The Long Game
In its current state, Lend Mortgage is chugging along steadily, but true to character, Marone has plans to get bigger. Currently licensed in New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and Florida, he’s got visions of 100 loan officers on his team, an army of well-oiled lenders with the mission to close. But all that takes time — and he’s not rushing anything.
“A lot of successful companies that are around 25, 30 years now … that’s not something they built out overnight or quickly. I think it’s a long steady drive to get to.”
With that in mind, Marone, though restless, is mindful about what he takes on. It’s a lesson he learned firsthand when his side hustle started to take on a life of its own. In the lull after the post-pandemic mortgage boom, he fulfilled a longtime dream and opened a high-end cigar lounge with a fellow cop. “We built it out really nice … 100 lockers, key card access, cappuccinos, macchiato, Pelligrino,” he says. “At one point, we had 150 members.”
For a while, it worked. Cigars were his one reliable off-switch. “I can’t sit still,” he says. “But cigars always relaxed me. That was the only time I sat still.” But among policing, lending, and cigar-shop running, something had to give. “I knew my limitations,” he says. “I can’t be working payroll for two companies.” In May 2025, he sold the lounge.
Still, cigars remain part of the routine. By the end of the work week, the pace slows just enough for a smoke and a few calls. It’s part ritual, part relationship maintenance — a weekly moment of connection before the grind resets.
The grind, for Marone, is the thing that keeps everything else moving — the constant rhythm of building, refining, pushing forward. It’s not glamorous, and it’s not always easy, especially in a market where even seasoned originators are struggling to stay afloat. But for him, structure is survival. “If you’re not growing, you’re dying,” he says.
With company growth on the horizon, Marone’s not pacing the floor like some cigar-chomping dreamer who only talks about disruption. He’s making lists, laying bricks.
“Why stay a small company?” he says. “Why can’t I take this to the next level? Why can’t I do what Bezos did?”
So he keeps at it — the cop with the file folder in one hand and the long view in the other. One more loan. One more rep. One more week of Sunday-night planning so Monday doesn’t kill him. You can call it discipline. You can call it obsession. But around New Jersey, they just call it closing time. And Officer Marone is always on duty.