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Love And Money – A Woman Billionaire Interracial Romance

Love And Money - A Woman Billionaire Interracial Romance

Love And Money is a woman billionaire romance by Esther Banks.

Bored of the usually BWWM billionaire romance stories? The ones where the male billionaire gets his way with a flimsy female character? Well no more! Enter Love And Money, a story which flips the genre on it’s head!

Meet Tamara Leads, an African American billionaire female who’s earned her way to the top. The love interest of the story? Jason, a Caucasian man who’s applying to work for the black beauty.

Join the couple as they meet, talk business, and get a whole lot more personal…

Woman Billionaire Romance, Read It Now

You can get this story over here.

Love And Money Sample

“Come on, Tamara! Dance with us! This is your party!”

“Yeah, get out here!”

“Guys, I am not drunk enough for that yet.” Laughing lowly, a dark-haired young woman disengaged herself from her friends’ groping hands, sliding back down onto the couch where she’d been all evening. Despite the intoxicating rhythm of the bass pounding up through the floor beneath them, she hadn’t lied. She’d need a few more drinks in her before she was ready to hit the dance floor.

Fondly, Tamara remembered her college years, where clubs and parties like this had occurred almost weekly. She’d been on everyone’s guest list because of her father’s title, but she’d always stuck to the intimate locales that her friends frequented. In those days, it had taken little more than a few shots to have her desperate to move her feet.

Now that she’d finally reached the big three-oh, she still liked to have a good time, but the places she chose had gradually transformed from students basements and underground raves into higher class jazz clubs and adult lounges. The White Tiger, in particular, was her favorite. In the early evening hours, the three level re-purposed warehouse was an elegant jazz lounge with live music daily. With completely white interior, from the elegant chandeliers that dangled overhead to the zebra print chaise lounges and booths that occupied all three floors, there was an ambiance of purity and relaxation. Some of Tamara’s favorite local jazz bands played here, and she loved to lounge by candlelight with a glass of wine and let the music wash over her, soothing away the stress of her day.

On Fridays and weekends, as soon as night fell, however, The White Tiger could hold its own with some of the best hip hop and R&B clubs in the city. The musical elite from all over the Southeast debuted their music here, and on Saturdays and Sundays the cover could be astronomical. It was all worth it, in her opinion. To be on the front line of the city’s cutting edge music scene beat out the possible allure of any other location she might be tempted to visit.

Tonight was her birthday, and as had been her ritual for the past two years, she and her best girlfriends had gotten together to for a night of drinks and debauchery. Izzie, the owner, had outdone himself, decking out an entire section of the top floor with gold and silver streamers, along with balloons in the club’s signature color. A huge, sparkling banner with the words Happy Birthday Tamara was the highlight of the whole affair, and her and her party’s drinks for the entire night would be on the house. For once, she liked to think the special treatment wasn’t because of her family’s connections. She and Izzie were old school friends, and they’d known each other long before the doors of The White Tiger had ever opened.

“Where’s the birthday girl?”

Speak of the devil.

All the girls raised a joint sound of delight as the owner of the club approached their booth, a large bouquet of white roses extended in Tamara’s direction. With a grin, the woman stood, taking the flowers to set them on the seat beside her before folding the smaller man into her embrace. “Thanks, Izzie. They’re beautiful. You’ve gone out of your way again.”

“Oh, anything for my special girl.” He squeezed her tight, enveloping her in the clean scent of aftershave and his own cologne. “How you ladies doing over here?” As he pulled back, Tamara couldn’t help but smile. Even when they’d been in school, Izzie had been known for the brightness of his infectious smile- along with the gap between his two front teeth, large enough to sail a ship through. Even though his “Gap-tooth Gus” days were long behind him, his smile was still his most recognizable feature.

“Great, Izzie!” Tamara’s best friend, Saniyah was next in line to hug him. With the light caramel skin of the obviously mixed race, and bright green eyes that complimented her riotous red curls, Niyah easily drew the most looks from among them. Not that the rest of her girls were any less special.

