Author: M Mabie
Series: The Wake Family #1
Release Date: July 12, 2016
Genre: Contemporary Romance, Erotic Romance
More Info: Goodreads
Purchase: Amazon US
Purchase: Barnes & Noble
Purchase: Amazon UK
He knows everything.
She has all the damn answers.
I’ve always been a free spirit. It’s my nature.
I crave control, but with her it’s far more.
He’s a power hungry climber.
Her wealth could buy and sell me.
It’s too much pressure being the center of anyone’s focus.
She underestimates my desire for her, my need to please just her.
When he’s vulnerable, it’s hard to deny him.
Her crooked smile cripples me.
He hides his demons, but I’m no fool.
She thinks not committing to anyone makes her more honest. She’s wrong.
A man like him deserves someone who can offer that kind of love.
She promises nothing, yet I feel like a king when she says my name.
I never let anyone possess me like he did. Not before. Not after.
My greatest regret was compromising. I should have never held back.
Still, when we’re apart I’m not myself.
I miss the days when she was just down the hall.
He’s better off without me, and it hurts.
The ugly truth is I need her more than she needs me.
Our relationship was born out of lust and curiosity.
The lies we told ourselves killed it.
Together, we found Nirvana.
We learned it was all a mirage.
I ruined him.
I broke her heart.
I keep coming back.
I can’t let her go.
Series: The Wake Family #1
Spin-off Series: Wake
Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance
Author: M Mabie
Release Date: July 12, 2016
Reggie – Friday, June 11, 2010
Our fucked up history was Hell dressed up in heels and pearls, suits and cuff links, pretending to be Heaven. Had either of us known it really was Nirvana—and not the mirage we’d thought—maybe we could’ve stayed.
Our relationship was a dream I’d never wake up from. Sometimes it felt like a fantasy. Sometimes a nightmare. A mind fuck that had me ticking down numbers.
Fuck starting from ten.
Fuck ten a long time ago.
With her, I should have started at infinity. At least then I’d have more time. More minutes of torture. More seconds of bliss. At infinity, I would have had the time to prove her wrong. If I’d only known she was.
Nine times I let her go. Maybe more. Maybe less.
She never wanted what she said at all, and every time I fell under her spell, I proved her right. Every fucking time. Every mistake. Every misstep. Every time I held back from my instincts.
Still, with us, fault was universal.
We’d both failed each time. All eight or so times I’d denied myself by not telling her the truth, I hadn’t realized I’d denied her a thousand times more.
I only ever wanted her. Fuck money. Fuck power. Fuck my pride. Fuck all seven days of the week without her. Fuck other women and fuck the whole country of Switzerland.
Fuck knowing damn well in my gut the whole fucking time.
But while she was there in my arms, under my body, I’d settle for fucking her. She knew it was how we could’ve been.
Fuck her stubbornness. Fuck her fucking ability to stay away for six or the half-dozen months at a time while she chased her tail. I stood by and watched, all but cheering her on.
Fuck the sound of her voice when she laughs. Not any old laugh—fuck those, too—but specifically the special one. Her Reagan laugh. I wish I could mute my memories of her, but that laugh will haunt me forever.
That laugh belonged to only me, along with a handful of other fragments of her that I never took the time to piece together. If I had, she might have been whole. She might have been mine if I’d added them all up.
Ironically, I didn’t look for the sum of the real her. How many math classes did I need to learn this one damn woman? Certainly ones I hadn’t taken. Certainly ones I would have failed.
If I could go back to the beginning, I’d add more up than just how many times I could get any of my five fingers, my tongue, and cock into her. I’d add her only-for-Reagan parts. They’d been there all along.
They were enough.
Starting with the four or so seconds, where she didn’t even know her name—let alone mine—before she cried out in ecstasy. That wonder in her eye. The pull of the tendons in her gorgeous neck. The tightening of her brow. The slack of her jaw.
The way she looked handing me coffee, naked in the kitchen. Her wet hair matted and untamed. Her skin pink from the hot shower. The print the bathroom tile left fading on her shoulders.
The way she stretched her feet when she woke up in my sheets. Spreading them and wiggling the one we knew would always be our toe.
The way she could recite every ingredient in her favorite dishes. How she knew about cheese from other countries, even though she’d never visited most of them.
The way she kissed my Adam’s apple, then rubbed it with her thumb. Only to kiss it a second time.
Those were things meant only for me.
I’d add every time she called me, and I answered.
I’d subtract the times I didn’t because I was selfish and wanted her to show up instead.
Then I’d multiply that total by the times she told me she more-than-just-loved me. Which was exactly three. I hadn’t even realized what she meant the first time, but the second time, I was sure to make up for it. The third had been tonight.
We’d been two people lost. Wandering around, pretending we’d known everything.
Even though it was most likely the last time I’d ever fuck her, it would also—mercifully—be the last time we’d ever fight.
Sadly, it was the first time I’d seen the power my words had held over her the whole time. I’d watched her heart break. I’d watched as she crumpled to the floor and sobbed. I’d felt like I was doing the same.
It was too late for our hearts.
I’d surrendered, given up, and shot one precise, verbal bullet through my heart, then watched it pierce hers.
There was nothing left. I’d hit zero for the last time.
As I watched the tears fall from her eyes—after I pushed into her for the very last time, filling her with everything I’d never told her—misery infected my gut.
Then, I felt the knot constrict.
