, because you only really have to prove this to yourself that there are more cons than pros if you were to continue to hanker after said love.
- Talk to yourself often about your decision to walk away from him, three, four, five times a day. Brainwash yourself even, because, hey, drastic situations call for drastic measures. Trust me on this, I’m an expert.
- Substitute forbidden love with sensible, practical love, one who is good for you and then stick really close to him. Do not hesitate to use that sensible love as a crutch until your heart is fully tamed.
The above measures are foolproof, so they should work.
Well, the above measures aren’t quite foolproof, but they usually work.
Maybe not usually, but they work. Sometimes.
Well, sometimes would be an exaggeration and … look, remember when I stated that I was an expert and that you should trust me? Mm?
Well, I may told you a white lie. Like, a couple of white lies. Like, a ship-load of them. I’m no expert.
What? It’s no big deal. It’s what everyone does when it comes to love, because who the hell is an expert on love? Huh? No one!
So, if the above measures don’t work, then all you can do is give in to temptation, okay? Give in to that intoxicating, exhilarating love, because that heart of yours, let me tell you, it wants what it wants and denying it will leave you in a permanent, What If? state.
Anyway, as they warn, forbidden fruit is the sweetest, fools fall in love, love makes no sense, love is blind… blah! blah! blah! So, why fight it?
(From Sworn Enemies, Secret Lovers, (An angsty tale of forbidden love) by Eve Rabi)
Excerpt From Sworn Enemies, Secret Lovers ( An angsty tale of forbidden Love)
“I’m ashamed of my need to be held by him. I guess … well, I guess it’s been a while since I felt a man’s arms around me. Warmth, affection, tenderness – I crave them now and he’s offering all of that. I know, I know, I should move away, end it right now before things spiral out of control, but I don’t. I guess, I like lying in Reed’s warm arms, my back nestled against his broad accommodating chest, the faint whiff of tobacco mingled with his familiar aftershave soothing and comforting my sleepy self.
As our breathing synchronizes, Reed’s hand moves to capture mine. Here again, I think about pulling my hand away, a feeble and somewhat ridiculous attempt to stop him, considering I’m in his arms, but I don’t, I just let him.
His fingers entwines in mine. You can tell by the contented sigh escaping my lips that I like it. Judging by the way he squeezes my fingers, I suspect he likes it just as much.
Snug in a tender, but illicit embrace, we doze.
When I wake up in the middle of the night and find myself in Reed’s arm, reality sinks her teeth in me – You’re married, he’s off limits, what the hell are you doing? He’s the frigging enemy for crying out loud! The enemy!
The bite is so sharp, I slowly, to avoid waking him, ease out of his arms and tiptoe away. From the other side of the room, I sit and watch him, longing for his embrace despite it being profoundly wrong, hypnotized by the rise and fall of his broad chest as he sleeps.
Minutes pass, before he opens his eyes and looks at me, sitting with my arms wrapped around myself. For a while, he just stares, before he eventually gives me a tiny nod of understanding.
Okay, he gets it. Okay. Makes it easier for me to resist. Okay.
Then … he opens his arms to me.
I frown at him.
He opens his arms wider.
As I glare, then stare at his inviting arms, I 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. Use a light-hearted voice and add a smile for good measure. No hard feelings, okay?
I do nothing of that sort. Instead, I find myself floating over to him and melting into his embrace. This time, he turns me around to face him. Embarrassed by my neediness, I rest my forehead against his chest, avoiding his eyes.
With a chuckle, he tightens his arms around me and kisses my forehead several times.
“Don’t ever leave me again,” he whispers.
The way he hugs me, the way he kisses my hair, the contented sighs he gives as he draws me closer, tells me he wants this as much as I do. Makes me believe that he, well, needs me. My husband has never needed me, never held me that way. Not that way. Not once. I’d remember if he did.
We fall asleep entwined in each other, despite knowing the consequences we face.”
End of adapted excerpt from Sworn Enemies, Secret Lovers
To read more on this emotional tale of forbidden love, which is priced at just $0.99c for a limited time, click on this Amazon link below:
Other books by Eve Rabi
You love him? Oh, please! We’re talking five years in prison! Get real, okay?
“Your love is a crime,” the law says and throws you both behind bars.
