Her Superhero Lover – A BWWM BBW Billionaire Romance

Looking for an African American superhero romance book? Well look no further!

Her Superhero Lover by Lionel Law is a one of a kind story featuring some of the most exciting genres there is.

Superheros? Check.

Romance for adults (18+)? Check.

Crazy adventure? Check check check!

You can get your copy on Amazon here now, see the full description in that previous link, or read a sample below.

Her Super Hero Love Sample – An Interracial African American Romance Book For Adults

Renee sighed as she listened to her agent talk. She’d heard all of it before, it didn’t really change.

“Renee, you know that while your face is a mover, the facts are simple. You’re short. No designer is going to hire a model that is five foot five. And you’re too heavy to be a pinup. The girls who are a hundred and forty pounds that pose for men’s magazines are all five eight or more, with about eight pounds of that being artificial tits. At your height, you need to have a tight body that says you can rock a guy’s dick all night long with stamina.” Martin Clemmons was her agent, a retired model who had busted out as a photographer because he apparently had a better eye for making connections than he did for lighting, although he didn’t even have a great eye for that either, considering his office was in San Diego rather than Los Angeles or New York. Still, he was her agent, and tried to get her jobs.

On the other hand, he talked like a pig most of the time. Renee rolled her eyes. “Jesus Christ Martin, just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you get to talk like a total horndog. I got the message, you’ve been telling me ever since I came to you six years ago.”

Martin scowled and ran his hands through his stylishly coiffed hair. “Yes, and I keep telling you because you’re still young enough to make some serious money for both of us if you’d get your weight down. You’ve got one of the most hypnotic sets of eyes I’ve ever seen. I mean, you could get me to like women with eyes like yours. But, instead of working mainline shows or stuff, you’re stuck doing local spots and modeling eyeglasses for LensCrafters. You’re twenty four, Renee. That window of opportunity isn’t going to last much longer, especially for a darker skinned black woman like yourself.”

“I know, I know. Hey, you have any tea or coffee?” Renee was bleary eyed after having been up for the past twenty hours. “I had to work a show last night, and the club owner had me on set until two in the morning.”

“Sorry, no dice, just OJ. You know, it is the summer time. You’ve got all the UCSD and the San Diego State kids on vacation, and two ships just came back into port for the Navy, on top of the normal tourist trade. I’m surprised you actually have time for trying to find work with me at all. How is the DJ trade?”

“Better than modeling,” Renee admitted. “With the club lights low and me behind the tables, I’ve yet to have anyone call me fat like you do all the time.”

Martin spread his hands, not apologizing but also showing he meant no offense. “Honey, by model standards you are. I’m not talking if you’re able to pull dick on the regular. You probably are getting more than I am.”

Keeping her thoughts on the matter to herself, Renee decided to change the subject. “So you said you had a job for me. What is it?”

“Sun Cliffs Credit Union is doing a new campaign, both magazine, newspaper and some TV spots. I know the photography director, he owes me a favor. Think you can be downtown tomorrow morning not looking like you just dragged yourself out of a club just before dawn?”

Renee sighed and rubbed her temples. “Yeah, I can do that. I’m clear for tonight anyway. For some reason, most of the clubs I play all have Mondays as Country night. No thanks.”

“I gotcha. Listen, go back to your place, get some shut eye, maybe catch a workout this afternoon, and sweat out a few pounds. Show up tomorrow at nine at this address,” Martin said, sliding over a page from his printer, “bright eyed, bushy tailed, and ready to act your ass off.”

On the way back to her apartment, Renee thought about the direction her life was heading. Martin was right, she was twenty four, and the modeling career was going nowhere. Sure, it made some decent side cash every once in a while, but she couldn’t see herself being in any national level magazines, and the idea of doing film work made her laugh. She knew Martin wouldn’t even be keeping her now, except that he too needed every client he could get.

