<p>I’ve got a big … ego and an even bigger bank account. That’s pretty much where my bio ends. Honestly I don’t need to say anything else. I’ve just sold 99% of women on going home with me.</p><p>Do I sound like a jerk to you? That’s because I am.</p><p>And guess what? It works for me just fine.</p><p>Or at least it did. Until I met her.</p><p>Books talk about sparks flying. Screw that. With her it was like emergency flares mixed with jet fuel. Or maybe just straight up napalm.</p><p>Only one problem. She wouldn’t tell me her name or her number when she disappeared from the hotel room after the hottest night of my life.</p><p>Now I’ve had a taste of the perfect woman—and I need it again.</p><p>So what’s a jerk to do?</p><p>I took this problem to the street. A missed connection gone viral.</p><p>And when I find her? I’m keeping her.</p>