Blog Archives



The Wrath of Temptation – Hell Hath No Fury …(Book Teaser)

Blog image 1 wordpress Wrath of Temptation 09 Jan 18(For more information about this book, click on image)

Alkwari rides her bicycle along a dirt road leading to her home in the bush. Wari, as they called her for short, wears a long kaftan, tattered leather sandals, beads around her neck, and a number of bracelets on her wrists. Her face is the colour of honey from a mixture of white Australian and Aborigine blood, and is dotted with white.
Sweat pours down her face as she pedals the long trip home from the town centre, something she undertakes every couple of months. Normally it’s not that hard a trip, but today she, is weighed down by the satchel of newspapers she carries on her back.

Wari was born in the bush, miles from nowhere, and has spent all her life in the bush. The hermit has no idea how old she is, and it doesn’t matter to her. The remoteness means that she has to fend for herself and live off the land. That’s not a problem for Wari, as she lives off dead animals mainly. She is adept at trapping animals, killing them, skinning them and using their carcasses for food. The rest of the animal is used to make medicine. Other hermits living in the bush sometimes travel to her for medicine, bringing food to barter with.

Wari arrives at her home, a shack made of corrugated iron and wood, and locks her bicycle with a chain and padlock to a tree. Her bicycle is her only luxury, her only means of getting into town, and she cannot afford to have it stolen by scroungers.

Clutching the satchel of newspapers, she draws aside a curtain made of discarded plastic sheeting and enters the dimly lit room. The room is bare, except for a mattress and the bottles of medicine made by Wari, which line the edge of the room.

A man dressed in just a pair of boxers lies on the floor. Extremely thin with a heavily scarred face and body, he jumps to sit up at the sight of her. “Did you get them? Did you?”

Wari nods, then throws her satchel at him.

He catches it, hurriedly opens it and scans the newspapers, his eyes bright and shiny with excitement.

The man is Lieb Sault. Once a patient of hers, he now is someone who shares her bed. It was more than two years ago when she found him lying on her doorstep. At first, she thought he was an animal that had been mauled by another. He was covered in blood and dirt, and barely alive. When she realized it was a wounded man, she took him in and began healing him with her homemade medicine. He had lost a lot of blood from the chest wound. She had plugged his wound with special herbs and given him medicine for the pain.

For the first three months, she’d enter the room and look to see if his chest was still rising and falling. Each time she saw that it was, she was amazed. It was a miracle the man with the deathly pale skin was still alive.
Over time, he had begun to move. When he opened his eyes, she saw that they were grey-blue. Once he sat up in bed, she knew he was going to be okay. Shortly after that, Wari began to share Lieb’s bed.

Being in the middle of nowhere suited Lieb. He needed time to heal and recover. He also needed the dust he had raised by helping Scarlett escape, to settle, before he could even think of returning to his former life.

He had no idea when, how or where, but he knew that one day, Scarlett would return to prison and he lived for that day. That would be the day he would be at the prison waiting for her, to look the woman who betrayed him in the eye. The woman who made him give up everything for her – his kids, his wife, his home, his job, his life – everything, only to deceive him in the end, then murder him. He would return, and make her days a living hell.

Every time he scanned the newspapers, he looked for news of his prisoner. (Yes, she was his prisoner and she would always be his personal prisoner.) He lived for that day when he reads that she has been, arrested and thrown back in prison.

That’s why it was important for him to read the papers. Whenever Wari went into town, Lieb would ask her to bring him back newspapers. Why he was so interested in the news, Wari had no idea. She had always got him paper though. Even though the newspapers were old, they made Lieb happy. Wari wanted to make him happy so that he’d stay. She had no idea who he was, what his name was or what had injured him, and she didn’t care. She just wanted him to stay with her.

Lieb holds his breath as he reads. Has she been caught as yet?

According to the newspapers: no.

Lieb nods to himself. Still out there, living your life, are you? Well, enjoy it while you can.

Disappointed, he walks out of room and into the harsh sunlight of a sun-baked land. After blinking to adjust to the bright light, he walks over to a pile of rocks, picks the two large ones from the pile and lifts them above his head several times. As he exercises, he thinks of his obsession. Revenge will be sweet. He will see to it. She thought he had died, but she was wrong. Lieb Sault will be back. Assault will be back.

