They just wanted to dig themselves out of the financial hole they were in, grow their wealth, replace their income and enjoy a lifestyle of freedom and abundance.
When Tom and Bec walk into a room, you don’t immediately see “over five million dollars in equity and more than a million dollars a year in passive income.”
You see a bloke who still looks like he’s just come in from hard yakka on the tools, and a woman who could just as easily be leading a board meeting as she could be running a yoga retreat.
What you don’t see is where they started.
Tom grew up in a family where scarcity wasn’t a concept, it was the daily weather. His dad decided the easiest way to avoid paying child support was simply not to work, so money was always tight and the message was clear: there’s never enough, and no one is coming to save you.
Fast forward a couple of decades and that same kid, who had no role models, no safety net and no real plan, is standing next to Bec on stage with a property story that has gone from “old rural cheapies and negative cash flow” to awards, waterfront living, and a future foundation designed to give excess money away because they literally don’t need it.
Let me walk you through how that happened.
Tom’s journey started long before Bec, long before Tassie, long before the Gold Coast.
At eighteen, he was a trainee accountant at PwC, studying part-time and “keen as” to be rich. The only advice he had was his dad’s old script: buy something rural, buy it cheap, negative gear it and hope for the best.
So that’s what he did. He bought in the Old Kent Road equivalent of the Monopoly board: tiny, remote, low-end properties in places like Wellington in New South Wales, where “whoop whoop” is not a joke, it’s a pin on the map.
At some point around 2013, he wandered into one of our free I Love Real Estate events. He was in his early twenties, expecting to see me and instead got one of my team. He left with a stack of books and DVDs, zero cash and a decision: if he couldn’t afford the full program yet, he’d at least wring every bit of value out of those resources.
That’s when he started experimenting with every strategy he could get his hands on. Some worked. Some didn’t. All of them gave him something more valuable than a quick win: experience.
The first “real” deal that started to look like investing with intent was a commercial joint venture.
Across the road from one of his early backpacker experiments, a pharmacy had vacated its premises and moved into a shiny new shopping centre. The old building was sitting empty. Next door was a tattooist who was desperate to expand but couldn’t get a landlord to back him.
Tom, who by this stage had devoured enough strategy books to see a pattern, simply put the pieces together.
He pulled in a few friends who had cash. He put in equity and grunt work. They converted upstairs into a self-contained apartment where Tom and Bec and the boys would later live, and brought the tattooist in as a commercial tenant downstairs. Because the tattooist was so keen, he was willing to pay over market rent, and even the agent shook his head and said, “You don’t see rates like this.”
Tom only owned 25 per cent of the deal, but as the local partner doing most of the work, he got the most valuable slice: the learning curve.
After a year, his JV partners were happy to cash out and keep holding the asset themselves. They bought him out at the new, higher valuation, and he walked away with a solid profit, a stronger balance sheet, and a working knowledge of how to structure commercial JVs that actually pay.
That’s the first big lesson from Tom’s story: you don’t have to own 100 per cent of a deal for it to transform your life. Sometimes 25 per cent of the right deal is worth more than 100 per cent of the wrong one.
If the first commercial JV proved he could structure a deal, the next two showed him the power of simple, boring, cash-flow-positive properties.
He spotted a small industrial shed in a mixed-use area of Newcastle. The price was so low he practically laughed. He put it under contract on gut feel alone, mildly panicking when he realised the street numbers suggested he might have accidentally bought only half the building.
Settlement day came, the keys opened both sides, and he walked away with his own private reminder that sometimes the universe gives you a break when you’re still flying by the seat of your pants.
That little shed was a quick turnaround. The real keeper was in Tassie.
Like many of you, Tom was a bit of a realestate.com.au tragic. Late at night, he’d scroll through listings – “real estate porn” as he calls it – saving anything that looked remotely interesting. One listing kept calling to him: three units in regional Tassie, originally listed around $180,000. He watched it sit there for twelve months until the price dropped to $150,000.
He drove four hours across Tasmania to see it, walked through with the agent, and asked what the vendor might take. In his head he was thinking $140,000. The agent said, “She’d be thrilled with $120,000.”
Tom just nodded calmly and said, “Let’s do that,” and quietly celebrated on the inside. The numbers stacked up beautifully. It met the Rule of Two – strong yield without needing immediate renovation – so he didn’t touch it for five years. It quietly paid him to own it and delivered a tidy profit when he eventually sold.
Those two deals, the shed and the three-unit block, were like training wheels in confidence and yield. They weren’t sexy. They were effective. And in the early stages, that’s much more important than impressing anyone at a barbecue.
By the time Tom came across a site that had already been subdivided next door, he knew enough to sniff opportunity.