Maybe it was time to jump full bore into her DJ career, she thought. She was good, she knew that. Starting by working just a few weddings and the occasional family reunion, she’d climbed the ladder, working high school dances, then the occasional small club. Now she had a few of the bigger clubs in San Diego booking her, and she’d even fielded the occasional call for a gig in the Los Angeles area. If she could break into the LA scene, she knew the sky was the limit. She also knew the music scene was fraught with dangers. Acts that could be hot one month were working the bar mitzvah circuit six months later. At least by staying in San Diego, she could establish a strong local presence that might not make her rich, but would put money in her pocket for a long time.

“Not that my pocket is very deep as it is,” she sighed, looking at her apartment building. Located in the City Heights neighborhood, it was a forty year old building with a pool that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned since Bill Clinton was president. On the other hand, it was just down the street from a bunch of little restaurants that were pretty cheap. Her favorite was a Mexican place that served barbacoa burritos that probably had more than a little to do with her weight issues.

She walked in and locked her door, tossing her bag onto her old couch, and considered what to do with the rest of the day. She knew she should be making calls, trying to book some more DJ slots, or maybe returning that call to the guy in Studio City who wanted to talk about her doing a music festival around Christmas time (honestly, who throws a dance party at Christmas?). However, sleep was more important, and she felt like a zombie. The rumpled sheets called to her, and she answered, heading towards her bedroom.

*****

“Wow, you’re early. That’s a rarity.”

Renee didn’t like the director of the photo shoot from the beginning. She had that sort of condescending tone that said she thought her opinion was the only one that mattered, and she’d be a tyrant on the set. Still, she’d dealt with people like this before in the industry. It was eight in the morning, and she was at one of the branches of Sun Cliffs, which had been closed for the day to do the shoot. “Well, I didn’t want to hold you guys up. Where would you like me?”

The director looked her up and down, chewing her well glossed lower lip. “Well, first head over to makeup. Tell me, is that your normal hair color?”

Renee patted her hair, with her red extensions that she’d had put in two weeks ago. The blood red streak went all the way down to her shoulder over her right ear in a three inch wide stripe. “They’re extensions. I have a DJ gig that is doing a lot of red on the motif right now.”

“Hmmm…. well, maybe wardrobe has something that can cover that. Worse comes to worse, I guess we can position the shots to stay mostly on your left side. All right, well, get over to makeup and wardrobe, and get ready. We’re supposed to start in a half hour.”

Thankfully, the wardrobe people had a wig she could wear. It itched like crazy, but made her look like what the photography director wanted. The suit they’d gotten for her was actually well made, and fit her frame well. She thought the skirt was just a bit tight across her hips, but the director thought it gave her a bit of sexiness to the otherwise stoic outfit. Not that it matters, Renee thought as the director stormed away to yell at a lighting grip about something. I’m supposed to be a loan officer. I’m sitting at a desk most of the time.

            Just then, someone came in the bank, catching Renee’s eye. Tall, she judged him at least six three or six foot four, he was obviously one of the other actors. His body was amazing, even through the expensive Italian suit he was wearing, and his face was simply gorgeous. With piercing blue eyes and light brown hair, he looked like the sort of man that Oscar De La Renta would drool over to have walk the Paris runway for him. Hell, he’d give a young Brad Pitt a run in the looks department.

“Mr. Voelker!” the photography director said, coming over and shocking Renee by practically simpering at the man’s presence. “Thank you so much for taking time out of your busy schedule to do the shoot today. And of course, for letting us use your bank for the whole day. We could have set up a stage you know.”

Renee missed Voelker’s reply, she was too shocked. This guy was the owner of the bank? He didn’t look much older than her. How’d a guy who was in his twenties get to be the owner of an entire bank? Turning her eyes away, she looked in the mirror in front of her while the makeup artist went back to work. “Who is that guy?” she asked as the artist applied some foundation.

“Grady Voelker,” the artist replied, fussing over the shininess of Renee’s cheeks. “He’s the owner of the multi-national that just bought this place. He lives in San Diego too, I heard. Grew up in Imperial Beach. Handsome, isn’t he?”