You:
a) Tell the truth and spend 5 years behind bars for love?
b) Lie like hell – claim that you’ve never seen before, that he took you
against your will, yes, throw him under the bus without a second thought
and secure your freedom within minutes?
Which will it be?
What? You love him? He’s your soul mate? Yeah, yeah, yeah, but
we’re talking serious prison time for you here, so get real now. What
will it be?
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
A heartbreaking, fast-paced romantic suspense tale of love, betrayal
and unrequited love.
$0.99 cents for a limited time
Also available on #Kindle #Unlimited!
EXCERPT FROM COLOR BLIND
“My low spirits, self-loathing continued for the remainder of the day. When
I wasn’t crying, I was close to it. At the dinner table that night, I barely
touched my food. I stole glances at my father. He appeared unperturbed,
swirling his glass of red wine, as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t
caused Miss Annabel to run off.
“This apricot lamb is very lekker,” he said.
Shut up! I hope you choke on it!
“Dankie,” my mother said.
“As if you cooked it!” I said.
My mother jerked her neck to look at me, her eyebrows raised.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Katrina shake her head, silently urging
me to shut up before I got bashed by my mother.
“Ja, what’s your problem?” my mother asked. I do believe she was surprised
that I was being openly mouthy.
I didn’t answer, I just pushed my food around in my plate.
“Ay?” She pressed on, not drunk enough or she’d have ignored my … well,
she would have ignored everything I said. “Why your face like a horse?” She
took a sip of her drink. “Ay?”
“Miss Annabel left, today,” I said. At the mention of Miss Annabel’s name,
my voice grew watery.
She took a sip of her wine. “So? For how long?”
“For good. Forever. She’s never coming back. Ever!”
“Why?” My mother seemed genuinely surprised.
“Why, because, ma, she does not want to teach me anymore!”
My mother jerked back in her chair. “Ay? Ding! Dong! is gone forever?
That stick-in-her-arse woman left?” She chuckled at her joke. “Why?
What you do, Sarie?”
“Me? I didn’t do anything,” I said in a voice filled with icy control.
She giggled over her glass. That caused my anger to accelerate. I glared
at her. How dare you laugh when I have lost my beloved Miss Annabel?
Why can’t you see my pain? You’re an adult, my mother, you should see it!
Why aren’t you seeing my pain, mother? Why the hell are you laughing,
you drunk!
“Sarie, eat up so you can get your ice cream,” Katrina said from the
kitchen, in a voice imbued with warning.
My eyes shifted to Katrina. She shook her head, urging me to shut up. My
eyes shifted back to my mother’s – she was still laughing. I knew exactly
how to wipe that smile off her face, and I did. “You should ask Pa; he took
Miss Annabel into his study when you wasn’t around and they had a … a
long chat. After that she was crying, then she left, because she said she
couldn’t take it anymore. He used to see her often in the study. But only
when you were away, ma. He used to touch her face and ask her to call him
Schoeman. I think he like her more than Popsicle Laurika, Ma. First Miss
Annabel, then Popsicle Laurika, then the maids, then you. Actually, I don’t
think he like you anymore, Ma.”
Even I was surprised at my blatant bitchiness. Hurt and anger had brought out the little bitch in me. My passive aggressiveness sure wiped the grin off my mother’s face. She stared at me with huge eyes, glass mid-air, mouth open. I held her gaze, a slight smirk on my lips. That’s right, he’s been seeing all those women. Your little daughter knows it. Everyone knows it. Everyone knows that Magda is not enough for her husband. Don’t think you are. Whose laughing now, huh?
My mother swung her head to look at my pa who was sitting with his eyes now fixed on his honey, apricot lamb, appearing outwardly calm. His white knuckles around his wineglass told another story.
“Schoe … man …”
My father kept his eyes on his plate, but I noted with satisfaction that his body had turned rigid with fear.
“Schoe … man …”
He tried to shrug off what I was saying, but fear caused his shrug to present like a fearful twitch. After a murderous look my way, my father looked at his plate again.
Taking on Schoeman Vorster was akin to a suicide mission, daughter or no daughter. I knew that, but at that moment, I didn’t care; I wanted a fight, a chaotic brawl, something that could give me an excuse to scream, cry and punch and kick back, hurt someone, something, anything! I wanted an excuse to weep loudly and release some of the pent-up hurt I was experiencing over the loss of my beloved Miss Annabel. I was grieving and I had gone straight into the anger phase.