We’d tangled the delicate thread between us too many times.
It tightened to a point of throbbing pain. I knew there’d never be a minute left in my life where I didn’t feel the ache of her. Her absence, the source of blinding tension. The sharp pulse of a love ripped from me before I had a chance to watch it mature.
That was all that was left of me.
Zero and the knot.
If ever I held any doubts, this book just solidified it. M Mabie is the QUEEN of angst! Not the incessant kind of angst that grates on your nerves. No, the soul crushing type of angst that you feel all the way down to your bones. The kind of angst that you’re not quite sure you’ll survive when the book is over. The type of angst that makes you wish you had a Valium prescription and keeps you looking down at your chest, sure you’ll have claw marks from grasping it in agony so often. One may think these all sound like horrible things, but to an angst monster like me? Well, they are the things that perfection is made from. I went into this story pretty blind, expecting something kind of similar to the Wake series, but what I received in return surprised even me. I expected steam, like maybe the kind that comes from veggies in a pot. But much to my surprise and delight, what I got was the steam from lobsters being boiled in a locomotive. It wasn’t even that it was in your face steamy or even that often. It was all in the build up, the anticipation, and the wording. It was in the little touches and slight glances. It was in the promise. The promise folks. She promised the heck out of me with this story!
I love that, like the Wake books before this, you really can’t tell a whole lot from the synopsis. Mabie has a unique way of drawing you in with JUST enough to get you on the hook. She leaves you wanting more, and there is no question you’ll blindly follow her down whatever path she chooses, grasping for any morsel of literature she drops. She’s the pied piper of angst folks. Of broken hearts and mended souls. She starts you out in turmoil, goes back to the beginning to see how they got to that crossroads, and leaves you not knowing which direction it will go. You can hope and dream all you want, but you can’t know for sure. She draws you in, hook, line, and sinker and you are grasping onto that rope of promise until the bitter end. I simply cannot say enough good things about her writing. It grabs you by the collar, keeping a tight fist long after the story is over. She leaves your heart so darn full and wondering what in the heck just happened. Why are you beaming from ear to ear, yet tears are streaming down your face? And to be honest, you really can’t even begin to answer that question until you yourself have read the story.
So dear readers, I implore you. Pick up this book today. I was vague in specifics for a reason. You need to go into this just as blindly as I did. Go on now. You’ll thank me later!
Knot is a contemporary romance and a complete standalone. It is the first spin-off from the best-selling Wake Series. You do not need to read Bait, Sail, or Anchor to enjoy this book in its entirety, but if you love angst you’ll enjoy them, too.
He was trouble from the start, but I couldn’t resist.
She was the best kind of trouble. The kind that was so wrong, it felt right.
I’ve tried and failed to stay away from him.
I’ve done everything in my power to make her mine and keep her.
He’s almost impossible to say no to.
She never tells me yes.
We’re always fighting.
When we’re not fighting, we’re… well… making up.
He makes me laugh so hard.
I miss her laugh the most.
I’m a liar.
She knows the truth, but won’t admit it.
Sometimes, I wish I’d never met him.
I wish we could meet all over again. I’d do better.
His girlfriend knows.
The guy she’s with is a fool.
I’ll never love anyone like I love him.
She doesn’t love me enough to choose us.
It was the wrong place.
It was the wrong time.
It should have been him.
It will always be her.
This isn’t just a two-year long one-night stand. It’s my life.
This is my life. Our life. It isn’t just some careless affair.
I’ve made the worst decisions a woman could, but I’ll earn my second chance.
She can try keeping all the guilt for herself, but I’m just as much to blame.
Loving Casey wasn’t my biggest mistake. Fighting it for so long was.
I’ll show her how fearless our love makes me. I’ll protect her torn heart.
He still has magic in his eyes. He’s the man who makes me happy.
Her voice still brings me to my knees. She says my name like it’s sacred.
I live for the day when I’m his. To take care of him. To love him the way he deserves.
I can’t wait to be all she needs. I can give her a happy life, security and so much love.
Sometimes two ships never meet in the night, but ours did.
Sometimes the water is rough. It beats you all to hell until you have no choice but get stronger.
Our love story reads more like a tragedy, but to me it’s clean and pure.
Let them point their fingers. Without a love like ours, they haven’t really lived. I pity them.
I’m a cheating wife and a villain. I am his honeybee.
I’m a snake in the grass and I sleep best when I’m lying next to his wife.
I want to be his everything.
I’m nothing without her anyway.
This isn’t even close to over.
It’ll never be over.
I believe in love at first sight.
Now I know soulmates exist.
Nothing has ever been easy for us.
Every fight, every struggle, has been worth it.
I’m stubborn, but what woman isn’t?
She’s hard work and I love the overtime.
He’s frustrating and unpredictable. I hope he never changes.
I love driving her crazy. That’s half the fun.
Lou’s sexy curls.
Honeybee’s pink nose.
He still looks at me like I’m precious and unflawed.
She treats me like I’m the center of her world.
Our future will be full of happiness.
Despite everything, we’re two of the lucky ones.
I took the bait.
She was a lucky catch.
He is the wind in my sail.
She’s the anchor that grounds me.
The wake our love made is beautiful.
Every day I thank God for her.
No matter the hurdles, we’ve jumped them side-by-side.
No matter the obstacles, we’ve made it through together.
For better or for worse, I’d do it again.
I’ll love and protect her all the days of my life.
We made it.
We always will.