He drops the two rocks, picks up two heavier ones, and lifts them above his head. Over and over again he lifts them until his muscles burn.
When he is done, he pulls open his pants and looks at his penis. It is hard as the rock he has lifted. Just thinking about Scarlett, could make him rock-hard. That made him happy, it made him feel virile and young again. He hated how old he felt when he couldn’t get an erection. Now, thanks to Wari’s medicine, his penis now works. Every day he drinks her vile potions for potency. What is in them, he has no idea and he doesn’t really care – as long as they work, he’ll drink them by the gallon.

He removes all his clothes and allows the sun to scorch him. He would need to lose the paleness and acquire a tan. She liked her man tanned. Despite the burning sensation, he stays in the sun, forcing his face up to the skies. She would be impressed at how bronze he was, find it sexy and become turned on. The thought of her being turned on with his improved physique is exhilarating.

He looks out into the expanse and takes a deep breath. Some men kidnap women and hold them prisoners in their basements for years, to do whatever they want to do to them. He would do the same. Except that he would do it legally – he’d have his personal prisoner shackled and chained in a hole in prison, to torment and abuse at the drop of a hat, and he would take great pleasure in doing that to her. The best part of it all? It was legal, and he would never have to worry about going to prison for kidnapping and torture.

He couldn’t wait for that day – the day when he goes back to his job as prison chief warden and once again, become revered and pandered to.

In preparation for the day he leaves this God-forsaken place, he’s evaporated some of the jars of medicine in the sun, creating a fine powder, which he has packed into plastic bags. It would be easier to carry bags of powder when he leaves, rather than jars of liquid. He has to take the powder with him, for the type of punishment he has planned for Scarlett, his penis would need to work on demand.

He looks down and nods at this erect penis. “Soon. It will be worth the wait. She will be worth the wait. Trust me.”

End of Excerpt. 

Release date: 16 January 2018


The Other Woman (an epic and jaw-dropping collision between a betrayed wife and a cunning seductress), which has an overall 5-star rating on Amazon U.K. and Amazon Aus. Fans of Girl on the Train and Gone Girl will love Eve Rabi’s tales of love, lust and revenge. To read The Other Woman, click on the image below.

#RomanticCrimeBooks #RomanticSuspenseBooks #StoriesofRevenge #VigilanteJustice #RomanceNovels

Wordpress promo banner the other woman 18 dec 17 Eve Rabi




Now available on Amazon!






“OMG!!! Yet another amazing book by Eve. From the moment you start reading, you are gripped. I have recommended Eve to friends and family.” Smashwords reviewer

“I just finished the book. All I have to say is, HOLY SHIT, EVE! You wrote a killer story that grabs the reader’s attention and keeps it.” Smashwords Reviewer

“OMG Eve! You are absolutely BRILLIANT! I never saw that ending coming!” Smashwords Reviewer

“Forget those well manicured nails. Eve Rabi’s latest book Lead me into Temptation will have you nibbling on your delicate French tips from start to finish. Brilliant!” Smashwords Reviewer

“Wow! I loved this story! My suggestion, do what I did: find a quiet hiding spot, turn off your phone and escape into Scarlet’s world for a few hours. I promise you will not be disappointed.” Smashwords Reviewer

“Be warned: if you start reading this book you won’t want to put it down
until it’s over…then you feel a bit disappointed because you want more.” Smashwords Reviewer

“Prepare to sacrifice several hours of sleep and walk around with panda eyes because that’s what happened to me. But hey the adrenaline rush from this fast paced and exciting story was so worth it.” Smashwords Reviewer






This is not a stand-alone book, so make sure you have read The Other Woman first – A betrayed wife collides with the other woman (Romantic crime and suspense).

cover VERY SMALL  the other woman 25 Nov 15

The Other Woman





















“Wow! People are going to have to clear the schedules for this one, Eve. It’s a winner for sure! I’ve never read anything like this before. Where the hell do you get your ideas from? Never mind, just keep ’em coming.” Smashwords reviewer


Eve Rabi’s 27th romantic crime & Suspense

thriller coming late November 2016!