I sat back and waited for … whatever! I just waited for the outcome. So far, they hadn’t sent me back to my room, so I was excited at the prospect of witnessing a fight. From the corner of my eye, I saw Katrina in the background, signalling desperately for my attention. I looked at her. With her eyes bulging, she patted her lips vigorously – Shut up Sarie before you get it!
She was right, I would get it for sure. But, I didn’t care. They could beat me, I just didn’t care. The pain from a physical beating would be less than the emotional pain I felt. I ignored my keeper and focused on the impending explosion. There had to be one – Magda Vorster hated the idea of not being the only woman in her man’s husband’s life. Being as beautiful as she was, meant that she should be, because looks alone is what satisfies a man. Well, that’s what her pea-brain believed.
There’d be hell to pay if the man who was supposed to adore and cherish her was adoring and cherishing another, one with no plastic crown to prove that she was the fairest in the land. She had turned a blind eye to popsicle-loving Laurika, because she had no choice but to, but this was too much.
The room went quiet. I was disappointed – no explosion? How could that be? Please God, let there be an explosion.
I think, for the first time in my life, my prayers, even though I had become an atheist, came true.
With a snarl, my mother jerked to her feet, lifting up the table at the same time, toppling it, sending crockery and cutlery and crystal glasses and honey apricot lamb and red wine flying. Mad Magda was in the room!
“Magda! What the … FOK!” Pastor Schoeman bellowed.
Mad Magda responded by grabbing a steak knife from the floor and plunging it into my father’s shoulder.
“Yes!” I cried out loud, thrilled at the way things were going. I had gotten more than I bargained for, to my delight. To my horror too.
My father screamed and fell forward, while I jumped back, out of harm’s way. If only his congregation could see this now, I thought, before, I panicked – what if she killed him?
This was more than I expected. She was going to kill him. Okay, then!
I realized very quickly that I didn’t mind her killing him. It would save me the trouble. Would they kill each other? I realized very quickly that that would be okay too.
Sadly, my mother did not kill my father, because he recovered, lunged at her, grabbed the knife out of her hand and flung it across the room in Katrina’s direction. I heard Katrina scream and duck just in time.
He grabbed my mother’s flailing arms and pinned her to the wall. “Are you foking mull?”
That to me was a rhetorical question, but my mother answered anyway. “Ek is nou!” (I am now!) and clawed at my father’s face, drawing streaks of blood. She was way smaller than him, but she was like a china cracker, compact, loud and dangerous, and the pastor could hardly restrain her. Finally, he punched her several times, managed to partially subdue her, grabbed her by the hair, dragged her kicking and screaming all the way into the bedroom and shut the door.
I stood with a trembling Katrina outside the closed bedroom door and listened to the screaming and shouting and loud thuds.
“You better hide,” Katrina whispered in a panicked voice, pointing at some heavy drapes. “Your pa is coming for you next.”
I knew that, so I bolted downstairs and hid behind the drapes.
Minutes later, I heard the thudding of my father’s footsteps, his heavy breathing, then, “SARIEEE!”
I held my breath, trembling with fear – I was probably in for the disciplining of my life – at the same time, exhilarated at having been able to rattle him. He deserved to be rattled – my mother deserved to be rattled, the whole world deserved to be rattled, because I had lost one of the most life-altering people in the universe – my precious Miss Annabel because of my parents. Yes, my mother was also to blame for my loss. She dared make fun and laugh at Miss Annabel? Miss Ding! Dong!? Really? Who’s laughing now?
“SARIE!” The varying tempo of my father’s voice told me he was searching room to room for me.
Then, I heard him feet away from me. “Where the fok is she?”
“Gone to her mother’s room,” I heard Katrina lie. “I think.”
That was a good answer, because silence followed.
Curious, I peeped at him from behind the curtain. There he was, staring at the closed bedroom door, his shirt blood-stained from the shoulder wound, his chest heaving, the bloodied lines on his face causing him to look like he had lost a fight to a dozen feral cats.
“Careful,” Katrina said. “Mevrou got a corkscrew thingi.”
