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.
Marcy Margate is married to a geek named Jess Margate. Marcy is worried about her marriage to her geeky love because loving a geek is very different from her previous relationships.
Since their love life has slowed, Marcy wonders if Jess is cheating on her. Marcy misses her wild sex days before she married Jess whose loving is sweet and gentle. Marcy sets out to prove that Jess is having an affair. Is Jess having an affair? Will Marcy get her wild sex back? What is Jess hiding from Marcy? Your answers await in Geekus Interruptus.
Geekus Interruptus is such a sweet and amazing book. It explores a side of romance that is often left in the dust by many authors who tend to be more mainstream as far as writing goes.
I simply adored Marcy's inner dialogue. Jess proves to be an alpha male by taking charge and allowing Marcy her say. I certainly hope this author continues to do books like Geekus Interruptus which inspire me to find my hubby for some special one on one time – if you know what I mean! *fans self*
Until next time. Happy Reading!
"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, taking his index finger and sliding it inside her. "After all, you're only as young as I feel."
He snatched his hand away like her vagina was on fire. Pushing his chair back, he retreated rapidly. His face reddened from anger or arousal. Or something else, something more
threatening to their future. "You never take me seriously, Marcy. You're like a blowup Barbie doll. My brain is turning to mush after so many years of this, this...this total lack of stimulation."
Marcy laughed. Since when was slipping it to your wife over a homemade roast beef dinner lacking in stimulation?
When she kept on snickering, Jess blurted, "I mean mental stimulation, Marcy. Intellectual stimulation."
Her mood darkened. Oh, that.She'd never been good at providing cerebral challenges. Her forte was erotic activation.
Jess stood up and threw down his napkin, letting it land on the bloody roast.
Now Marcy would have to use stain remover. This pissed her off. He was so selfish. How dare he turn up his nose at her carefully prepared dinner? And did he think he was just going to walk away from her now? Insult her by refusing to partake of her primped and powdered, perfectly tanned and toned, totally naked flesh?
When he headed out of the dining room, obviously intending to hide himself in his office, she made an offensive move. She attacked, lunging at him, tackling from behind. They fell together onto the cold hard floor with a grunt (his) and a scream (hers).
"You motherfucker! How dare you insult my food, my body, my brain! I ought to kill you. I think I'll fuck you to death," Marcy yelled. She was out of her mind, flailing her arms, kicking, writhing on top of her husband, who was attempting to buck her off his back without hurting her.
"Calm down," he said in a muffled voice, his face mashed against the Italian marble.
"No! I'm tired of calm. I want wild."
Then she screamed again, thrusting her pelvis against the wrinkled back of his yellow polo shirt until he bellowed like a rodeo steer. She eased up on him, but only enough so he could roll over onto his back.
He stared up at her. His face was unreadable, but his dick was unquestionably hard.
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*book was provided to Read Our Lips! for review by author*