He spoke loudly on the phone, name-dropped famous “connections,” flaunted lavish
events, and painted himself as larger than life. His narcissistic performance was on
24/7. At first, it all seemed absurd. But beneath the surface was a ruthless strategy.
He targeted lonely, successful women and get-rich-quick investors, showing them a
world they couldn’t resist.

He invited her to glamorous soirées, vacations, and introduced her to “important
people.” But eventually, he controlled what she wore, how she behaved, and whom
she smiled at. It felt glamorous at first and she liked the self-improvement and
attention. But soon, the anxiety took over:
Am I good enough? Will he leave me for someone else? What if he decides I’m no
longer useful?

When I watched The Tinder Swindler, I wondered how anyone could fall for such an
obvious narcissist. But when you live your life with honesty and faith in others, it’s
hard to comprehend the scale of someone’s lies. And yet, thousands of women—
and men—fall for them every day.

These predators build their personas around what their victims need. They follow the
rule: See a need, fill a need. They become whoever you want them to be. They are
chameleons.

I met another scammer, too, He was a self-proclaimed film producer who built his
persona not on truth, but on the achievements of others. He manipulated IMDB and
Wikipedia, bought fake followers, and did whatever it took to appear like he was the
man he always wanted to be. He sought out people who were desperate to break
into the film industry and sold them false promises. He eventually got knocked off
his throne, but not before hurting many people—and stealing even more money.

It dawned on me later: these conmen are like savvy advertisers. They fine-tune their
pitch, just like successful authors learn how to hype their books. Some conmen are
more effective than others—and we are the product. They fight for our attention.
They fight for our money. And it is a number’s game.

Here’s the pattern: scammers become who you need them to be. They offer
personalized “solutions,” zero in on your dreams or insecurities, lure you into their
web and then take your money without ever delivering.

AI helps these dishonest people sharpen their pitch and target their victims with
terrifying precision. What’s worse? Most of it is technically legal. These scammers
operate in gray zones where the justice system often falls short. And there’s little
support for victims.

That’s why I wrote Easy Prey. I wanted to take down a scammer, even if it was only
through fiction. I wanted that sense of justice for myself. And I have a feeling I’m not
alone.

If you’re fascinated by psychological mind games, tangled lies, and the chilling
danger behind a charming profile, you might want to give Easy Preya try.
Available exclusively on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited.