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Allee giggled again and wriggled slightly, feeling Noah’s hard cock pressed against her lower back.
“Later, you can be as bad as you want, but for now, let’s just get me to where I can move without even my hair hurting!”
Noah relaxed back in his chair, his eyes following Allee as she walked back through the door holding the dessert she’d promised. Now she stood as their friends oohed and ahhed over her the enormous vanilla ice cream cake, filled and decorated with raspberries and smashed up Maltesers. It was a perfect end to what had been a hot and sticky weekend, and Noah knew that Allee had a smaller one stashed back in the freezer at their home.
Home.
His house was no longer empty of people or belongings. He had willingly turned it over to Allee and Piddle, their welcome invasion filling that gaping hole inside of his heart and soul. They were his home now, and they held everything he adored and dreamed for in their hands and paws. No longer did he feel like an outsider looking in, like he would never belong like he was disconnected from everyone else. They had pulled him in, wrapping him in themselves, linking him back into the outside world. There was only one thing left to do, one thread left hanging, and he was about to weave that back where it belonged. He looked around at his friends, who had been there for him and Allee, and knew it was time.
Noah knelt behind Allee on one knee, reaching his hand into his pocket for the velvet box he’d stashed there. He called her name, and as she turned to face him, he pulled out the box and opened it to display a beautiful ring, the round-cut diamond sitting between two smaller, pear-cut diamonds like a flower between two leaves. Her hands flew up to cover a gasp as Noah uttered the words he’d been holding in for what felt like forever.
“Allee, will you marry me?”
Thank you, dear reader, I hope you enjoyed my book, and if you did, please consider leaving a review, or even recommend it to your friends or fellow book-lovers. If you have ever experienced anything like Allee, Noah, or Charlie, please know that you aren’t alone, that help is out there, and there is no shame in asking for that help if you need it.
If you need to seek help for abuse, you can contact the following organisations:
Aus: 1800Respect – www.1800respect.org.au
MensLine Australia – mensline.org.au
UK: Refuge – www.nationaldahelpline.org.uk
ManKind Initiative – www.mankind.org.uk
US: National Domestic Violence Hotline – www.thehotline.org
About M.F.Moody
M.F. Moody writes Contemporary, Fantasy, and Paranormal Romance novels. She has a vivid and active imagination, and has used writing as an outlet during some very tumultuous times in her lifetime. She is often blunt to the point of brutality, has a dark and warped sense of humour, has absolutely no filter, and aspires to the giddy heights of the gutter. She is also a survivor of domestic abuse, depression, and anxiety, and tries to use her experiences to become a better person, as well as help others.
M.F. Moody is married to a VERY understanding man, and together they have an 8-year old son, 3 cats, and apparently WAAAAY too many books and alcohol, especially as she’s the only one who drinks. Although really, is there such a thing as having too many books? And as for the alcohol, well, she’s Australian. They live in a little corner of Kent in the UK, and she enjoys confusing the locals with her accent and colloquialisms, reading, coffee, wine, reading, baking, sleeping, and did we mention reading?
You can find M.F. Moody below:
Website: www.mfmoodybooks.com
Facebook Group: The Temperamental Bookwyrms
Disconnect Spotify Playlist:
spotify.com/playlist/Disconnect
Caress My…
M.K. MOORE
Chapter One
GWEN HALSTEAD
I feel like I'm on fire right now. I met the man of my dreams last night, and it figures I'm too young to do anything about it right now. Right when I need to. Now we're arguing in a coat closet, and all I want him to do is kiss me, but he can't. He's a detective with the Boston Police Department. He'd never do anything to jeopardize that, no matter how much I might want him to. And God, do I want him to. Need him to.
"I thought I told you last night you were mine, Gwen. Mine. I'll wait forever to have you, but don't tempt me into action by flirting with waiters. That motherfucker is out there thinking he has a chance with you. Little girls get into trouble when they play with fire."
"You're one to talk about flirting, you asshole. I saw you talking to that woman. And I'm not a little girl, Wesley," I reply, seething. Okay, so I am a super-jealous girl. I didn’t know that, but the woman was my exact opposite, and I didn’t like it. I staked my claim, and he’s mine, even if I can’t prove it yet.
"You are for another ninety-one days, six hours and twenty minutes," he answers after looking at his watch. "And you know my name isn't Wesley, tigress. You should also know that woman was my cousin Sylvia." His name is Westmeath, but Wesley really pisses him off. Why do I know this about him? Why do I feel like I know everything about him? Why do I love him so much after only knowing him for one day? I know all this because we talked all night after last night's rehearsal dinner. We sat on my parent’s front porch and talked about everything under the sun, well, under the moon. Our hopes, dreams, plans for the future, all of it. When he looks at me, he doesn't see the chubby girl nobody wants to be friends with, he sees me, and he likes what he sees. His tuxedo pants don't leave a lot to the imagination; he really likes what he sees. I know that weighs heavily on him because he can’t actually do anything about it.
