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
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.
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?”
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.
“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.
“Call the cops!” Drover repeats. My phone’s inside the room!”
“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
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 firstname.lastname@example.org
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7 ‘Sensitive’ Men Reveal What They’ve Done to Their Wedding Photos After Their Marriage Dissolved
Ever wondered what men do to their wedding photos once the marriage is over? I’ve interviewed 7 men regarding this question and here’s what they had to say (names have been changed to protect the guilty):
John: “I’ve thrown all the photos in the garbage bin.”
Eve Rabi: “You mean in the recycling bin? The paper bin?”
John: Nope. “She was garbage; she didn’t deserve any form of recycling.”
Eve Rabi: “Let me guess – she cheated on you?”
John: “No, I cheated on her.”
Eve Rabi: “You cheated on her and you’re calling her garbage?”
John: “Yup. With her best friend too.”
Eve Rabi: “Christ, John, you are nuts.”
John: “That’s what everyone says.”
David: “I accidentally got a box of wedding pics when we split up. Six months later she wanted them. I thought sweet, she obviously wants to hang onto the memories. It not so easy to get over me, eh? But then she said, ‘I want to show my new guy how thin I was when we got married.”
Eve Rabi: “Oh, that must have been disappointing to you.”
David: “Nah. I sent them back to her.”
Eve Rabi: “That mighty big of you, David.”
David: “After I sprinkled apple juice all over her in the photos.”
Eve Rabi: “You did not!”
David: “I sure did. And it felt damn good.”
Daniel: “Why do you want to know?”
Eve Rabi: “For my blog. I won’t mention your name.”
Daniel: “How much am I going to get paid for that kind of info?”
Eve Rabi: “Ten beer nuts.”
Daniel: “Piss off.”
Vonny: “I have most of them with me because she moved into an apartment and had little space.”
Eve Rabi: “Oh okay.”
Vonny: “But the best ones are damaged now.”
Eve Rabi: “How?”
Vonny: “After she left, I used to look at them and cry. My tears, they ruined the best ones.”
Eve Rabi: “Poor Vonny. It’s great to find a sensitive guy.”
Vonny: “Yeah. Can I get a hug?”
Eve Rabi: “Eh…no.”
Eric: “I’ve given them up for safekeeping. Thought I’ll save them for when our kids grow up. They will want to see how their mum and dad looked in their heyday, right?”
Eve Rabi: “That’s sweet. Where are the photos?”
Eric: “At me mum’s.”
Eve Rabi: “But Eric, didn’t your mum die a couple months ago?”
Eve Rabi: “And didn’t you pay someone to dump everything in her house?”
Eric: “Oh, shit, I forgot about that. Hey, you have some memory.”
Eve Rabi: “You’re a liar Eric.”
Eric: “And? Your point is?”
Richard: “Oh, I have them all over my place.”
Eve Rabi: “That’s refreshing. Why? Your marriage is over, right?”
Richard: “Yeah, but I got hair in those pics. Not like now.”
Eve Rabi: “I see. Kind of vain, isn’t it?”
Richard: “You’re a fine one to talk considering the tonne of make-up you’re wearing.”
Eve Rabi: “Make-up? Tons? What make-up? I woke up like this.”
Eve Rabi: “Seriously, I woke up like this.”
Chris: “My new girlfriend tore them up.”
Eve Rabi: “She did not.”
Chris: “Oh, yeah. She was so jealous. But I got back at her. I dumped her iPhone into a glass of beer.”
Eve Rabi: “You did not!”
Chris: “Then I called the cops on her.”
Eve Rabi: “You did not!”
Chris : “You say that a lot, don’t ya?”
Eve Rabi: “Say what?”
Chris: “‘You did not.’”
Eve Rabi: “Mm.”
And there it is folks. 7 sensitive men open their hearts out to us about their wedding photos.
“Riveting from beginning to end. The twists and turns this book takes are unimaginable. Love it and want more!” Amazon Reader
#books #EveRabi #PsychologicalThrillers #CrimeThrillers #SuspenseNovels #FreeOnKindleUnlimited #Books
Eve Rabi is the best-selling author of 26 romantic crime novels. If you’re bored with vanilla reads, if you long for bold, scandalous, controversial yet romantic stories, you will enjoy reading books by an author who dares to go there. To quote an Amazon reviewer: “When you pick up an Eve Rabi book, forget sleep. She writes gripping page turners that will keep you reading till the very end.”
