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.
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.
Prologue
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 themirage 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. Moreminutes 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.
Plus.
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.
Plus.
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.
Plus.
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.
Plus.
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.
Hello Mean Girls readers! Leslie and I decided to do something different with our review this time. We buddy read Knot (as we did with all the books in the Wake series) and decided to do a joint review this time. We are going to talk about all the things we loved about this book. Everyone always leaves your typical review and we both felt that this book deserved something different. It was that good. Both of us LOVE this series and we knew that Knot would not be any different.
Steph: OMG this book!! I swear Mo enjoys ripping my heart out. It's like she takes pleasure in my pain.
Leslie: Agreed. I knew Mo was going to cut me deep, but did she have to go SO deep?
Steph: So Leslie, tell me your favorite thing about this book.
Leslie: Everything. I loved the way Mo sucked me and never let go. She had my heart tied in a knot, to go along with the hundreds of knots in my stomach. Mo has a great way of reeling you and holding on tight. Once you start you know that you won't be doing anything else, except finishing the book.
Steph: Well that's definitely what happened, again. It seems that has happened with every single book in this series. You just can't get enough. Mo is the QUEEN of angst. I love that though. I crave it. Mo Mabie's writing is like a drug and I can't get enough of it. On a scale of one to ten on the angst meter, Knot was a twenty. That was my favorite thing. I love, love, LOVE me some angst. I want a book that is going to shatter me. There were so many times I wanted to scream at Nora and Reggie.
Leslie: Let's talk about Nora and Reggie. Reggie oh Reggie. I love that man. He was full on alpha and it was so sexy. Nora was strong willed and it was so refreshing. Finding a female with a strong backbone these days is like finding a unicorn. I loved seeing two strong willed characters with so much passion.
Steph: Absolutely. I loved the story of two strong characters that are also full of flaws. I think that's what helps build such a deep story. You want a book with characters that are three denominational. You want to know what makes them tick. You want to love with them, cry with them, laugh with them. A five star book is a book that checks off all the boxes and makes you feel what the characters feel. Knot did just that.
Leslie: Steph do you think people who have read Bait, Sail, and Anchor will love this book just as much?
Steph: 100% yes! Mo's writing just keeps getting better and better with each book and I can't wait to see what she does with the rest of the Bait family in the books to follow in this series. Mo will always be a one click on anything she releases.
Leslie: I agree. I'm a glutton for punishment and know instantly I will love anything she writes even if it does cut me to the core and I'm still recovering months later.
Steph: Can we talk about Mo doing that thing she does that no author does?
Leslie: YES! She continued with ending of a chapter and the beginning of the next chapter with the same thought just like she did in the previous books in the series. I got all giddy when I saw she was doing that again. I love how it ties the end and the beginning together without even missing a beat.
Going in we both knew Knot was going to suck us in in that Mo Mabie fashion but we didn't know that is would cut us that deep and have us in knots. Reggie and Nora's push and pull relationship had all the angst that we love in a Mo book and let us tell you it doesn't disappoint. Knot can be read as a standalone but we suggest you run yourself to Amazon, one click and read the Wake series then dive into Reggie and Nora's story. We promise it will be worth it.
M. Mabie lives in Illinois
with her husband. She is the author of the steamy comedy Fade In. Her
sophomore release, Bait, is the first book in the angst-filled erotic
Wake Series. She writes unconventional love stories and tries to embody
"real-life romance."
She cares about politics, but will not
discuss them in public. She uses the same fork at every meal, watches
Wayne's World while cleaning, and lets her dog sleep on her head. She
has always been a writer. In fact, she was born with a pen in her hand,
which almost never happens. Almost.
M. Mabie usually doesn't speak in third-person either. She promises.
M. MABIE would love to hear from you! You can find her at the following places online:
www.MMabie.com There you'll find everything you need to know, including how to subscribe to her exclusive newsletters, online store, playlists and fan made teasers.
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