Dangerous Consequences by Lisa Renee Johnson
“Hold on for the ride of your life…with unimaginable consequences.” ‑‑Mary B. Morrison
Debut author Lisa Renee Johnson delivers an edgy, sexy novel about a man who has it all—until one night changes everything…
Dubbed the “ Sex Doctor” on his local radio show, psychologist Donathan James advises callers on their sexual issues. With his gorgeous and brilliant neurosurgeon wife, Sydney, at home and women flirting with the hot doctor everywhere he goes, Donathan is living the high life. But when he wakes up naked and drugged in a hotel room, with no memory of the evening before, the doctor suddenly has problems of his own.
Soon, Donathan’s sexy stalker is sending him photographic evidence of what they did that night, turning up in his office to rant about her unstable past, and demanding they meet again and again. All Donathan wants is his life back—and for his wife not to find out. But when the relentless stranger goes too far, it leads him to discover his beloved wife has secrets of her own. Now, to save their marriage, Mr. and Mrs. James will have to hold on tight to survive the bumpiest ride of their lives.
Praise for Dangerous Consequences
“Dangerous Consequences by Lisa Renee Johnson, Waiting to Exhale meets Fatal Attraction! Johnson makes a stunning debut with a well-written, fast-paced, suspenseful novel full of engaging, realistic characters and dramatic twists at every turn. Readers will be engaged until the shocking end, but not to worry – book two is in the works.” —RTBookReviews, 4 Stars
“Hold on for the ride of your life . . . with unimaginable consequences.” —Mary B. Morrison
“An edgy tale eager to be told. The pace is blazing hot!” —Victor McGlothin
“A fast-paced, suspense-filled, dramatic curve ball that will keep you turning the pages.” —Sistah Friend Book Club
Purchase Dangerous Consequences by Lisa Renee Johnson
Excerpt: Dangerous Consequences by Lisa Renee Johnson
Dr. Sydney Marie James panicked as her iPhone slipped out of her grasp and landed on the floor close to the front passenger door.
“Shit!” she yelled. She could hear the exchange operator’s distant voice saying, “Hello? Hello?” But short of unlocking her seat belt and climbing across the seat to retrieve the phone, there was nothing she could do. She was en route to Children’s Hospital, initially on her way to work, but now she was responding to the trauma call she’d just received for an infant who needed immediate neurosurgery. Frustrated, she yelled into the confines of her SUV.
“Hello. This is Dr. James. I’ve dropped my iPhone and can’t pick it up because I’m driving. But I’m on my way and should arrive at the hospital in about fifteen minutes.” She had no idea whether the operator could hear her, but it was worth a try. The traffic ahead crawled along. Morning commuters on their way to work congested the I-580 inlet that would take her toward downtown Oakland, making traffic a nightmare.
“Come on.” Sydney hissed and blew her horn in irritation. Fresh perspiration trickled down her spine and mingled with the aging sweat from her morning run. She was still dressed in black running tights, Saucony running shoes, and her favorite UCLA sweatshirt. She’d run her usual six-mile route at the Berkeley Marina, with the morning mist plummeting down on her skin and a cluster of squawking seagulls out scavenging for any sign of food lulling her with their singsong pitch, which helped to clear her mind. But that was forty minutes ago, when her world had seemed peaceful and serene . . . before she’d received the emergency call during rush-hour traffic.
She took her eyes off the road for a brief second to search the passenger seat, littered with CDs. She wanted to hear a Ledisi song, the one she’d played while making love to Donathan earlier and during their romantic getaway at the Highlands Inn in Carmel. The soulful music soothed her, which was what she needed on most days while commuting from El Cerrito to Oakland in bumper-to-bumper traffic.
A gap in the blockage opened up. Sydney pushed hard on the accelerator, hoping she wouldn’t run into another obstruction farther ahead. She had no idea which of her colleagues was on duty. It was probably Julia Stevens. But if Julia started surgery on the incoming patient, she would be required to complete it, adding additional hours to her already-long shift. Frantic to reach the hospital, Sydney drove in an unforgiving manner as drivers on either side of her attempted to jump out of their slow-moving lanes and into hers.
“Not today, people!” Sydney bellowed. She accelerated in an attempt to prevent a red Nissan pickup truck carrying lawn care equipment from swerving in front of her.
The traffic came to a sudden halt. Realizing she was about to crash into a sea of stationary cars, Sydney instinctively slammed on the brake pedal with both feet and held her breath as she heard the tires screeching and smelled burning rubber. Her Range Rover came to a complete stop without a collision.
“Thank God,” she exhaled, releasing her tight grip on the steering wheel.
Then the scream of another set of tires, a loud thud, and the sound of shattering glass punched Sydney in the center of her back. Dazed, she moved her damp, dark brown hair out of her eyes and noticed light blue smoke merging with the morning smog, dangerous consequences along with the overpowering odor of overheating antifreeze billowing past her windows. She peered into her rearview mirror and saw a Hispanic man getting out of the red Nissan pickup she’d earlier prevented from cutting in front of her. She watched the man walk to the rear of his truck, reach into the truck bed, and remove a shovel, knocking it against the lawnmowers, the noise loud enough to make her jump.Then he hastily approached her, swinging the shovel at the air.