Renee snorted at the understatement. “You think? That man could be on an IMAX screen looking like that, and nobody would bat an eye.”

“Got that right. Okay, I got the cheeks, the wig’s in place, and your suit looks perfect. You ready to rock?”

“Hey, it’s all voice over stuff, right? I just have to mime it all?”

“That’s what they told me. Although, I think Voelker has a few lines at some point.”

Renee nodded. “Then I’m ready to go.”

The shoot started right at nine thirty, and as she suspected, the photography director was a total tyrant. There were four other people involved in the shoot besides Renee, a white woman and man that were supposed to play your typical suburban middle class family that was seeking a loan from Sun Cliffs, a Asian girl who played a customer at the walk-up counter, and a middle aged white guy that was supposed to be the counter clerk. She didn’t know anyone else, and with the stress and domineering nature of the director, she barely had time to even have a nodding acquaintance with the other actors, other than the pair that was supposed to play the couple she was working with. The woman, who had just enough tan and tilt to her looks to make her look Hispanic enough for the large Latino demographic of the San Diego area, was actually from North Dakota. Her name was Kristy. “I just do this to have fun while my husband’s at work,” she confided in between shots while the director yelled at the Asian girl. “He’s in the Navy, out at sea for another few months.”

“I can understand that,” Renee said. She watched as the Asian girl stood stone faced in the director’s wrath, and shook her head. “I hope to God that our half goes better.”

“Me too.”

Just then, Grady Voelker walked up, his arms crossed over his powerful chest. Up close, he was even more impressive, and Renee felt her throat go dry. It’d been a long time since a guy had made her feel so nervous. “Is it like this on all film sets?” he whispered, his face concerned. “I didn’t expect this at all.”

“Depends on the set, Mr. Voelker,” Renee replied, finding her voice. “I did one shoot with a guy who was an extra on a Michael Bay movie, he said it could be even worse. He said Bay had people in tears almost constantly. On the other hand, I’ve heard that Tarantino is actually really cool to work with.”

Voelker nodded, and touched his lips. “Okay. Hold on just a minute then.” He walked over to the director, tapping her on the shoulder and leading her away. Their conversation was short and quiet, until the director’s face broke, and she walked out of the bank branch, trying to control her tears. Grady went over to one of the cameramen, spoke to him quietly again, and smiled, patting the man on the shoulder. He came back to Renee and Kristy, a satisfied smile on his face. “Thanks. By the way, call me Grady. My dad was Mr. Voelker.”

He turned to the assembled group. “Okay, everyone, can I have your attention?” he called, his voice easily carrying through the group. “If you guys don’t know, I’m Grady Voelker, and I guess I’m the guy paying for all of this today. Anyway, I made a decision, and our director has been replaced. I’m putting the lighting director and lead cameraman in charge. Guys, raise your hands please?”

The two did, and Grady nodded. “Thanks. All right, I’m going to admit I don’t know a lot about how to run a photo shoot or a commercial shoot. But I know a bit about business, and I don’t tolerate abusive treatment of my employees or my customers. So even if it takes some extra time, I’d rather we get this done without screaming or yelling. Anyone have questions about filming or stuff like that, talk to our new directors. Anyone has questions about the money side of things, talk to me.”

Renee could see as the crew relaxed visibly, their stress gone with the departure of the director. The lighting director took over pretty well, and another take was soon prepped. Grady sat down in a director’s chair next to Renee, which brought him to only a few inches taller than her. “Thanks again. So what’s your name?”

“Renee,” she replied, still a bit stunned. “Renee Williams. And I really didn’t do too much.”

“So you say. How long have you been doing commercials, Renee?”

Renee shook her head. “This is only my third TV commercial. I do mostly print work, eyeglasses and stuff like that. But I get most of my work in DJ’ing.”

“Really? I’m surprised,” Grady said. “I’d taken you for an industry expert.”