He bought a three-bedroom home on a block that clearly had subdivision potential, even though he freely admits he had no real understanding of how subdivisions worked at the time. He just knew it could be done because someone had done it next door.
He turned one block into two, did a cosmetic renovation on the front house, and ultimately sold down the battle-axe block. The project delivered a profit of around $300,000 over five years.
Was every part of it textbook? No. Was it the result of years of “just give it a crack and hope”? Not anymore. By this stage he was layering what he’d learned from my materials onto the instincts he’d built in the field.
This is what growth really looks like. It’s rarely neat. It’s a messy combination of books, bruises and better decisions.
Bec enters the story around 2012.
They met at PwC in Newcastle. Both accountants. Both good with numbers. Bec had moved from Tassie, married young, had two boys, and by the time she and Tom got together the boys were three-and-a-half and two. Tom has been in their lives ever since they were “tiny little fellas.”
When they moved to Tasmania together, Bec had never actually bought a home to live in. Tom was the property tragic; she was more “practical spreadsheet girl” than “real estate romantic.” They started looking along the Tamar River outside Launceston and found a beautiful property with a big house at the back and a cottage at the front.
Tom eyed off the cottage and thought, “Perfect for that Airbnb strategy I read about in Dymphna’s book.” Bec eyed off the river and thought, “Perfect for raising boys in a place that doesn’t feel like a compromise.”
They bought it as their principal place of residence, moved into the main house, and put the cottage on Airbnb. Everything was manual. They did the bookings, the cleaning, the guest communication, all without the automation you lot get taught now.
It worked.
That little cottage taught them that short-term rentals could do far more than just help with the mortgage. It showed them that hospitality, when done well, could be a business in its own right – and a high-yield one at that.
Once they’d proved the Airbnb model with one cottage, Tom went hunting for something bigger.
He found it in a heritage-listed guesthouse in Launceston called The Dragonfly. Six ensuite rooms inside. Three cottages out the back. Classic bed-and-breakfast setup. Classic falling-down verandas. Classic “scares away most buyers because it looks like too much work” sort of deal.
They moved in and within a week the council rang.
“Hi, it’s Jeff from council. We’ve had reports this building is structurally unsound. Can I come up and take a look?”
Exactly the kind of phone call you dream of when you’ve just bought a hundred years of timber and heritage. Their original “building inspection” had involved a walk-through with a friendly builder who basically said, “Yeah, the deck’s falling down,” and they’d thought, “We know, that’s why it was cheap.”
Now, under the eye of council, they had to do it properly.
For six months Tom was on the tools, dealing with decks, structure, heritage quirks and all the joys of bringing an old building back to life. Bec was inside working her magic with vision and numbers: reshaping the guest experience, tightening the business, and making sure the cash flow would justify the work.
The boys lived in what they jokingly called “the Narnia cupboard” – two small rooms knocked together with a wardrobe between them – while guests enjoyed the pretty heritage suites upstairs. They even opened a tiny lolly shop, selling Maltesers to guests while watching Dad push wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow of dirt to reshape the garden.
The result?
The Dragonfly turned into a seriously successful short-term accommodation business, pulling in around $186,000 a year in passive income and benefiting from a significant uplift in value to around a million dollars. It also became a family enterprise. Bec’s sister ended up as senior manager.
Her mum joined the cleaning team and loves being part of the business. The property didn’t just create cash flow; it created employment and community.
Oh, and it started winning awards. Year after year. So much so that Dragonfly is now in the tourism Hall of Fame.
Not bad for something that almost fell over – literally.
Having mastered one boutique property, Tom and Bec went looking for the next level.
They found it in a cluster of six themed heritage cottages, each one decorated as a different slice of the British Isles and Europe: English, Irish, Scottish, Welsh, Camelot and French. The owners had run it hands-on for a decade. They were tired, attached and ready to retire, but they wanted the right people to take over, not just the highest bidder.
There was one small problem: Tom and Bec didn’t have the cash to buy it the traditional way.
So they did what sophisticated investors do: they structured a deal.
The bank was willing to lend 70 per cent. The owners agreed to vendor finance the remaining 30 per cent as the “deposit,” on slightly better terms than the bank was getting. The sellers got their 70 per cent up front and a nice retirement income stream from the vendor finance. Tom and Bec got a thriving business with no money down.
Then COVID hit.
Accommodation businesses were smashed, but because Tom and Bec had their three main accommodations in three separate trusts with three separate ABNs, they qualified for three sets of grants and support. They used that window to freeze vendor payments with the sellers’ blessing, reinvest heavily into Dragonfly and Alice’s, and eventually refinance and pay out the vendor finance completely once another property was sold.