Cover Temptation 1 9 nov 16 MEDIUM.jpg

He may be dedicated to the church, to his God, and he may have chosen to lead a sterile life. However, he is still a man. Deep down, his wants and needs are like those of most men.
Once he encounters me, the forbidden fruit, those repressed desires will be stirred. My plan is to quench those desires and gain ascendancy over him.  

LEAD ME INTO TEMPTATION, Eve Rabi’s latest book, a crime & suspense thriller about love, lust and revenge is coming soon. 

Watch this space for a release date and more excerpts.





Teddy P

I was eighteen, he was nineteen.

I was shy when it came to boys, so he was my first kiss, my first date, my first love, my first everything.

Both of us were college students, so all he could afford on his student bursary was this li’l diamond chip.

But, it’s my most prized possession for so many reasons.

We dated for five years, until I left in search of greener.

I did get greener, bigger, better, but even though we live in different countries, I never forgot him, my first love. The boy who gave me all he had, all the time.

I talked to him the other day on Facebook. A mutual friend had told him that I had changed my status to ‘single’ on Facebook, so he wanted to know how I was.

We talked about his kids and my kids and our spouses and about life.

“You know, I still have the chain you bought me,” he said. “When we were dating. And I use it. Often.”

“What? You serious?”

“Absolutely. It’s my most prized possession.” His exact words. I couldn’t believe it.

I asked to see a picture of it, as I had forgotten what I bought him. He sent me a photo of a thin, flimsy, sterling silver chain. I laughed and cringed at its cheapness. He’s on the flashy side, so I was surprised that he’d wear something so simple.

“Does your wife know about it?” I asked.

“No, she thinks my mom gave it to me.”

“Mm. I still have your ring, you know.”

There was a small silence before he spoke. “You’re kidding me. You don’t actually have it, do you?”

“I have it.”

Another small silence. “Wow! Can I see a photo of it?”

“Okay, I will send you one tomorrow.”

So, I softened my cuticles, exfoliated my hands, painted my nails a pretty blue and took a picture of me wearing the ring.

“Wow!” he said when he saw the photo. “That’s a bloody cheap-ass ring I bought you. I’m so embarrassed, Eve.”

“Don’t be,” I said. “It’s my most prized possession, too. I’ve kept it in the safe behind all my other jewelry and my will, so that my husband (ex-husband now) wouldn’t find it and badger me into throwing it out. Like he did with all our photos.”

“I’m so touched that you kept it. Hey, I remember the day I bought you the ring. You had this big grin on your face and you kept waving your hands around so that your friends would notice.”

I laughed out loud.

He was right; you’d think it was an 8 carat Harry Winston pink diamond or something, the way I flashed it around. But I was 18 and even though I tried to dissuade him from buying me a ring, I was thrilled with it.

“I remember that day,” I said, as my laughter died and a wave of nostalgia washed over me.

It was a while before he broke the silence.

“Eve, besides the times when you look at the ring, do you …like, I mean, do you ever …think of …me? Of us?”

For five years, he was my life, my love and we spent every waking moment together.  What did he think my answer was going to be?

I cleared my throat.

(To be continued)



September 23, 2013

Continued from Part One …

I wanted to say, “Yes, I think of you. I think of you often. More than I should. I wonder how you’re doing. I wonder if you achieved all that you dreamed off. I wonder if you ever think of me, of us. I wonder if you hate me. Maybe just a little. I wonder if you love her the way you loved me. I wonder if you remember my birthday, cos I never forget yours.” 


“Eh, you first,” is what I finally said.  

“All the time,” he blurted without hesitation. “Every time I bought something new, achieved something, I thought of you. Anytime something monumental happened in my life, I don’t know why, but I thought of you. How nice it would be to tell you about it. Not because I wanted to show off or something, but just because.”

I sat in my cloak of smugness. He thought about me.  All the time too. Wow!

“Like the time you got married?” I said. “You called me that day, remember?”

“Yeah, and you were such a bitch about it.”

“What, you expected me to jump for joy?” He had no idea how painful that phone call was for me. How I pretended I didn’t care, all the while wanting to simply die at the finality of our break-up.

“Well, you could have …”

“You got married like almost three months after we ended things. And she moved in with you right away! You guys were moving at an incredible speed which was confusing to me. So yeah, I believed that there was something was going on between the two of you while we were dating. I still do. Of course I was pissed off.  With her and you. She stole you from me.”

