I have a thing for nerds, what can I say? Doesn't this little novella look adorable? Yes I do. This will be re-releasing on September 15th! If you are interested in the read, enter the giveaway and contact the author.
Marcy Margate has it all: she's young, rich, and built like Barbie. She isn't the brightest bulb in the chandelier, but the girl's got sass and spunk to spare. Plus, she's sizzling hot. When her marriage to a real live genius starts to dim and grow cool, she's tempted to fool around with the horny neighbor. It would be so simple to revert to her former loose, single-gal ways, so easy to take the sleazy way out.
But Marcy loves her husband, even if Jess Margate is from the planet of the nerds. She decides to play it smart for a change. Using spyware and creative strategy, she plots to find out why her geek has been interruptus. Armed with the latest in miniature technology, Marcy plans to uncover the cause for the downtime in their love life.
A modern romantic comedy of hot errors and hotter apologies, Geekus Interruptus is a story for our time. Because these days, nerds rule. And geeks have guilty pleasures too--some quite different than our own.
At dinner Sunday night, Jess ate quietly, his eyes downcast. He pushed his boiled red potatoes around with a fork and avoided the broccoli casserole entirely. A thick slice of roast beef (rare, the way he liked it) sat untouched, bleeding into a pool in the center of his dinner plate.
"How's work going?" Marcy asked.
She was hesitant to chatter about her day like she usually did, for fear of blurting out her recent spy activities or demanding he tell her what the fuck he was up to. Her nerves were on the edge of something. A dangerous something that could easily blow her cover. So she tried to make small talk and found herself unable to ask her husband a single leading question about his recent work. Like, How's the X account? Or, Did you complete the Y software design? Over the last year or so, she hadn't taken much interest in the details of Jess's work life. And it showed.
"Slow," he replied. "Maybe I'm over the crest."
He stabbed an innocent chunk of potato and brought it to his mouth before setting it back on the plate where he seemed to think it belonged.
"What crest? What're you talking about?"
He looked at her, or maybe through her.
"What I mean, Marce," he said slowly, as if talking to a dimwitted child, "is when you hit a certain age, you no longer come up with worthwhile innovations. Your brain is incapable of making the connections required for new leaps in design. In the field of mathematics, this brick wall to creativity can appear by the time you turn thirty. I'm afraid software engineering's a young man's game."
She laughed but stopped abruptly when she realized he was serious. Cresting at thirty? It seemed a ridiculous concern for a brilliant man like Jess.
"I'm not kidding, Marce. And there's plenty of scientific research on brain development to back up what I'm saying. I've got maybe ten years left, then I'll be fully over the hill. While the youngsters fresh off their post-docs take over the world."
He popped a potato chunk into his mouth, then thought better of it and spit into his linen napkin. Geeks had the worst table manners. She'd had to learn to live with it.
Marcy reached for his hand and covered it with her own.
"I'm sure you have plenty of genius left in you, darling," she said.
In fact, she had no doubt. The idea he was washed up at thirty-one was nonsense. Was it this sort of crazy thinking that had propelled him into the arms of another woman? Was he suffering from decaying self-esteem, bizarre geek phobias, some sort of engineer's block?
An idea formed in her mind. Wouldn't hot sex with his devoted wife help boost his deflation? Couldn't the old in-and-out be a kind of cure for his work-related depression?
She stood up and posed, pushing her breasts and ass into pre-coital position, moving her hips back and forth, swaying gently just beyond his nose. Jess continued to stare blankly at his bloody beef.
Marcy sucked in her breath. She hated being turned down. It was totally humiliating. But Jess seemed to be in need of a good fucking. Maybe she could win back his attention using the old tricks. She swallowed her pride and prepared for action.
Slowly, loudly, dramatically, she unzipped her tennis skirt, daring him to glance over. His eyes drifted to her hips, then up to her face. Marcy smiled, licking her lips and pouting as she dropped the little white skirt to the floor. She thrust out her chest and, quickly now, lifted her tight, white T-shirt over her head. No bra, no panties, recently waxed, glistening with coconut oil, and doused liberally with Truth or Dare. She walked to him, watching as he stared glumly at her approach.
"Maybe this will make you feel young again," she said.
ADD TO - > GOODREADS
About The Author
Originally from Boston, Mickey J. Corrigan lives and writes and gets into trouble in South Florida. The tropics provide a lush, steamy setting for hot romance and Florida pulp.
Mickey's stories have appeared in several anthologies and online publications. Novellas include: the cyber romance Dream Job (Breathless Press, 2012), which has been compared to The Matrix and the Twilight Zone; Professional Grievers, a romantic comedy that highlights love affairs at funerals and wakes (Breathless Press, 2013); BabyShares, a quirky financial crime romance (Secret Cravings Press, 2013); Me Go Mango, which combines girls gone wild with some delicious mango recipes (Champagne Books, 2013). Sugar Babies, a novel, is a sexy thriller to be released by Champagne Books in November.