Tamara, Saniyah, Jasmine, Rachel, and Ariana had known each other since grade school. They’d gone through tea parties, debutante outings, high school prom and the college grind together, and as a result, they were inseparable. Jasmine was easily recognizable by her numerous micro-braids that somehow always looked fresh. Tamara didn’t think she’d ever seen the girl with her hair undone, and she was pretty sure Jas liked it that way. Rachel was the token white girl with big blue eyes and classic blonde hair. Tamara remembered the girl being insecure about her curvaceous figure when they’d first met. Since then, she’d learned to embrace it, and, as far as Tamara was concerned, that hourglass was a killer. Ariana was the most exotic in looks, with dark hazel eyes and a profusion of raven dark curls, but her Puerto-Rican tongue was also the sharpest, make no mistake. If ever any among them had problems staving off men, Ariana handled it with relish-and no small amount of brutality.

All in all, there were no others that Tamara would rather be spending her thirtieth birthday with. Her girls were her ride or die crew, and they’d certainly proven how indispensable they were in the past few weeks, what with her father’s retirement coming up and all the new changes on the horizon.

“I know that look.” Ariana nudged her sharply, snapping the woman from her thoughts to find a brimming Margarita being held out to her. “You’re thinking too much, girl. Stop it.”

“Yeah, less thinking, more drinking.” As Tamara took the drink in hand, Rachel clinked her glass gently against it.

“To Tamara, y’all!”

The five women and Izzie came all in, toasting their glasses. “To Tamara!”


Places like this made him uncomfortable.

As he entered the vast expanse of The White Tiger, cringing at his significantly lighter wallet, Jason was immediately blinded by the numerous flashing lights reflecting off spinning disco balls. What he could feel, however, was the press of a Saturday night throng and the sweat slick bodies of people losing themselves to the music. As he blinked, his eyes adjusting to the dimly lit interior, he faintly heard Eric’s shout before his arm was grabbed and he was dragged toward the first floor bar.

“This place is insane!” As he gestured to the bartender, trying vainly to get her attention, the dark-haired man grinned at his companion. “Perfect way to wind down after a week of work.”

This is winding down to you?” Jason scanned the club critically. Thankfully, unlike some of the other hot clubs in the Atlanta area, The White Tiger was home to a more mature crowd. No one in the club looked under 25. That didn’t, however, mean that they weren’t already in the first stages of inebriated indulgence.

He felt out of his league entering a club that was so overwhelmingly ethnic. While there were a few Caucasians scattered through the throng, the vast majority of the people gathered were black or Hiic. However, it wasn’t that alone that bothered him. Jason had grown up in a diverse neighborhood, so he’d never been ill at ease among ethnic crowds like others he knew; it was just the fact that everyone seemed to be so… at home. The flashing lights, throbbing base and R&B rhythms were second nature to the grinding, gyrating bodies around him. Even if they weren’t dancing, most people seemed to be mouthing the words of songs or swaying to the beat. He himself, while familiar with the tunes, wouldn’t say he knew them well enough to do any of those things.

He’d only come out tonight, in fact, at Eric’s insistence. He’d been home alone with nothing to do but watch a TiVo’d football game until his best friend had called. Places like this were like magnets for people like Eric. Despite his having grown up in a decidedly monied, upper class white neighborhood, the man would rather listen to rap than opera, build a classic car than ride in a Rolls Royce, and eat at a hole-in-the-wall diner than have a five course meal.

He was a character, Eric.

“Of course! Man, this music is amazing. And look at all these girls. I can’t remember the last time I saw so many curves.”
On that number, Jason would say that he had to agree.

Ever since reaching thirty five, the man had had to suffer through a seemingly endless line of girls that his mother set him up with in hopes that each one would be his bride to be. He was sure she’d be slightly mortified if he told her that all the straight-laced, boring blondes she set him up with were nowhere near exemplary of his actual tastes.

He loved women with hips, thighs, and that divine curve between waist and lower half that was next-to-godly. It was a preference that Eric and he shared. However, while it was customary for Eric to chase amazing ethnic girls until he could run no more, Jason had never actually taken that final step.

“So, who you eying?” As Eric slapped a beer into his hand, Jason scanned the crowd. There were a number of amazingly curvaceous, beautiful women- some displaying said curves, perhaps more than was actually proprietary. “How about that chick in the blue? Or that one in the red leather pants. Fucking god, those should be illegal, man.” Indeed, said girl’s pants were so tight that he didn’t think the difference when she removed them would be amazingly noticeable. It was girls like these, however, that were a bit too much for him. He didn’t want everything to be on display. That last little bit of mystery was what added fun to the chase, after all.

