Novels by J. S. Lindsay

Tallis’s confession sparks Corven’s rage, unaware that Kaelith already knows the dark secrets he’s been hiding. Brace yourself—next chapter, the fallout begins.

I walked the fifteen-minute journey in six. My legs carried me before my mind could catch up, everything was a blur. People called out questions about Papa’s health as I rushed past, but I didn’t stop. I didn’t even look at them. Their voices were soft echoes chasing me down the road, fading before they could reach me.I was angry. Angry at myself. Angry that I let Veylor kiss me again. Angry that I almost gave myself to him like I had no sense at all. Thank goodness it didn't happen behind closed doors—or I would never forgive myself.“What was I even thinking?” I muttered. “Or no, what was he thinking? That I’m twenty-four and stupid?”My voice rose slightly as I walked faster. “It’s obvious he… he just wants to get into my panties. That’s all. And there he was, making promises with that stupid camera around his neck and those hypnotizing dimples—”I kept mumbling until the herb shop appeared ahead. I hadn’t noticed Corven standing at the entrance, arms folded, eyes narrowed, like h

Hi, and welcome to STRANGER ATTRACTION. This is Kaelith’s story. A girl found in the woods with no memory, no past, and no name except the one given to her by the wind. She has a father she would give her life for, but her family… they are not all on her side. Her brothers want her in ways she can’t ignore, a stranger has eyes only for her, and everyone in her small town seems to have a stake in her life. This story is messy, dangerous, and impossible to walk away from. Secrets will be revealed, loyalties will be tested, and love will strike when she least expects it. Step into Kaelith’s world—but be ready, because nothing here is safe. —J. S. Lindsay

The footsteps grew heavier. Each step made the tiny stick in my hand feel useless, but I held it with both hands anyway and raised it above my head. I wasn’t about to take any chances. The moment the footsteps reached me, I closed my eyes tight and swung the stick down with everything in me. But it never landed. It stopped in midair. I struggled, pushing down with all my strength, but something held it firmly. My left eye opened first, just enough to peek. And then I heard it—laughter. Veylor Caith. With that stupid camera hanging around his neck. I opened my second eye and tried to compose myself, even though the stick was still suspended in his grip. He held it effortlessly, his laughter growing as he pointed at my face. “I wish you saw your face earlier. Scaredy cat.” “Don’t call me that,” I fumed, trying to yank the stick free. It snapped in two. His laughter doubled. “Easy, tigress. You don’t need that.” I let the broken stick fall, dusted my hands, and turned to wal

I sat beside Papa’s bed, watching him carefully as he adjusted his pillow. My fingers brushed against the rough skin of his hand.He was fifty-six now, and every line on his face told the story of a man who had lived hard and loved harder. Even behind the faint smile he always gave me, I could see the weight of his pain.Losing Mama six years ago had changed him completely. Her death wasn’t sudden. It came from an old injury that worsened day by day. At first, Corven’s herbs helped a little, easing her pain and allowing her to move without wincing too much. But soon, her body became resistant. Nothing we did could save her.Now, I could see the same thing beginning to happen to Papa.After Mama died, it felt as if a part of him had died too. His body weakened, his spirit dimmed, and for the first time, I realized how much he had relied on her care. Corven’s herbs still helped, giving him strength and easing the pain, but I could see his body starting to resist them, just as Mama’s had

I sped home, not caring how many people I bumped into along the way. I knew there were many. People shouted behind me, but nothing mattered at that moment. I pushed forward, weaving through the road until I reached home.I froze when I saw the crowd gathered in front of our house—mostly elders. In our community, it was an old tradition: when an elder was fighting for life or had already passed, the others would surround the home.I stood still for a moment. Tears pushed forward without waiting for permission, streaming down my face.“Where’s my papa? What’s going on with my papa?” I whispered as I walked toward them, each step slower than the last.Before I could take another breath, something inside me snapped. My legs moved faster than my thoughts, and I surged forward, trying to reach the door.Strong hands caught me before I could get there.“Leave me!” I cried, thrashing against them. “Let me go inside! I need to see him!”One of the elders tightened his grip. “You cannot go in,