It’s Rainbow Advent Calendar time! Want to find some yummy books to quench your thirst for reading?

My contribution is below. It’s a short bonus scene featuring Leslie Tiberius Scott and Laverne Debussy-Smith from Suit Yourself, book 3 in my men of London series.

You can read the full story here and you can also download a copy at the link at the end of the post, in case you want to keep it on your e-reader.

Leslie Scott is tasked with putting on a small, intimate event by his boss, the inimitable and fierce Laverne Debussy-Smith. A small mishap at the party leaves Leslie thinking he’s about to get the proverbial kick up the arse. However, friendship is forever, and in typical gracious fashion, Laverne is the one to save the day.

 Santa Balls and deer cock. This is a right fuck up.

Leslie tried to stay calm as he saw what should have been a majestic four-foot-tall ice sculpture of a Christmas tree slowly evolve into what looked like a giant, pointed dildo. The rapidly melting visual nightmare mocked him, making him unusually speechless as it dripped icy water off the points of the tree. The melting menace was supposed to be a highlight of the evening, not an abomination.

Thank fuck it’s in a container or there’d be water everywhere.

Leslie had been asked by a best friend and his boss, Laverne Debussy-Smith, to plan a small, but elegant get together at a small boutique hotel, to raise funds for one of her favourite charities, Crisis. They helped the homeless find shelter and jobs and it was a cause close to her—and Leslie’s—heart.

Beside him, his fiancé, Oliver, had his hand over his mouth, no doubt suppressing peals of laughter. His broad shoulders shook—wow, he looks epic in that suit, Leslie thought dreamily—then realised he was supposed to be mad.

“You dare laugh, and I will cut all your ties in half when you sleep,” Leslie hissed. He put his hands on his hips and swivelled to glare over at the unfortunate harbinger of sexual objects.

“I swear, it looked perfect when I left,” his friend Eddie gabbled, his gaze flitting around the room, no doubt searching nervously for his older, tougher boyfriend Gideon as support. “I did everything Martin told to me, and when I got here, it looked like…” he waved a hand at the sculpture, “that.”

Oliver cleared his throat, his eyes wet with tears of laughter. “Babe, I told you – you get what you pay for. And Monsieur Martin La Plus never struck me as a go to kind of guy. I mean, he had an office in the back street of Soho, and you had to go through a souvenir shop to get there.”

“He came highly recommended,” Leslie shot back—did his local cleaner count as someone he could really have trusted with such an important decision? — “and the budget for this little gathering wasn’t exactly anything I could do much with.” He waved around the room at the sparkling Christmas ‘extravaganza’ around him and sighed heavily. “Was it too much to ask that this charity drive event just, for once, go smoothly?”

Oliver moved over and planted a soft kiss on Leslie’s lips. “Sweetheart, it’s all going swimmingly, apart from this one lapse.”

Leslie had to admit it was. The room looked exquisite with the décor and the canapes, and the people milling around smiling and chatting were obviously having a good time.  He supposed he should be thankful—

“Oh, my blue balls, what the everlasting fuckity fuck do we have here?”

Leslie winced as the identifiable vocals of his boss echoed around the room, causing quite a stir as everyone stopped talking and looked over. Just what he hadn’t wanted – attention to his failure. Laverne would never ask him to organise another party again.

He sighed and turned to face the music.

Laverne waved a gloved hand in the direction of the sorry looking tree. “Darling, what a wonderful idea!”

Leslie stared at Laverne nervously. That hadn’t been the reaction he’d expected from his friend. He’d expected histrionics, fireworks, and a lot of bad language. Was she teasing him? Lulling him into a sense of false security only to lambast him with regal barbed words?

Laverne wafted over in an essence of expensive perfume—amber and jasmine—and gestured at the sadly, rapidly wilting tree. Her eyes glinted with mirth, and behind them, Leslie saw the other person behind Laverne – his friend Lenny Brown, fashion designer extraordinaire, cross dresser and part time drag queen. Laverne waved a hand over at a tall, handsome man who was watching the situation with amusement. He raised his glass to Leslie with a grin. Laverne’s other half was very used to her antics by now.

“Brook, darling, look at this. Leslie’s got us a rather unusual cold-water dispenser, wonderful for all those bitches on diet and the ones who don’t like champagne.” Her tone made it quite clear what she thought of those people. Laverne glided over to the adjacent table, picked up a wine glass then scooped the glass into the container, and raised it to her ruby red lips. There was a murmur of surprise from other in the room, then one by one, others came over and did the same thing. It seemed ice cold water was a bit of a thing nowadays with the beautiful people.

“Help yourselves,” Laverne said merrily as she winked at Leslie and made her way over to her boyfriend. “There’s plenty to spare.”

Oliver chuckled loudly. “That woman is amazing,” he whispered. “She could turn shit into soup.”

Leslie wrinkled his nose at the rather crude statement. “She is Laverne Debussy Smith,” he pointed out as the ice sculpture became a drinking fountain. “And trust her to put a positive spin on things.” He grinned, feeling relief now that the catastrophe was over, and rectified with aplomb. It seemed his dire misgivings had been a tad over dramatic. It was who he was, after all. “Now what say you and I hunt down those trays of Prosecco, and we enjoy the rest of the night?” He licked his lips lasciviously and Oliver’s gaze grew heated. “Then I promise we’ll celebrate later in true Leslie Tiberius Scott style. Just how we like it.”

Oliver inclined his head. “After you, gorgeous. I like your style.”

Leslie grinned to himself. I’m sure you’ll love my style more later he promised his boyfriend silently as they headed for the server with the tray. Doggy style, missionary, reverse cowboy…I’m the King of Style, baby, and don’t you forget it.

You can download this little story with the cover here


It brings you some wonderful holiday stories each day of the event, so make sure to follow. You can find the master list of the stories here and join the Facebook group, too.

If you want to read the series, or the book where this all started, then look no further. I’m proud to say this series recently won two awards with Pageturner – Finalist in Best Series, and Overall Winner in the Romance genre category.  Click the link in the image.

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