“I think I’m OK. I need a couple more beers before I go on the hunt with you.” Grinning, Jason took a frothy, ice-cold mouthful of his drink as he flashed his friend a thumbs-up. “But feel free to get started without me.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Draining his beer in one gulp, Eric straightened the lapels of his black button-up before smiling winningly. “Wish me luck.”

“Like you need it.” The dark-haired man merely laughed at his response before disappearing into the crowd.

And then Jason was alone. Throughout the entirety of his first beer, he was acutely aware of how out-of-place he must look. By the end of his second beer, he was tapping his foot to the beat of what was actually one of his favorite songs. Three beers in, the top two buttons of his shirt were undone, he was lounging against the bar, and he was finally starting to relax.

At least until she showed up.

Jason had every intention of pounding the rest of his third beer and setting off to join Eric in his epic hunt for tail before he was stopped cold by an approaching group of females.

They were, his first thought was, decidedly classy. No overly low-cut dresses or dresses so short they left little to the imagination. They were tastefully decorated and, as was apparent in how comfortable they were together, amazingly good friends. The vibrant mix contained a redhead of obviously mixed background, a deliciously curvaceous blonde, a full-mouthed Hiic-scorcher, a woman whose braids likened her to an African goddess and… an angel.

A dark angel full of fire, lust, light, dark and everything in between.

She had to be quite tall in her bare feet, but in heels, she towered over her friends at what had to be a majestic six one or six two- just scant inches shorter than he himself. Her skin was the rich, flawless mocha color of the hot chocolate he used to beg his mother for as a child, her mouth like a perfect, ripe cherry just waiting to be picked. Wide, almond shaped eyes were set in a regal face with high cheekbones and a long, aquiline nose. A profusion of meticulously styled dark waves fell down her back to the most tempting posterior he’d ever beheld in his life. Her body was like an hour glass, each grain that slipped through taunting him that he hadn’t had her yet.

“Excuse me.”

It took him a moment to realize that she’d spoken to him, and when he did, he nearly jumped out of the way in an attempt to fulfill her wishes. “Oh, sorry!”

“Ooo, look at him, Jas.” The blonde was speaking now, gazing up at him with a clearly predatory look. “Clearly he’s been waiting all night just for me.”

“Pfft. You would think that.” The Hiic girl interjected with a smile as teasing as it was lovely. “Everybody’s always waiting all night for you.”

The girls burst into laughter at the joke and indeed, with three beers in him, Jason had to hide his own amusement.

“Excuse my friend.” The beauty was speaking to him again now, and the husky timbre of her voice beneath the heady beat of the club music was like fire in his gut. “She’s maybe had a few too many.” Her eyes shone as the lights danced overhead, entrancing him.

“On the contrary, I take it as a compliment.” He grinned, alcohol bolstering his confidence. “It’s not so often that I garner the attention of such a beautiful group of ladies.”


“Oh, isn’t he a charmer.” Despite Saniya’s salacious purr in her ear, all Tamara could see and hear at the moment was the mammoth hunk of masculinity that stood before her. Though her tastes usually ran toward darker skinned men, she’d be lying if she said that this guy didn’t pique her interest. He was easily the tallest man in the club, hovering at a good six and a half feet, and his frame carried it well. Far from being lanky and awkward, as were many guys she’d seen at that height, he was obviously well built, his dark blue dress shirt pulling alluringly taut over a broad chest and bulky arms. He was dressed well, but not as if he was trying too hard, in classically tailored pants and dress shoes, his hair combed lazily back from a wide brow.

His face though- somewhere between devilishly handsome and alluringly imperfect, it drew her like no other had before. Wide set, deep blue eyes looked down at her from over a long nose that looked as if it had been broken once or twice. The shape, however, only added to his attractiveness, highlighting lips almost too full for a man and stark, chiseled cheekbones. He was without a doubt one of the most beautiful- and largest- men she’d ever seen.

“Can I get you ladies some drinks?” Lost in his eyes, all Tamara could do was nod, even as her friends tittered around her. It was only moments later, when his back was turned, that she realized that they were making him come out of pocket when they’d been promised free drinks all night, when she realized her error. Embarrassed, she quickly leaned over the bar to speak with the man behind it. “Sorry, I’m Tamara Wilkinson. Can you put those drinks on Izzie’s tab?”

This is only part of the first chapter. Read the rest over here.

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