His hand flew to his neck, probably because the woman he called his wife and others called Mad Magda was capable of plunging the corkscrew into his jugular. After mumbling angrily, he took his car keys and almost ran out of the house. At the sound of screeching tyres, I came out of hiding and walked over to my mother’s bedroom and put my ear to the door and listened. It was quiet. I opened the door and peeped inside. My mother lay on the floor in a tangled mess – my father had knocked her out.
I should have checked up on my mother, called an ambulance even, but I didn’t, because I guess I didn’t care enough, and I hurt too much. Which was a sad thing for everyone, because every single person on Earth should love their mother more than anyone else in the world. My guess is that I had come into this world loving my mother. However, bit by bit, her behavior over time, had eroded that love and eventually, caused my love for her, for my mother, the woman who brought me into the world to dissolve completely. How could such a thing not be painfully sad? It was more than sad, it was tragic.”
To read more, please click the following link:
MY BROTHER, MY RIVAL – Angsty, drama-filled Romantic Suspense
We warned her, “Don’t fall for Cody, he’s a player, he’ll break your heart. Guaranteed. Ignore that chiseled six-pack of his, those rugged looks, that melting grin – all of it, and go for his brother, Scott, instead. Scott, now there’s a gentleman, intelligent, kind, shy, and just as good looking as Cody. Really, he is. The kind of man who won’t break your heart. Husband material.”
Did Bridie listen? Nope. And where did it get her? A broken heart – that’s what she got. As expected. Of course, none of us said, I told you so. We wanted to, but we didn’t. Why? Because we were young and dumb once.
Anyway, life has a way of screwing things up, as you know, and in this case, it did. In a big way. Huge, I tell you. Cody, Bridie and Scott were quickly thrust headlong into a heartbreaking love triangle that destroyed the brother’s relationship, ripped apart their family and left them drowning in heartbreak. Sad.
It didn’t end there. Oh, no – years later, circumstances forced the trio to interact and even live together – that’s right, two of them were to live together!
Buried emotions surfaced, old wounds were picked at, and a tsunami of heartbreak followed.
And then? you ask.
Well, there are a lot of ‘And thens’, too many for me to list. So, my suggestion: make a giant pot of coffee, because you’re going to be reading this fast-paced romantic suspense thriller through the night. (Add whisky or rum or brandy to the pot if you need to.) Oh, and keep the tissues handy, because you’re going to cry. Ugly cry. Guaranteed. Like really ugly. Hey, we’re talking about two brothers and their hearts here – how can this story not be sad?
$0.99 for a limited time! Kindle Unlimited
EXCERPT
I was silent as I drove my family to dinner. They weren’t – they chatted away in high-pitched voices about … I have no idea what the fuck they chatted about, because my mind was reeling with the betrayal – my girl and my brother, my girl and my brother, my girl and my FUCKING BROTHER!
How could they do this to me? I loved her with every fiber of my being, and she would do this to me? What about him? He was my brother – I’d die for him in a heartbeat, he knew that, and he could do this to me? Why? How? When? Where? The fuck I knew. I just felt the urge to break something. In fact, my urge to destroy became so intense, I found myself turning my Hummer around.
“Wha … where you going?” my mother demanded.
I didn’t answer.
“I asked you a question,” she said, her voice filled with panic. “Where you going?”
My response was to hit the gas.
My dad sat upright in his seat, his neck turning wildly around, a look of fear on his face. “Son?”
I stared ahead at the road as I floored it.
“Bro, stop!” Jenna said. “I know where you’re going! You stop right now. This minute! Bro …”
Ignoring all their pleas, I gunned the Hummer toward Bridie’s old place. That’s where she’d be. She had to be there. She’d better be there.
I made it just in time – she was in the parking lot, about to get into my brother’s Roadster.
Okay.
I spotted him in the driver’s seat, talking on his phone.
I braked hard, and without killing the engine, hopped out of my Hummer.
Within seconds, my family was chasing after me in tandem, my sister behind me, my father behind her and my mother behind him, all chorusing for me to stop whatever I was about to do.
When Bridie saw me, she mouthed my name, her blue eyes filled with surprise at the sight of me.
With a mirthless smile, I picked up a brick from the side of the road and strode toward my brother.
When she saw me pick up the brick, it was Bridie’s turn to scream. “What are you doing with that brick? STOOOOP! What are you doing? STOOOP!”