“But you left for …”

“And anyway, I challenge you to find a girl who says, ‘Congratulations, ex-boyfriend who I dated for five years. Hope you and that bitch lives happily ever after like Shrek,’ and does a joyful jig.”

“Shrek? Ha! Ha!”

“And did your wife know you called me that day?”

“Of course not. She’d die if she knew.”

“Mm. And why did you call me? I mean, how could you, on your wedding day of all days, call me, your ex-girlfriend? Something was wrong with that picture, boy.”

“Yeah…I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Well, clearly you were thinking about me.” My voice oozed glee.

“Yeah, I was nuts.”


A short silence.

“Listen, I have to deliver a lecture. Three actually. Can we chat in about four hours? And can I call you?”

“It’s a long distance call!” I reminded him.

“Please, I really want to hear your voice. Please.”

“I…look, I really don’t …”

“Just this once. Please! Here’s my number…” He typed it in and hit send. “Message me your number. Now.”

After a slight hesitation, I said, “Okay.”


“I will.”

“No, say you promise.”

I smiled. “I promise.”

“Cool.” He sent me three smiley faces and xoxo.

I laughed and messaged him my number.

How should I end the conversation, I wondered?

Xoxo? No, hugs and kisses – too forward for our first convo.

C u later? Too cold.


I typed in five smiley faces and hit send. It’ was neutral enough and he could read into it what he liked.

I logged off and peered at the clock. Four hours.

Quickly, I loaded the dishwasher, tidied the lounge, folded washing, fed the dog and cat and hastily assembled a chicken salad for dinner; all so that I could be free to free to talk to him in four hours.

To hear his voice after thirteen years.

The thought of it made me shiver with delight.  

I looked at the clock again. Only an hour has passed!


 When my phone rang three hours later (not four), with an Out of Area signal on it, my mouth went dry and I swallowed hard.

After several deep breaths, I answered. “H…hello?”



“You sound the same,” he said, his voice full of excitement.

“Ohmigod, you sound the same too!”


“Yeah, you do.”

“You …you don’t have an Aussie accent?”

“Well …”

“This is surreal,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Us talking. Just surreal.”


“What’s your daughter’s names?” he asked.

“Billie and Sydney,” I answered. I wondered if he remembered that Billie had been significant to us. “What’s your kids’ names?”

“Joshua and …” His hesitation piqued my curiosity. “…Billie.”

I was stumped. Tears smarted my eyes, while he cleared his throat several times.

“Oh, man!” he said, his voice hoarse.

I nodded, forgetting that he couldn’t see me.

 We both fell silent as nostalgia lingered.

“You know that song by Kid Rock? All summer long…whatever? Remember that song?

“Eh, vaguely,” I lied.

“You should listen to it. I downloaded it, and when I’m alone in the car, I blast it and think about you. Us.”


“Yeah. All the time. I always smile when I listen to it. Sometimes I laugh out loud when I think of all the things we did then. Then I get hit by a bout of nostalgia and I’m sad again.”

My heart sang at his confession.

“And I think Rags knows it’s significant, because once or twice when she got into my car, it was playing and she changed the song straight away.”


Good. I silently hoped it burned her.

“And Passenger? Let her Go? Do you know that song?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah?”

“I turn it off when I hear it.”

“Off? Wwwwwhy? I loooove that song!”

It was a while before he answered. “Makes me sad. Disappointed. I don’t quite know why. Like, I love my wife, I love my family, I’m happy in my life, I’ve achieved all I dreamed I would and more, yet…it’s like …I dunno, something is missing. When I think about you, that is. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not trying to start something…”

“We would have never made it,” I hastened to add. “We fought too much.”
“Ah, but it was the making up after the fighting that was great! Special. Wasn’t it? Or don’t you remember?”

I chuckle. “I do, I do.”

His words set my feet tapping against the wooden floors of my study. The making up was always so awesome. Beautiful.

 “Don’t you fight with your wife?”

“No, not really.”

“Really? You don’t fight?”

“Yeah, she’s not like that. She doesn’t fight or argue and like, well, I dunno, she’s …reasonable. Logical.” There was a slight disdain to his voice.

“Mm. Sounds dull to me,” I said, my bitchiness getting the better of me. That comment will most definitely make him mad, I thought. Make him regret contacting me.

