A Festive Feud: A Holiday Romantic Comedy by Maren Moore

Author:Maren Moore [Moore, Maren]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-11-15T16:00:00+00:00

“Dear God, that is absolutely hideous,” Emma says when I walk out of the dressing room, her nose scrunched in distaste. “Please tell me you are not thinking about buying that.”

“Oh baby, it’s coming home with me.” I smirk, doing a full three-sixty so she can see the back, “And you’re getting one too.”

“I’m pretty sure my mother would burn it if I walked in wearing that.” She giggles, her whole face lighting up.

Fuck, I love that sound more than I ever thought I could.

Choosing the ugliest sweater in this place to make her laugh: mission accomplished.

She’s not wrong. It truly is fucking hideous, but then again, isn’t that the point? The uglier, the better.

It’s bright red and covered in sparkly gold tinsel adorned with large green bells that jingle every time I move.

“Go try yours on. I need proof that I actually got Emma Worthington into an ugly sweater,” I say with a wink.

Emma rolls her eyes but stands from the chair across from the dressing room, taking off her suede peacoat and leaving it there. “God, I can’t believe I’m even doing this, but here we go.”

I take a seat in the chair, the bells on the sweater jingling as I do. Okay, it might be a little annoying, but it’s festive as fuck, so I’m keeping it.

Once she’s inside the dressing room, I pull out my phone and open my notifications. It’s been going off nonstop since we left, but aside from a check-in text to let my family know that I was safe after the storm, I haven’t responded.

It’s actually been kind of nice to unplug for a bit, even if it’s only for a weekend. Not something I normally am able to do with how busy my company stays.

“Crap. Jackson?” I hear from the other side of the dressing room door. “Uh, I think my hair is stuck on the tag. Can you, uh, come help me? My hair is stuck in this hideous thing.”

I stand from the chair, pocketing my phone and crossing the room in a few short strides, the fucking bells on the sweater still jingling with each step as I slip inside the dressing room and shut the door as quietly as I can.

Which isn’t very fucking quiet since I’m basically a walking, noise-making Christmas decoration.

Emma’s standing in front of the mirror, her cheeks bright red, a contrast from the green sweater she’s wearing that has a Christmas tree that’s got blinking lights and ornaments and says “GET LIT” across the front.

“Damn, Snowflake. You look hot as fuck.” Reaching up carefully, I gingerly sweep her hair off her neck and untangle the lock of hair that’s wrapped around the tag, freeing her. “Not going to lie, my dick’s getting hard just seeing you look so… festive. Really does it for me,” I tease. I’m joking, but fuck, not really. I am definitely into her like this.

She giggles. “I’ve honestly never felt more ridiculous in my life.”

“Nah. You look good enough to eat, Snowflake.

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