My dream is to be an investigative reporter. Unfortunately, all I'm investigating are reality TV "stars" like Keith Jones in karaoke dive bars for a gossip column that's too skeezy to even grace the racks above the rickety conveyor belt in my local grocery store.

Then, I get my lucky break. Keith Jones, that entitled prick, gets aggressive when I rebuff his advances. And the stud who swoops in like a knight in shining armor to bar-fight for my honor is none other than the real estate mogul Nicholas Winters.

Oh man, all I can say is that those muscles he spends hours every week sculpting in the gym are not just for show. Also, he apparently hit his head a little too hard, because he's speaking with a Southern twang and says his name is "Tiny Tim."

One thing is for sure: there is no way anyone would ever call this man "Tiny." Everything on him is rock hard and huge, especially his...

Well, you get the point.

I decide to help him get to the bottom of this. As more and more synchronicities pile up, I start to wonder if Nicholas Winters has a long lost twin...and fear what would happen if the heartless billionaire woke up one morning to discover that a cowboy was the true heir to the Winters empire.