I ignored her and stomped over to my brother. What did she think I was going to do with the brick, huh? Smash his skull with it until his brains decorated his beloved Roadster – that was the plan. Simple.
His window was opened. Good.
The first thing I did was boot his door several times. That caused the door to buckle and trap him inside the car. Exactly where I wanted him to be.
When he saw me above him, brick in hand, a manic look on my face, the phone slid out of his hand. Amidst the pleas of my family and the screams of woman who betrayed, I raised the brick.
His eyes grew large – the largest I’ve ever seen.
Through clenched teeth I said, “You and my girl, bro? Yeah? Well, guess what? Today you die! Bro.”
PRAISE FOR MY BROTHER, MY RIVAL
“Dishes didn’t get washed, supper didn’t get cooked, nothing got done. This book was like a drug; I had to know what happened.”
“It’s so hard to find a really good book these days. Every so often you find a jewel. My Brother, My Rival, is such a good read! You won’t want to put it down.”
“There are very few books that can make me cry. Ugly cry. I’m giving this a perfect 10.”
“If you have something to do during your day, DO NOT start reading this book! ’Cause once you start you won’t put it down!”
“I love love love this book so much. I’ve read it twice.”
“This book has been playing in my head all night. I dreamed about it, woke up thinking about it. Serious book hangover coming up. You will need tissues a few times in this book.”
“If I could give this book a 10, I would! It has everything. Brilliant! I’m a fan for life.”
“I could not go to sleep until I finished this book, then I woke up the next morning to reread it.”
“You will laugh, cry and yell with this book, you won’t be able to put it down once you start reading it! THIS IS A BOOK NOT TO BE MISSED!!”
“Fabulously realistic and colorful, the descriptions of people and events are great.”
“Brilliant story. Made me laugh and cry. Have recommended it to family and friends.”
$0.99 for a limited time! Kindle Unlimited
To read more of angsty and heartbreaking drama, click on the Amazon link below:
Color Blind – Heartbreaking romantic suspense about unrequited love – book 8 now available on Amazon!
Color Blind book 8 is now live on Amazon! Click on the image
above to download your copy!
Tell the truth and spend 5 years behind bars for love, or lie
that that you don’t know him and secure your freedom
within minutes?
What? You love him? He’s your soul mate? Yeah, yeah,
yeah, but hey, we’re talking
serious jail time for you here.
Which would you choose?
Be honest now.
0.99 cents for a limited time!
Avail on Kindle Unlimited
Praise for Color Blind:
“The style of writing this author uses is unique to every other
writer out there. The humour is funnier than comedy and the
horror is tear-jerking. I read this in less than a day.”“Read this book in one night! Great read and couldn’t put it down!”
‘Fast-paced, raw and entertaining with moments of unexpected
humor, this book will have you staying up late into the late.’
‘Clear your calendar this weekend – Eve Rabi has a new tale and
it’s kick**s as usual!’‘OMG, Eve! Just when I think your writing can’t get any better,
you surpass yourself! I am biting my nails, wondering what
will happen next!’
$0. 99 cents for a limited time,
so click on the images below to get your copies before the price increase.
Amazon U.S. links in the Color Blind Series (click on images below
for Amazon U.S.)
(click on imge for Amazon U.S.)
( click on image for Amazon U.S.)
(click on image for Amazon U.S.)
(click on image for Amazon U.S.)
(click on image for Amazon U.S.)
(click on image for Amazon U.S.)
.
(click on image for Amazon U.S.)
.
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
Amazon U.K. links (click on images below for
Amazon U.K.)
(click on image for Amazon U.K.)
(click on image for Amazon U.K.)
(click on image for Amazon U.K.)
(click on image for Amazon U.K.)
(click on image for Amazon U.K.)
(click on image for Amazon U.K.)
Color Blind – Heartbreaking romantic suspense about unrequited love – book 6 now available on Amazon!
Color Blind book 6 is now live on Amazon! Click on the image
above to download your copy!
Tell the truth and spend 5 years behind bars for love, or lie
that that you don’t know him and secure your freedom
within minutes?
What? You love him? He’s your soul mate? Yeah, yeah,
yeah, but hey, we’re talking
serious jail time for you here.
Which would you choose?
Be honest now.
0.99 cents for a limited time!