“Yeah, true,” he said to my surprise. “I liked it in the beginning, but it’s strange that the very thing I liked about her, is the very thing I …” He appeared to be choosing his words, “…I wish I could change.”

Wow, I hadn’t spoken to him in more than a decade and he’s talking so freely to me, I thought.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that to you. I feel disloyal to her when I do. She doesn’t deserve it.”

Yes she does! We probably would be together today had she not moved so swiftly.

We both fell silent for a moment.

 “Your turn,” he said. “Spill. Do you think of me? Like over the years?”

I was hoping he’d forget to ask me.

“Well, yeah, I think about you too,” I confessed. “Five years is a lifetime. Especially during that period in your life. Like, I was seventeen when I met you and then we grew up together. It’s hard not to think about that time, you, our friends …”

“Yeah, I don’t understand why we can’t be friends and keep in touch with each other. I mean, I’m not trying to hurt anybody. And I know you – you wouldn’t want to hurt anyone, either.”

“True. So, you burnt all my photos, huh?”

He laughed.  “Yep. She found my hidden stash and demanded I burn it all. What a bonfire!”

“What about you?” he asked.

“Same. My ex found my diary once while I was out shopping and read the whole thing. Our fights, my fears, our sweet times…read every goddamn thing. So we too had a massive bonfire.”

“Too bad.”

“But hey, I salvaged something.”

“You did? What?”

“A tiny teddy bear you once gave me.”

“Seriously? You kept my teddy bear? Really?”

“Yep. It says, ‘I purr when I’m cuddled.’ Has a little red top. Very pretty and very precious.”

“Hey, you know what, I remember that teddy! We had a fight and…”

“…over my curfew on campus …” I smiled as I thought about it.

“…and you left me on the highway and drove off in my car! How could you do that to me? It was 2 AM.”

I laughed. “You’re the one who pulled over and told me to drive myself home. I begged you to get into the car, but you told me to fuck off, so I did. I was working the next morning, remember? Had to be up at 6.”

“God, you were such a bitch. I hitched a ride with a biker. Fat, old guy. He stank like shit and I had to put my thighs around his. Eeewww! Gives me the shivers to think about it.”

I laughed.   

“Hey, I stole money from my mom’s purse to buy you that.”

“Ha ha ha. I didn’t know you stole money from your mom. But I remember that day, you bringing it to me. That was an awesome day.”

We spent the next hour trading memories, until it was time for him to go.

“I’ll call you again,” he said.

Tomorrow? Please say you’ll call me tomorrow?

“In two days.”  

Damn! Why not tomorrow?

“Sure,” I said, doing my best to sound casual.

“Um…take care now and be good,” he said. “On second thoughts, don’t. Be just the way you are. Exactly the way you are.”

My grin was big enough to stick in a coat hanger.

After I hung up, I scrolled down my iPhone, found Kid Rock’s All Summer Long and hit play.

Every time I had heard that son, I thought about him. Only him. If only he knew.

Yep, we were trying different things, for sure.

We were smoking funny things, oh yeah!


I whirled around to my little girl.

“Who you smiling at?”

“Um…well…eh…nobody,” I said and quickly left the room, my hand pasted over my mouth. 

Alone in my room, I lay on my bed and post mortem every single thing he said. Every confession, every silence, every chuckle and I hug my pillow.

Two days…how will I survive the waiting?

To be continued…


MY EX-BOYFRIEND’S RING (18 years later, I get a friend request from him on Facebook.)

18 years later, I get a friend request from him on Facebook ring p

I was eighteen, he was nineteen when we met. I was shy when it came to boys, so he was my first kiss, my first date, my first love, my first everything. We were both college students, so money was scarce, yet he insisted on buying me a ring. All he could afford was this li’l diamond chip bought with money from his student loan. It became my most prized possession and it seldom left my finger.

We dated for five years, planned to marry someday, even chose names for our kids – a girl and a boy – Wesley and Paris.

We were truly, madly, deeply in love.

Sadly, as the years passed, I grew restless and left him in search of greener pastures. He was sad at my desire to leave, but he was quickly snapped up by a mutual friend. Within months, they got married.

I did get greener, bigger and maybe even better, but I never forgot the boy who bought me my first diamond. The boy who gave me all he could, all he had, all the time.

