BLOG TOUR – Knot by M. Mabie


Title – Knot
Author – M. Mabie
Publication Date – July 12, 2016
Series – Wake Family, #1



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 1


After reading several books by this author, I know I can always depend on M. Mabie to deliver when I’m craving angst and steam. Her characters have proved to be complicated and frustrating, with chemistry that is beyond sizzling. The world she has created with Knot is no exception and I found myself addicted to Reggie and Nora’s story.

“That was my problem. Sometimes I couldn’t stand Hyde, but I couldn’t bear to hurt Jekyll. What did that leave for me?”

This first book in the Wake Family series is written in dual point of view, and it does sparingly go back and forth from past to present. While it took a little bit of time for me to get adjusted to the varying combinations, I became truly engrossed and felt an aching need to get back to these characters whenever I had to put the book down. Nora was quite different from any other heroine I have come across. She was so sure in what she wanted and liked, and wasn’t ashamed of it. She was strong and independent, which presented for an interesting dynamic when it came to Reggie. He was a hard-headed alpha male who liked to maintain control in all aspects of his life. Have you ever read a character that left you grinning and biting your lip in anticipation? Well, he was that hero for me. He was full of surprises that truly exhibited the layers that made the man. I appreciated that while words couldn’t always be expressed between these two, Mabie did a great job at showing how these characters cared for each other through their actions.

“He might have had a silver tongue for conversation, but it was gold at kissing.”

The storyline of Knot seemed to flow so effortlessly. Everything about these two and what they were going through felt natural to who they were. There was a push and pull, give and take feel to their story, but I can’t imagine it being any other way given their personalities. Mabie is a master at building up the angst, creating a ball in the pit of your stomach just waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop. She has done it in the past, and she has succeeded at it again. Somehow though, she always leaves me coming back for more. Her writing is addicting, mouthwatering, and steamy to the core! She’s combined witty dialogue with fun banter, sex and romance. Knot is the first book in a new series, but if it’s any indication of the direction she is headed, count me as first in line to grab them as they release!


Knot 2



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.

Knot 4

Book Links

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Don’t Miss the Upcoming Books in the Series!

Tide (Wake Family, #2)

Add to Goodreads

Fluke (Wake Family, #3)

Add to Goodreads

Keel (Wake Family, #4)

Add to Goodreads

Compass (Wake Family, #5)

Add to Goodreads

Knot 3

Author Bio

M. Mabie lives in Illinois with her husband. 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. She promises.

Author Links

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