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I saw Steve Jobs the other night. The movie, not the man.
My opinion of the him?
Much as I understand what an icon he is with all his inventing, founding, marketing and shit; I just didn’t like what I saw of him.
I wanted to like him, really I did, especially since I own an iPhone and other Apple products, and since I’ve heard so much about the genius.
But I hated the way he ignored his friends, treated his pregnant girlfriend and rejected (initially) his daughter.
To me, charity begins at home, and if you can’t be loving and giving to family and friends, not to mention your own child; you deserve to drink vegetable juices for the rest of your days (or apple juice in his case) and be portrayed as Montgomery Burns. (Have you noticed both their hand movements? It’s uncanny, I tell you.)
So, after seeing the movie, I’ve decided to toss out my Macbook Air for a typewriter.
One that hasn’t been founded or made by Apple.
If you know of one, please holler. Money is no object, I have tons of IOUs I can issue:)
PS: I no longer care for Ashton Kutcher either, after seeing him in the role of Steve Jobs, so I’ve decided to delete all my episodes of Punked I’ve pirated from the internet.
PPS: I know a few of you are gonna kick my ass for talking ill about Stevo, but that’s cool. Just take a number and stand in line. While you’re waiting, read my book below if you’re over 18. If you aren’t over 18, ask your mom to buy it. Or your dad. 🙂
Tarago Jakobus was 6’4”, intelligent, extremely wealthy with a Midas touch.
He was also openly racist, politically incorrect and a chauvinistic pig who told offensive jokes.
He loved to party and was used to women vying for his attention.
So when his eyes fell on Tanin, he expected her to just melt into his bed and be grateful that he even looked her way.
To his utter surprise, she was totally unimpressed with his wealth, thought he was an uneducated buffoon and publicly rejected him.
Of course he was shocked and humiliated by her response.
But no woman had ever turned Tarago down before, and he found her fascinating. He became obsessed with her and decided to win her over his way – destroy all that is precious to her, so that she would have no choice but to need him.
If that didn’t work, he’d switch to plan ‘B’ – take away her freedom and throw her ass in jail.
And being the absolute bastard that he was, he did.
“Kan jy Afrikaans praat?”
“No!” I fold my arms across my chest. “I prefer English.”
“Because, sir, Afrikaans is the language of the oppressor.”
“It is also my language. Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to continue my surf and turf. Have a good evening.”
As he tries to walk away, I step in front of him and block his path. Opening my purse, I take out two coins and slap them on the table.
He looks at the coins, at my face, and his eyes twinkle.
Furious at his inability to take me seriously, I take out more coins from my purse and slap them in front of him. “Or do you need a note instead of coins? Huh?”
Again, he looks at the coins and smiles.
I open my purse and empty the contents on the table. “Why stop at coins, huh? Take my lipstick, my pens, my keys, my wallet – take everything! Just leave me the f…just leave me alone.”
With a smile, he brushes past me and walks away, leaving me staring after him.
Sarah appears and jerks her thumb towards the door. “Or do you want me to get security?”
Feeling like I’m in a really bad dream, I collect the contents of my bag and make my way out through the back door of the restaurant.
As I leave, I spot Tarago’s Merc parked in a special parking bay. A shiny, silver SLK. Ashwin always admired this car. Said it costs as much as a house. Mm.
I walk over to the stack of liquor bottles waiting to be collected, grab a Johnny Walker blue label and smile to myself. Taking a deep breath, I walk over to his car and slam the empty bottle on the windscreen. Bam! It shatters.
That felt greeeeat!
Damn bottle broke in my hand, though. No problem; I run over to the heap of empty bottles and grab another. Bam! The bonnet buckles. Man, this feels amazing. Why didn’t I do it before?
“What the fok are you doing?” a man screams.
“Stand back!” I warn as I raise the bottle.
He fired me – bam!
He’s evicting us – bam!
He’s lying ’bout me stealing – bam!
He’s an arrogant son of a bitch – bam!
All around the car, I walk and slam bottle after bottle and I feel alive and energized. This is how insanity must feel. What a delicious feeling.
“Sy is mull (She is mad),” someone complains.
I turn and look at the man who said that. When I smile, he shrinks back.
“I most certainly am,” I say, as I lift up the bottle and slam it on the roof of the car.
“You missed a spot.”
I whirl around to look up at Tarago, leaning against the door, eyeing me with crinkling eyes, while everyone around him have their hands on their head or pasted over their mouths.