At Alice’s, they added an Australiana-themed cottage, refreshed the existing ones out of their “lacy heritage daggy” phase and into moody, modern, guest-friendly spaces. The place kept winning awards – state golds at the Tassie tourism awards and national recognition – and became a beautiful expression of Bec’s creative side: part hospitality, part styling, part storytelling.
Again, all of this from a zero-down deal that most people would have dismissed as “too hard” because they didn’t have the deposit sitting in an offset account.
Flush with success from two strong Launceston businesses, they made the same mistake almost every growth-driven investor makes at some point: they thought, “Let’s just add one more.”
Dragonfly North West, near Burnie, was their attempt at operating a third property two hours from home. It was another heritage building with four rooms and two cottages, and the numbers looked decent. They structured it as a JV with Tom’s siblings, Bec’s aunt and uncle and her stepdad. The deal sat inside a unit trust, and their operating company rented it from the trust, giving everyone a solid return.
On paper, perfect.
In real life, not so much.
Remote management wasn’t working. One of them had to be there. So Bec, who shares custody of the boys, started doing a week-on, week-off life: one week in Launceston, one week in Burnie, dragging the kids out of school, cleaning, setting up the business, trying to be everywhere at once.
It was the project that broke the camel’s back.
They were still renovating Dragonfly. They were still building Alice’s. They were exhausted and stretched, and then the world shut down.
When COVID arrived, all three businesses had to close their doors.
It should have been a disaster. Instead, it became the turning point.
Because of the separate trusts and ABNs, they received multiple streams of government support. Instead of using that money to prop up a flawed structure forever, they made a bold decision: sell down. At one point they owned ten properties. They decided to go back to just the two champion assets in Launceston, focus on making them world-class and clear as much debt as possible.
By the time the dust settled, they had sold Dragonfly North West, reinvested heavily into Dragonfly and Alice’s, and driven their total personal debt down to around $30,000. That was it. Thirty grand. For a family that had once been juggling massive mortgages and sleepless nights about interest costs, it was like an exhale they’d been holding for years.
And then they did the thing they’d been working towards all along.
They moved to the Gold Coast.
They found a gated community on the water. The kids went into private school. Their second car is now a buggy that takes the boys to the bus stop and does the grocery run. Tom jokes about chasing the “OC vibe” for their sons, like a sunnier, more grounded version of the American teen drama. They went to see the Red Hot Chili Peppers in a limo. The boys have grown up surrounded by surfboards instead of scaffolding.
Bec finally had what she calls her “perfect work–life balance.” She could oversee the businesses from Queensland, be a present mum to two teenage boys, live in a dream home, do yoga, and sit down to write the fantasy saga she’d always wanted to create.
Tom tried very hard to live a life of hobbies: pilots licence, paragliding, skydiving, anything that would get him into the sky.
It lasted about five minutes.
Some people are just not built for the couch.
Restless, Tom and Bec joined Platinum.
They thought they’d do a nice, local, manageable project. Instead, Tom found Fenway – a heritage, three-storey, twenty-room building in Launceston, built in 1888, that had been a backpackers for two decades.
Of course he did.
The original idea was to turn it into another B&B-style operation, but council, planning and building codes had other ideas. Being classed as a “Class 3” building meant a much higher level of compliance. Approvals existed from its backpacker days, but changing its use opened new cans of bureaucratic worms.
In true Tom fashion, he went all in. Since July, he has been back in Tassie on the tools, running a renovation team, while Bec and the boys have been based on the Gold Coast. They joke about seeing each other for two days in the middle of school holidays and then at events like this.
They’ve pivoted the plan and are now turning Fenway into a boutique backpackers – which, funnily enough, brings Tom full circle to his first backpacker dream in Newcastle, but this time with actual knowledge, a team, and a much better building.
They describe this project as “like childbirth.” They’re right in the middle of it. It hurts. It’s messy. It makes you question all your life choices. And yet, they know exactly what they’re doing now, what it will earn, and who will run it when it’s done.
That’s the difference between gut-feel gambling and educated risk.
While all this was happening, they pushed ahead with an expansion at Dragonfly.
The plan was to convert the four old stables at the back into eleven deluxe, self-contained cottages, including two wheelchair-accessible units. Ten short-stay keys would become twenty-one. The concept drawings are gorgeous: fireplaces, big baths, stylish kitchens, all the things guests will happily pay a premium for.
Not everyone was thrilled, of course.
Neighbours complained about traffic. Tom and Bec tried to win them over with drinks and charm, but a couple of objections snuck in just before the deadline and pushed the application over the threshold, forcing it to go to a full council meeting. They sent Bec’s sister to speak on their behalf, only to be told the council had the time wrong. Thankfully, the DA was already approved three votes to two.
