Blog Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway:
My Own Private Biscuit
By Dann Hazel
Toby enjoys a success beyond his wildest dreams: The first chair trumpeter with the New York Philharmonic Orchestra. In New York, he earns a good living doing what he loves the most. Yet, he suffers from a nagging feeling that something is missing. The Manhattan lifestyle is great, but his romantic life consists mostly of Grindr hookups. A summer tour of the South finds Toby in Asheville, North Carolina—his childhood home and still the home of a certain high school crush. Abruptly, he stumbles on the news that this high-school crush is married to someone else. Then, yet another discovery: There just might be a glimmer of hope. But even if things work out between them, how can they blend two lives separated by a dozen years and seven hundred miles? Can Toby ever hope to claim his own private Biscuit?
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Tobias Jacobsen, clad only in a towel knotted about his waist, stood before a large mirror above the sink. Carefully, he raked his razor across the right side of his face. He wanted to make sure his appearance matched the auspiciousness of tonight’s event.
Tonight’s performance would be the first of the truncated summer season. He was not disturbed at all by the light case of nerves he was experiencing now. He learned long ago—back in high school, in fact—that feeling a bit of an edge before a concert was almost always a prescient sign of a good performance to follow. A few of his fellow musicians—his roommate included—seemed surprised that, after eight years with the New York Philharmonic, the jitters still held sway over Toby—at least until the end of the opening piece.
“Really, Toby, it makes no sense to me,” Sabine Dietrich said. Sabine was his friend, colleague and roomie with whom he split the twenty-eight hundred dollar per month rent on the two-bedroom apartment they shared in SoHo. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard a better trumpeter anywhere. You don’t have anything to be nervous about.”
Toby, who looked younger than his current age of thirty-two, blushed at Sabine’s compliment. Certainly, he would never disparage or discount his own talent. When he began taking lessons back in middle school, it was generally recognized among his peers that he possessed a natural aptitude for the trumpet. Other high school musicians envied the favor he received from the woman who doubled as both band director and orchestra conductor during his attendance at Asheville High School. And while he loved New York City, his home now, and its constant, frenetic current of airborne electricity, he never quite recovered from having to leave his adopted hometown of breathtaking hills, gorgeous green valleys and quirky but friendly citizens.
His shave complete, he snapped his towel away from his private area, as his mother called it when he was a little boy, and stepped into his gray Gildan boxer briefs. His recently-acquired tattoo of a treble clef emerging above the elastic waistband to the right side of his belly button (an “innie”) often served as a hot enticement during sexual encounters with friends or strangers, their curious eyes drawn to the musical symbol first and then to his “love symbol,” arising from a tuft of auburn pubic hair.
Toby wasn’t exactly a full-on ginger, but he was damn close.
Before getting into formal drag by dressing himself in a black tux, he admired his chest and torso, not unlike many narcissistically inclined ( and maybe those with poor body image, too ) males. No sagging pecs on this hot fella, Toby thought as a cocky smile crossed his lips. Like any self-respecting New York gay man, he kept an active gym membership—and actually used it, too. His dark areolas (with semi-erect gumdrop nipples) were surrounded on three sides by a field of reddish hair. However, not a single lock appeared below his nipples—just a fine, muscular abdomen as firm as the pecs above. A trail of darkening hair began a thin creep from an area a few inches below his chest and kept thickening until tufts of hair circled his navel like a cloak.
He glanced at the sunburst wall clock on his bedroom wall—the first annoying instrument he saw upon waking each morning. Immediately, he realized his need to hustle. As though reading his thoughts, Sabine called through his bedroom door: “Ready for an assist with your bowtie?”
“Give me just a minute, please.”
God, how he hated that thing! A real black tie, which was required rather than the much more convenient clip-on. However, the good maestro had invested ten minutes maligning the easy one, ending her tirade this way: “If I ever see you wearing a fake bowtie, you will be fined one hundred dollars per infraction.”
Enter the Giveaway:
To celebrate the release of My Own Private Biscuit, Dann is giving away 2 paperback copies of the upcoming release!
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About the Author:
Dann Hazel has been writing both fiction and nonfiction for more than twenty years. Besides writing, he has taught English on the high school level and psychology and human sexuality on the college level. His fiction genre interests include thrillers, literary, horror and gay romance.
Personal interests include snuggling up with a good book, writing, cinema, running, Broadway, current events and travel.
Dann lives in Central Florida with his husband, Josh, and their American Eskimo dog, Flurry.
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