“No, I didn’t, you racist fucker! I’m saving the bottle for your HEAD!”
“Really now?” His face has a bring-it-on look.
I nod and take a step towards him, bottle raised. He doesn’t move.
Pity the police has to arrive. With all their sirens blaring, they ruin a damn good cathartic session.
Tarago watches with a smile as I am handcuffed and thrown into the back seat of a cop car by a beefy, red-faced arsehole with a badge.
“Kan jy Afrikaans praat?” the cop in the driver’s seat asks.
I fume in silence.
He looks around to me for an answer.
“Just a few words,” I say, maintaining eye contact with him. “Like, FOK JY! (Fuck you!) and jou ma se MOOR! (Your mother’s cunt!) Basics.” I give a mirthless smile.
His eyes narrow. “Got attitude, hey? We’ll see about that. Do you know whose car you fucked up? Hey?”
“Nee, that is Meneer (mister) Jakobus’s vehicle. Taraaaaago Jakobus. You want to mess with an important man like that, hey? You little smart Alex.”
“Alec, you retard,” I mutter.
I fall silent and sit with my lips pressed together. I’m beyond angry now and this cop is wasting his time talking to me.
End of Excerpt
I’ve always loved this song, and when I listened to it today, while I was cooking a healthy stir fry, (okay fine, I wasn’t cooking a healthy stir fry; I was paying for a McDonald’s triple bacon cheeseburger, fries and a shake.) I wondered what the lyrics meant?
I decided to check it out.
During an interview about Set Fire to the Rain, Adele described it as ‘burning’ the pain of heartbreak in order to rid herself of it.
Of course, it’s a song about liberation and triumph — getting over heartbreak, saying adios to a two-faced jerk who said things that were ‘never true’ and who would ‘always win’ at whatever game he played. (Hey, how does Adele know my ex?)
I love it when you have to work out the lyrics, find the meaning of a poignant song, especially a love song.
But I gotta tell you; it comes a lot quicker to you if you’re high. But the danger there, is that while you’re high, you may end up setting fire to the asshole, instead of the rain.
Okay, okay, okay! Strike that, I’m kidding!
Anyho, in Burn’s World, A love Triangle, Burn set fire to the rain’ when she walked away from her first love Brody McGraw.
It was Trojan who ‘rose to claim it’ (her heart, that is, not her ass. Well, her ass too).
Even though he was a street thug who initially only wanted her because she belonged to Brody; he eventually fell in love with her, ‘kissed her lips’ and saved her.
But although Burn loved Trojan, she could never get over her first love, the man who broke her heart, Brody McGraw.
He couldn’t get over her either, and years later, when he returned to to his hometown, he was consumed with jealousy at the sight of Burn and Trojan together and set out to destroy Trojan.
The only way Burn could stop Brody and save Trojan, was to betray Trojan.
Read about Burn’s love triangle, by clicking on the link below:
Oh, and that picture of me on Audi’s billboard? A fan (some may call him a stalker) took my photo from Facebook and worked his magic on it. I’m thrilled, so I thought I’d show off a li’l. 🙂 🙂
Happy to announce that
My Brother My Rival (book 2)
is now available
If you go on holiday to countries like Libya, Iran, Mozambique and Ghana,
it’s illegal to take pictures of most government buildings.
That’s what happened to Payton in Gringa-A Modern-day Love Story.
Except that she was in Mexico, taking photos of sights, (not of buildings) when a cranky drug lord called Diablo, walked
up to her, called her a spy and bust a cap in her ass. (Hopefully, next time she will go somewhere safe. Like Syria.)
Read about Diablo’s beef with her by clicking on the link below:
..unless you’re prepared to go to prison for six years.
Yeah, well, that’s what The Immorality Act in South Africa (Apartheid times) was all about.
The penalty was up to five years imprisonment for the man, four years imprisonment for the woman, and if you were a coloured woman, you’d get six years.
Why six years for Colored women? ‘Cause they were thought to be provoking white males into having intercourse with them.
I kid you not.
Lucky for my family, the act was repelled in 1985.
Betrayed – He’d Get his Girl at Any Cost, is an interracial love story.
Had I written a book of this nature then, my ass would have been thrown in jail.
But right now my ass is safe.
Lucky ass of mine. 🙂
For a limited time, Betrayed is only …99 cents!
So, click on the link below and get your copy.
Go on, click.
Whachu waiting for?