Sebastian Torres is a healer and midwife both by trade and by calling. He’s spent the past three years as the only male midwife in a local hospital.

Anthony Craig is intrigued by Sebastian, finding him professional and attractive; although, he can’t help wondering why Sebastian never dates the same man twice.

When several pregnant women die in maternity wards a few states away, their fetuses missing, the police are baffled at the strange circumstances surrounding their deaths.

Could there be a serial killer on the loose?

As the number of deaths escalates, Sebastian suspects a monster of legend, rather than one of the human variety, is responsible.

Sebastian knows he is the only thing standing in the monster’s way, but in order to save innocent lives he must reveal his secret to Anthony.

Will Sebastian’s revelation prove too much and drive Anthony away?






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THE PREGNANT WOMAN lay sleeping, an IV line in one arm and oxygen prongs attached to her nose. Her moans of pain worried her husband, but the midwife monitoring her vitals seemed satisfied with the numbers. The magnesium drip effectively controlled the premature contractions, and the fetal monitor indicated all was good with the baby.

“She’s going to be okay, Mr. Carstairs. Linda is doing well, so is the baby. Why don’t you go home and rest for a bit. There’s nothing more you can do right now. She’ll sleep through the night,” the midwife said.

“If she’s doing well, why is she moaning as if she’s in pain?” he asked. They had been married for eight short months and this whole pregnancy issue was beginning to wear down his sanity.

“Well, she’s not in pain, the baby is active, and her vitals have much improved compared to when she was first admitted. She’s fine. She’s probably just worried about her baby, and she may also be reacting to your anxiety.”

At her words, the OB-GYN came in and assessed his patient’s condition. The young husband stayed quiet and gave a sigh of relief when the doctor turned his way with a smile.

“Well, are you prepared for Linda to remain in our lovely, luxurious hospital, Tom?” the doctor said, sounding confident. “She may have to stay for some time, but it’s for the best. This way, we can monitor both her and the baby’s condition, and we would be able to take her out if need be.”

Tom groaned at the thought of the medical bills, but felt reassured of his wife’s condition. “I really don’t care how much it takes, doctor, if it means they’re both safe. I’ll just have to find the money for anything the insurance doesn’t cover.”

“All right then. So, we’ll see you tomorrow and assess how much Linda has improved. We only have a short two weeks to guarantee the baby’s lungs will be viable. Before you know it, you’ll be a daddy.”

Tom knew the doctor, and could tell he loved him and Linda like they were his own. He had stood as a godparent to Linda when she was baptized. There was no way he would do anything to risk her and the baby’s health.

“Thank you, Uncle Adam,” Tom said, dropping the title for once. He stood and kissed Linda on the cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetheart. I’ll make sure to bring you your favorites. I love you.” With a last peck on her cheek and a pat on her hand, he left the room.

IT WAS TWO in the morning and the halls were quiet save for the beeps and whirs of machines. Doors were left open so the nursing and midwife staff of the maternity ward could hear anything that went on inside their patients’ rooms, even if their station was equipped with the latest technology to monitor the vitals of each patient.

Three midwives and two nurses were laughing at something one of the first-year residents said when they heard the emergency alarm from the monitor assigned to Linda Carstairs. They all rushed to the room, ready to do whatever they could to help the woman. The midwife in charge of Linda’s case ground to a halt when she reached the open doorway only a few feet from their station. Eyes wide in shock, she let out a spine-chilling scream.

Linda lay in bed, the IV still in her arm and her oxygen prongs in place. She appeared as if asleep. The only thing wrong with the picture was the flat line on the heart monitor and the fact that her once protruding, eight-months-pregnant stomach looked crooked and soft. There was no blood on the sheets. Minutes later, the midwife still couldn’t stop screaming, and one of the residents rushed to sedate her, in a bid to keep her sane.



JO TANNAH is a wife, mother, and blogger by day, writer by night. It can be difficult to say the least but it is a challenge that keeps her on her toes.

She grew up listening to folktales her father and nannies spun to either entertain the children or send home a message. These narratives stayed with Jo until she finally decided to write them down in a journal way back when she kept one. Years later, going through junk led to finding a long forgotten box and nestled within it was the journal. Reading over the stories of romance, science fiction, and horror that she had taken time to put to paper all those years before brought to light the realization that they were tales she’d never come across in her readings.

The tales Jo write are fictional but all of them are based on what she grew up with and still dreams about. That they have an M/M twist is simply for her pleasure. And she hopes, yours as well.

Jo Tannah can be found at:






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