“Pendeja estupida! I can’t believe you just made me wreck my work truck,” yelled the man in a Spanish accent as thick as the fog that blanketed the San Francisco Bay.
“Get out of the car, you pinche puta!” He slapped Sydney’s car window with the open palm of his thick, callused hand. The contact echoed loudly inside the car.
Intimidated by the force and vulgarity of the man’s anger, Sydney stared at him through the speckles of spit on the glass that separated them. Bulging muscle cords in his neck and trickles of blood running down his forehead and pooling at his neatly trimmed mustache pointed downward to the shovel dangling from his left hand. As bile rose in Sydney’s throat, she attempted to calm down and think rationally. She glanced at the passing commuters, praying for someone to stop to help her. Instead, she found a string of spectators hoping the drama would unfold before they crept by completely and missed it.
“Open the door!” the man blurted as he yanked on the door handle.
Her eyes glanced at the clock, then at the phone. She needed to call for help.
“Get away from my car,” Sydney barked, hoping her angry words would bring the man to his senses.
“I’m not playing around, lady.” The man began jerking on the door so hard her car rocked. She unfastened her seat belt, climbed across the middle console, and retrieved the phone from the floor. She was so nervous that instead of dialing 911, she dialed her husband. He answered after the first ring.
“I must have dicked you down well this—”
“Donathan!” Sydney screamed into the phone.
“Get out of the car, you pinche puta!” The Hispanic man continued his tirade, drifting in and out of his native tongue. Holding the shovel high above his head with both hands, he slammed it into the hood, repeating his assault over and over again.
“Get away from my damn car.” The loud thud of the shovel hitting the hood registered through the phone.
“Sydney, who is that? Where are you?” Donathan demanded.
“I was just rear-ended by this man and he’s—”
“I’m going to mess you up just like you messed up my truck. Get out, pendeja, before I smash your windows.”
Sydney scrambled for her purse on the backseat. She reached inside and pulled out an old canister of pepper spray she’d hoped she’d never have to use.
“Where are you?” Donathan demanded again.
“I-I’m on I-80 about to merge onto 580.” The hood of the truck absorbed another hit from the shovel.
Her eyes went wide as the man shouldered the shovel and paralleled his feet, like he was Barry Bonds readying his swing and his strike zone was now the front windshield of the Range Rover.
“Oh, God, nooo!”
( Continued… )
© 2017 All rights reserved. Book excerpt reprinted by permission of the author, Lisa Renee Johnson. Do not reproduce, copy or use without the author’s written permission. This excerpt is used for promotional purposes only.
Purchase Dangerous Consequences by Lisa Renee Johnson
Surviving the Chase by Lisa Renee Johnson (November 28, 2017)
In this page-turning follow-up to Dangerous Consequences, a serial killer wants revenge—but two surprising people stand in her way . . .
Abandoned by her mother as a kid, Payton Jones wants no reminders of her past and no commitments. She’s beautiful, educated, rich, and gets what she wants—even if her favorite friends-with-benefits, Tony Barnes, is a hot complication. But her life of shopping, spa appointments, and mindless sex is interrupted when the most wanted woman in the Bay area starts hunting for Payton’s estranged mother. Curiosity leads Payton into unfamiliar—and risky—territory.
Psychologist and local radio show host Donathan “Sex Doctor” James almost became a victim of the killer, who bared her every twisted thought to him. He knows she won’t stop until she commits the most personal murder of all. But when his wife’s best friend, Payton Jones—who Donathan isn’t quite sure he can trust—uncovers a shattering connection to the killer, they team up to find her.
Now, surviving the chase puts Donathan’s marriage, career, and life on the line while Payton comes face to face with everything she’s been running from for years . . .
Books by Lisa Renee Johnson
About the Author
LISA RENEE JOHNSON is an author, foodie and closet mixologist!
After co-founding and running a book club for almost two decades, Lisa Renee took the plunge into the world of fiction writing with her debut novel Dangerous Consequences.
Lisa Renee also captured the country’s attention with the hashtag #laughingwhileblack that ignited a media firestorm and prompted global conversations about race, power, privilege and bias. In addition to writing, Lisa Renee, a self-proclaimed Sunshineologist, created the I Got Sunshine movement to inspire women to define success and happiness on their terms. A true sunshine girl at heart, Lisa Renee was born in Florida, reared in Texas and now resides in Northern California with her family.
Her highly anticipated follow-up novel Surviving the Chase, will hit the shelves soon. Visit her online at http://www.lisareneejohnson.com or follow her on Twitter @iamLisaRJohnson. Follow her on Social Media at Website: http://www.lisareneejohnson.com, Facebook, Instagram: @iamlisareneejohnson Twitter: @iamlisarjohnson Linkedin: lisareneejohnson