Avail on Kindle Unlimited
Praise for Color Blind:
“The style of writing this author uses is unique to every other
writer out there. The humour is funnier than comedy and the
horror is tear-jerking. I read this in less than a day.”“Read this book in one night! Great read and couldn’t put it down!”
‘Fast-paced, raw and entertaining with moments of unexpected
humor, this book will have you staying up late into the late.’
‘Clear your calendar this weekend – Eve Rabi has a new tale and
it’s kick**s as usual!’‘OMG, Eve! Just when I think your writing can’t get any better,
you surpass yourself! I am biting my nails, wondering what
will happen next!’
$0. 99 cents for a limited time,
so click on the images below to get your copies before the price increase.
Amazon U.S. links in the Color Blind Series (click on images below
for Amazon U.S.)
(click on image for Amazon U.S.)
(click on image for Amazon U.S.)
(click on image for Amazon U.S.)
(click on image for Amazon U.S.)
(click on image for Amazon U.S.)
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
Amazon U.K. links (click on images below for
Amazon U.K.)
(click on image for Amazon U.K.)
(click on image for Amazon U.K.)
(click on image for Amazon U.K.)
(click on image for Amazon U.K.)
(click on image for Amazon U.K.)
Five Color Blind Mice
Tell the truth and spend 5 years behind bars for love, or lie
that that you don’t know him and secure your freedom
within minutes?
What? You love him? He’s your soul mate? Yeah, yeah,
yeah, but hey, we’re talking
serious jail time for you here.
Which would you choose?
Be honest now.
0.99 cents for a limited time!
Avail on Kindle Unlimited
Praise for Color Blind:
‘Fast-paced, raw and entertaining with moments of unexpected
humor, this book will have you staying up late into the late.’
‘Clear your calendar this weekend – Eve Rabi has a new tale and
it’s kick**s as usual!’‘OMG, Eve! Just when I think your writing can’t get any better,
you surpass yourself! I am biting my nails, wondering what
will happen next!’
$0. 99 cents for a limited time,
so click on the images below to get your copies before the price increase.
Amazon U.S. links in the Color Blind Series (click on image below to take you to Amazon U.S.)
(click on image below to take you to Amazon U.S.)
(click on image below to take you to Amazon U.S.)
(click on image below to take you to Amazon U.S.)
(click on image below to take you to Amazon U.S.)
(click on image below to take you to Amazon U.S.)
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
Amazon U.K. links (click on image below to take you to Amazon U.K.)
(click on image below to take you to Amazon U.K.)
(click on image below to take you to Amazon U.K.)
(click on image below to take you to Amazon U.K.)
(click on image below to take you to Amazon U.K.)
(click on image below to take you to Amazon U.K.)
Color Blind – Heartbreaking romantic suspense book Release (book 3)
Tell the truth and spend 5 years behind bars for love, or lie
that that you don’t know him and secure your freedom within minutes?
What? You love him? He’s your soul mate? Yeah, yeah, yeah, but we’re talking
serious jail time for you here.
Which would you choose?
Be honest now.
0.99 cents for a limited time!
Avail on Kindle Unlimited
Praise for Color Blind:
‘Fast-paced, raw and entertaining with moments of unexpected
humor, this book will have you staying up late into the late.’
‘Clear your calendar this weekend – Eve Rabi has a new tale and
it’s kick**s as usual!’‘OMG, Eve! Just when I think your writing can’t get any better,
you surpass yourself! I am biting my nails, wondering what
will happen next!’
$0. 99 cents for a limited time,
so click on the image below to get your copy from Amazon!
Color Blind – Heartbreaking Romantic Suspense romance, book Release
Color Blind book 2, is now live on Amazon!
0. 99 cents for a limited time,
so click on the image below to get your copy!
Praise for Color Blind:
‘Fast-paced, raw and entertaining with moments of unexpected humor,
this book will have you staying up late into the late.’
‘Clear your calendar this weekend – Eve Rabi has a new tale and
it’s kick**s as usual!’
‘OMG, Eve! Just when I think your writing can’t get any better, you surpass yourself! I am
biting my nails, wondering what will happen next!’
$0. 99 cents for a limited time,
so click on the image below to get your copy from Amazon!
EVE RABI AUTHOR OF 43 ROMANTIC SUSPENSE BOOKS 