That’s development. It’s rarely “Yes, no worries.” It’s usually “Yes, but after three curveballs, one near-miss and a story you’ll be telling at events for years.”
When those new cottages open, the business will move to a whole new level of efficiency and profitability, with a larger team on the ground and even more room for Bec’s design flair.
Somewhere in the middle of all this, Bec went all in on her writing.
Her fantasy saga, the Octavia series, now has five books written, with the first two due for publication and the rest in edit. One of her sons gave her the idea to release the two “timelines” as separate starting points so readers can choose their own way into the story. It’s clever, creative and pure Bec.
At one of our RAW events, we challenged everyone to look beyond “more money” and ask, “What is all this for?”
Tom loves property development. Bec loves writing. They both love the idea of funding people who are doing world-changing work they themselves couldn’t do. So they dreamed up The Harpy Foundation: a not-for-profit that will receive a percentage of profits from Bec’s books and donations from their businesses, and then channel that money into changemakers and programs like RAW.
When they told the boys that the plan was to keep making more money just to give more of it away, the lads were understandably baffled. But that’s because most of us are taught the first “why”: get out of struggle, get to the good life, move to the Gold Coast or whatever your version is. Tom and Bec have now added a second “why”: use the overflow to fuel something bigger than themselves.
Let’s zoom out.
When they first came into the I Love Real Estate world, their position was about $188,000 in equity and negative $3,000 in passive income. Debt was heavy. Cash flow was tight. Strategy was patchy and based on scarcity, hope and the odd good gut feel.
Today, their equity position has grown to over five million dollars. Their passive income has gone from negative three grand to over a million dollars a year. When they choose to pay down the mortgages on their core assets, they’ll free up another couple of hundred thousand dollars of cash flow. There is literally “a lot of money there to go to charity,” as Bec puts it.
And they are not done.
They’ll keep levelling up. They’ll pay down debt. They’ll get Fenway open and Dragonfly expanded. Then they’ll bring their boys into the game as “wingmen”, teaching them how to find deals, structure JVs and build legacies. The next generation will not be starting from scarcity and guesswork. They’ll be starting from education and choice.
Tom and Bec’s journey is not about perfection.
They’ve bought in whoop whoop. They’ve had council ring them after one week in a building. They’ve tried remote management and realised one of them had to basically move town. They’ve sold down when it felt like failure, only to realise it was the smartest strategic move they could have made.
But in every single chapter, they made one consistent choice: to own their life.
They didn’t wait for the perfect time. They didn’t wait until they had the exact right deposit, or until the kids were older, or until the market felt “safe.” They used what they had – skills, courage, equity, relationships – and they built from there.
You don’t have to want a heritage mansion in Tassie or a boutique backpackers to follow their lead.
Maybe your Dragonfly is a simple duplex. Maybe your Alice’s Cottages is a co-hosting business that replaces your job. Maybe your Fenway is that one big development that scares you a little but makes sense on paper.
Whatever it is, the path is the same.
Educate yourself. Surround yourself with people who’ve done it. Treat your mistakes as tuition, not proof you’re “no good with money.” Align your deals with the life you actually want, not the life your parents or your boss think you should settle for.
Tom and Bec have gone from a childhood of scarcity and a string of rough, gut-feel deals… to equity in the millions, income in the millions, surfboards on the Gold Coast and a foundation that will outlive them.
That’s not luck.
That’s property, done with purpose.
And if they can do it – starting where they started – you can write your own version of this story too.
““Very soon, we’ll be teaching the boys and getting them into property.””
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These stories and the results in them were captured at a specific point in time. The real estate market and the investing strategies used to succeed are constantly changing. The achievements and results of these investors may have changed since these stories were recorded. Each of these investors engaged in in-depth training, coaching and mentoring to be able to achieve these results. Their results are not typical and should not be taken as a guarantee of the results you may achieve. Your personal results will be in-line with the training, education and hard work that you personally conduct.
“The first ‘Why’ was getting to the Gold Coast and getting the lifestyle.”
All Investment Properties
Value: $395,000
Equity: $117,000
Cashflow: -$3,000 (negative)
Super
Value: $70,000
Equity: $70,000
Cashflow: –
Total
Value: $465,000
Equity: $188,000
Cashflow: -$3,000 (negative)
All Investment Properties
Value: $8,000,000
Equity: $4,800,000
Cashflow: $1,091,000
SMSF
Value: $300,000
Equity: $300,000
Cashflow: –
Total
Value: $8,300,000
Equity: $5,100,000
Cashflow: $1,091,000