“Well, I did my first makeup shoot six years ago, so I’ve been in the local scene a while. Like I said though, it’s mostly part-time nowadays.”

“I understand. I’d pick music over modeling myself too, if I had any sort of artistic talent. What sort of stuff do you play?” Grady asked, giving her a dazzling smile. Was he actually interested in her?

“Well, like a lot of DJ’s I have a pretty big selection of stuff I can work with. I’ve done some mariachi stuff, rock, old beach music for the Baby Boomers, and of course pop, hip hop and what I guess we could just call urban. Lots of remixes too, although I’ve yet to play any of the big electronic raves. I’d like too though, they are a lot easier than a hip-hop festival.”

Grady nodded, conceding the point. “Any good stories from the turntables, or do DJ’s even use those any more?”

Renee laughed quietly, making sure not to interrupt the shooting taking place. “I do, but I don’t use it a lot. Nowadays it’s easier to load up a high quality audio file of the play list, then drag and drop stuff out as we need it. During the song, I use electronic manipulators to tweak and rework the sounds. I can actually make it sound just like an old school DJ scratching the record if I want.”

Their conversation was interrupted as the lighting director came over, telling them that the first half of the commercial was wrapped up, and they were ready for the second scene. Renee sat as the loan officer, while Kristy and the man (she never did get his name) were supposed to be the customers. After a few still shots with them posing over loan documents from various angles, it was time for the video portion, in which Grady would speak. She glanced at him while a makeup artist touched up his forehead, and saw he looked nervous. “Just remember, there are a lot scarier things out there,” she whispered when he came back over.

Grady grinned and looked down at her, giving her a wink. “So when do you play your next gig?” he asked while the set crew ran around getting last minute adjustments done.

“Thursday, I’m playing at Bang Bang,” Renee said. “I’m doing a mix of Asian and hip-hop.”

“Nice deal. I’ve got some work to do late on Thursday, but I’ll do my best to stop by. What time are you on?”

“Ten until two, in three sets. The ten to eleven, eleven fifteen to twelve forty five, and one to two.”

“What’s the extra half hour for?”

Renee smiled and tapped her fingers on the desk. “Got some new stuff, straight from Korea. The club owner is letting me work it into the last set, but that means a long second set to make sure the crowd is hot for the night.”

“I gotcha. Well, I’ll see what I can do.”

The director came over, checking if they were ready, and their conversation stopped. The shoot went quickly, and by the time the clock reached four in the afternoon, the entire shot was wrapped up. Renee was impressed, she had expected it to go until dark like a lot of shoots she’d been on. Grady’s decision to fire the director had paid off. As everyone was wrapping up, she pulled off her wig. Grady, who was approaching, paused as he saw the red streak in her hair. “Whoa. So is red your thing?’

Renee laughed and ran her fingers through the long extension. “Well, it is this week. Bang Bang is going with a red motif, and they’re my highest paying gig. Besides, it coordinates with my outfit.”

“Really? I’d enjoy seeing that.”

“Come on by Thursday and you’ll get a chance.” She was about to say something else when Grady’s cell phone rang, and he pulled it out of his suit coat pocket. He talked to the caller for a minute, then hung up, shrugging his shoulders. “Business?”

“Always. Anyway, it was a pleasure meeting you, Renee. And I promise, I’ll do my best to come by Bang Bang on Thursday.”

Renee watched him walk out of the bank, shaking hands and thanking most of the crew, disappearing into the warm San Diego afternoon to climb into a Lotus sports car. Kristy, who had changed out of her commercial shoot clothes and into a jeans and a t-shirt that said “USNA” on it, jogged her elbow. “He’s cute. And he looked into you.”

Renee shook her head and lightly guffawed. “You must be crazy. That man has enough money and looks to get anyone he wanted. There’s no way he’s interested in a girl from the Heights like me. I just wonder if he’ll actually come by my set, or if he was just being nice. I’ll count it as a win if he comes by.”

“You never know,” Kristy replied. “You never can tell.”

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