I moved to a different country and for years we had no contact with each other. But I always thought of him. What became of him? Then, a stroke of sheer luck – 18 years later, I get a friend request from him on Facebook. With shaking hands, I accepted his request.

Him: You hiding from me?

Me: Nope, you disappeared from my radar. Good to make contact with you again.

Him: Great to make contact with you. Wonderful in fact.

I feel a surge of happiness at his adjectives.

Him: Heard you changed your Facebook status to single. What gives?
Me: Didn’t work out. Happens.

Him: Happens, true. U ok?
Me: I will be now that I’ve heard from you. Smiley face.

Him: smiley face jumping up and down.

Me: lol.

Me: How is the wife, the kids, work?

Him: All good. Kids grown, taller than me. Smart too.

Me: Same here, except my kids aren’t really smart, just know it all kind of kids. They know everything. Seriously.

Him: Lol.

Him: Hey, you remember you once bought me a chain while we were dating?

Me: Yeah…the silver one? Y?

Him: Still got it. Use it all the time.

Me: U serious?

Him: Absolutely. It’s my most prized possession.

His most prized possession? My heart warms. I couldn’t believe it.

Me: I would love to see a pic.

Him: Hold on, will take one. Am wearing it now.

Me: Now? Wow!

I bristled with excitement as I waited for the picture. After a few minutes, I saw the chain. Thin, cheap and sterling silver. I laughed with delight, then cringed at its cheapness. He’s on the flashy side – gold chains, BMW, expensive threads… so I was surprised that he’d wear something so simple.

Me: Wow! Does your wife know about it?

Him: She thinks my mom gave it to me.

Me: I still have your ring, you know.

A short pause before he responds:

Him: U kidding me?

Me: Nope. I have it.

Him: You use it?

Me: No, for obvious reasons, but I think of you whenever I see it.

Him: Wow! Seriously?
Me: Seriously.
Another short pause before he responds.

Him: I’m feeling moved. Can’t explain it.

I smile.

Him: Can I see a photo of the ring?

Me: Okay, I will send u one tomorrow.

Him: Now.

Me: Can’t. People around. Sorry.

Him: Pouting.

Me: Smiling. Still a big baby, aren’t ya?
Him: Yep.

Me: Gotta go.
Him: Wait!

Him: Same

Him: time

Him: tomorrow? This time?

I think about it before I answer. Will I be at my computer tomorrow this time?

Him: Say yes. I really wanna talk to you. You’ve been on my mind for so long, and there’s so much to talk about. Right?

Me: Right. Talk tomorrow.

Him: Cool. Supercool. Smiley face.

That evening, I softened and pushed back my cuticles, exfoliated my hands, painted my nails a pretty blue and took a picture of me wearing his ring. The next day, after taking a photo of it, I sat at my computer and sent it to him. His reply was immediate.

Him: Wow!

Him: It’s beautiful, but a bloody cheap-ass ring. I’m so embarrassed to have bought U such a small diamond. Cringing.

Me: Don’t be. As I said, it’s my most prized possession, too. I’ve kept it in the safe, tucked it away behind all my other jewelry and my last will and testament so that my husband (ex-husband now) wouldn’t find it and badger me into throwing it out. Like he did with all our photos.

Him: I’m touched that you kept it. Hey, I remember the day I bought you the ring. You had this big grin on your face and you kept waving your hands around so that everyone would notice.

I laughed out loud. He was right; you’d think it was an 8 carat Harry Winston pink diamond or something the way I flashed it around. But I was 18. Even though I tried to dissuade him from buying me a ring, I was thrilled with it and kept polishing it.

Me: I remember that day like it was yesterday. You paid cash in small notes too. All your money was spent on the ring, so we couldn’t afford a fancy lunch that day.
I smiled as I replied, but as nostalgia washed over me, my smile faded.

Me: u there?

Him: Yep. Frog in my throat.

Me: Same here.

Him: Besides the times when you look at the ring, do you …like, I mean, do you ever …think of …me? Of us?

For five years he was my life, my sweetheart. We spent every spare moment together dreaming about a future together. What did he expect my answer was going to be?

Him: Honestly?

I cleared my throat.

(To be continued)

Facebook ever stalked your ex burn


%d bloggers like this: