About two weeks ago, I got an email from a woman who said she'd picked up an old book of mine, KIDNAP.org. She loved it. She commented on the characters, the unique situation, the humor, and the moral questions the book raises about legality versus morality. She ended by saying she thought book clubs would love it, and she'd like to help me contact them.

I've been around, so I sensed a hook, but I asked what it would cost.  Answer: More than I want to invest in what would probably result in a list of book clubs I could contact all by my lonesome and pitch my book to.

A few days later, I got another email from a different person. This one lauded my ability to shift genres and present amazing stories. He mentioned the Simon & Elizabeth Mysteries (historical), the Loser Mysteries (a homeless sleuth), and my alter ego Maggie Pill's Sleuth Sisters series. He ended by saying that if book clubs knew how clever I was, I'd have readers for life. I didn't answer that one.

There was another the next day, from a woman who'd noticed my release of Yesterday's Murder this month and suggested that book clubs needed to know about it, since it sounds so interesting.

All of these emails had in-depth knowledge of the plots, themes, and characters of my novels. While I'd had pitches for promotion help many times before, I never had them from people who'd actually read the books and understood what they were about.

Then I got it. I don't have people. People have AI. 

Scammers (and maybe some who truly want to help; I can't say) have AI "read" the book and give them a summary. Then they write to me, flattering my ego with specific praise so I believe (or I'm supposed to) that they read my work and found it superior.

Nope. While I think my writing is superior to a lot of what's out there, I'm smart enough to know when I'm being conned.