Free Lazer Focused: A Jet City Billionaire Romance (The Billionaire Matchmaker Series Book 1) by Gina Robinson Page B

is that what you're saying?" Austin was at least listening, even though there was a sarcastic sneer in his tone.
    I nodded. "It's either that or head to New York."
    "Bicoastal relationships never work." Cam shook his head. "I'm not moving to New York on the slim chance I'll meet my future wife. I can't risk my career on a gamble. I have too much too lose."
    His thoughts echoed mine. What point was there in pursuing a woman who lived across the country? My mind was still whirring.
    "What if there was a way to pinpoint where the women are here? The ones in the suburbs. The ones in the city." I blurted out my thoughts. "On Friday night, you stroll out of work, check your phone, see that there's a preponderance of eligible women looking to meet their soul mate at Bar XYZ, so you head there and take your pick."
    The guys stared at me like I was holding out a bag of candy I was about to snatch back.
    "An app?" Dylan said. "You're talking about designing an app based on census data and statistical analysis? Is that what I'm hearing?"
    I nodded. "I am. With a voluntary location indicator, completely anonymous. Here are my thoughts—a guy walks into a bar. The app on his phone adds another single college-educated guy to the tally of available men there. No other identifying data. He's picked the bar because his app has told him there's a good number of single, college-educated women hanging there. Female app users who've enabled their anonymous location finder so the men can find them.
    "The ladies who have the app see that another eligible man has just entered their territory." I could read my friends' faces pretty well. The gears were turning.
    "Look. Falling in love is a matter of location and opportunity. Before the Internet age, people met and married someone from within a small radius of where they lived. Why should human nature be different now?" I looked around at the guys. They nodded.
    "Even Internet dating hasn't changed it that much. Eventually, you want to meet the girl and check out the goods for real," Dylan said.
    "Yeah. Dating sites." Cam shook his head. "Inflated bios that read like beefed-up résumés." He pitched his voice falsetto. "'I like lemon drops and slow walks in the rain along Alki. If you like these things, too, let's meet!'"
    The guys all laughed.
    "Headshots!" Austin shook his head. "Ever notice how the heavy girls only give you headshots? Like they're hiding something."
    Dylan nodded. "Yeah. Show me what I'm getting. Trust me, that I'm not that shallow. I like curvy girls. I don't like being surprised when I show up expecting a thin chick and look like a douche looking around for one."
    "The best way to find a spouse is meeting lots and lots of members of the sex you're attracted to and getting to know them," I said. "No phony online dating."
    The guys kept nodding.
    I caught myself. "I can't believe we're talking about trying to find you guys wives."
    Dylan ignored me. His eyes were bright with excitement. "So we make an app? Like a fish finder for girls?"
    I nodded.
    "All right," Austin said. "I hate to play devil's advocate, but someone has to. If the girls are in demand—and we know they are—what's in it for them to sign up? They don't need it. They might not even like it. Why create competition for themselves and draw attention to where they are? Why key those girls in the suburbs in to where the guys are?"
    "Kill-joy." Jeremy gave him a narrowed-eye look.
    Austin held his hands up. "Someone has to try to poke holes in the idea. It's like testing a video game. We don't want to waste our time and fail right out of the gate creating a solution for a problem that either doesn't really exist or that no one wants solved."
    "Austin is right," I said. "I've thought of that myself. That's why we use statistical data we pull from public records and publically available data sources to predict where the quantities of one sex or the other, gay or straight, hang out. And it's nation, maybe world,