The Ugliest Sweater
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About this ebook
Dan’s favourite festive sweater is so ugly, it’s cost him not one but three boyfriends and sent him back to his parents’ place for the third Christmas in a row. About to give up hope of ever having a Christmas date, Dan meets Jake, a hot guy with a rock and roll edge. Jake is infatuated with Dan’s sweater but vanishes before Dan can decide if Jake is for real or really in need of an eye-check. After all, no one has ever liked the sweater.
Dan’s sweater is rocketed to national attention, when Jake’s radio colleagues launch a hunt for the mystery man in the hideous jumper. Dan jumps at the chance to meet Jake again, and they hit it off in a big way, to the accompaniment of intimate gigs, exclusive clubs, and the paparazzi. Dan falls hard, but despite obvious mutual attraction, Jake refuses to take him back to his apartment. Is the relationship real – or a ratings stunt? After all, Jake has a reputation for cool that Dan, a lowly gym instructor, could never approach. Is a fondness for tacky Christmas clothing the only thing they have in common? Or does uber-cool Jake hide a Christmas secret of his own?
The Ugliest Sweater contains adult content suitable for mature readers only.
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The Ugliest Sweater - Gillian St. Kevern
Table of Contents
The Ugliest Sweater
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
About the Author
Coming Soon from Gillian St. Kevern
NineStar Press, Ltd.
The Ugliest Sweater
Gillian St. Kevern
Acknowledgements
The Ugliest Sweater would not exist if Faith had not encouraged me to go for it. Thank you , Faith!
Chapter One
Absolutely not.
Aston stood in the kitchen doorway, wearing Abercrombie and Fitch and an expression of disgust.
Dan looked over his shoulder and swallowed. Morning,
he started.
Don’t ‘morning’ me.
Aston’s eyes flashed.
Dan had spent the week psyching himself up for this, but he still took a step back. When riled, Aston could be very sarcastic.
Have you lost your goddamn mind?
That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?
Dan looked down at himself. It’s only a sweater.
Aston snorted. That is ‘only a sweater’ the same way the Titanic was a bit of a wreck.
Dan forced a laugh. You can’t compare a sweater to an actual tragedy.
That sweater is an actual tragedy. Honestly, Dan. Have you gone blind?
Dan smoothed his hand over the sweater. It was three different shades of red, five of green, and two of brown. The knitter had been unable to choose between subtly seasonal Shetland techniques or boldly pledging their allegiance to all things Santa, so had combined both. It was a seasonal train wreck in garment form. Even his dad, widely acknowledged as having absolutely no taste in anything, blanched at the sweater. I quite like it.
Aston shut his eyes and shuddered. His white T-shirt was far too lightweight for London weather, but it showed off his tan (thirty pounds for ten minutes at a salon off Earls Court). How could you do this to me?
I’m not asking you to wear it!
No.
Aston folded his arms. I am not dating a man who is willing to be seen looking like something a reindeer puked up.
Dan steeled himself. It’s me and the sweater, or not at all.
* * * * *
And that’s how I ended up moving back to my parents’ a few weeks before Christmas.
Dan put his change down on the counter. The sad thing is they were expecting me. I show up on the doorstep, my car full of boxes, and all Dad says is, ‘a bit early this year, isn’t it, son?’
Dan shrugged. I have been dumped three Christmases in a row.
The cashier was staring at his sweater, fascinated.
Dan cleared his throat.
Her gaze jerked up, a guilty flush spreading across her face. I’m sorry, I zoned out. Could you repeat your order?
Dan sighed. Gingerbread latte with soy milk. Grande size. Have here.
Coming right up.
Her fingers rattled across the cash register with confidence. Pick up from the counter.
Dan had moved towards the counter before he realised she’d forgotten to ask his name. He looked back, but the middle-aged woman who had taken his place was giving him a look of approbation. Dan leaned against the wall near the counter, tugging at the sweater’s collar. As a fitness instructor at a large gym, he was used to being stared at—just not like this. The two suited businessmen had paused their intent argument, while the cool guy in the blazer had pushed up his sunglasses to get a better look. The group of teenagers probably thought they were being discreet, but the sheer amount of nudging and glances sent his way made their scrutiny clear.
Dan scratched his chin. Should have got the coffee to go.
Gingerbread sweater! I mean—
The server froze, looking down at the cup she held. Really ugly latte!
Someone laughed, trying to disguise it as a cough. Then, everyone was coughing. Dan grabbed his tray, making his way to the back of the Starbucks as quickly as possible. Goddamnit, he hated Starbucks! Too expensive, loaded with calories, and the coffee wasn’t even that good! He was setting his training programme back an entire week just stepping in the door. If it wasn’t for the seasonal menu… Cursed gingerbread lattes!
Um.
Dan looked up.
The guy with the sunglasses stood in front of his table. His tray trembled in his hands. I couldn’t help but notice you are wearing clothes.
Yeah.
Dan nodded. So are you.
Really nice clothes, actually. Blazer, silk T-shirt, skinny jeans, and boots. It looked casual, but the outfit would have set Dan back a few weeks’ salary—and made him look ridiculous. This guy pulled it off in a malnourished rock star way.
What he wasn’t pulling off? Speaking. The guy took a deep breath and stalled, mouth working but nothing coming out.
Are you all right?
Dan started to worry. The sweater tended to have an effect on people, but this was the first time it had caused hyperventilation. Here, sit down.
He took the tray out