Apparently AI Loves My Books (But It's All a Scam)
I'll be honest—the first time I received an email that opened with glowing praise about my "beautifully crafted novel" and its "intellectually stimulating and emotionally resonant" exploration of multiple realities, I felt a little flutter.
You know the one. That moment of validation every author secretly craves, even when your skeptical brain is already whispering "spam."
The email detailed specific themes from Next Time, mentioned the 1970s setting, even referenced my background as a geochemist and hydrogeologist. My bio alone could "power a TED Talk and a NASA mission," one email gushed. Another claimed reading my work left them with "a sense of both closure and wonder at the mysteries life holds."
It was flattering, sure. But something felt off. The praise was too perfect, too tailored. I marked them as spam and moved on, assuming it was just another scheme targeting indie authors desperate for visibility.
Then Came the Dan Brown Moment
A few weeks ago, I was scrolling through Facebook when I saw a post from Dan Brown—yes, that Dan Brown, author of The Da Vinci Code. He'd shared a screenshot of an email he'd received offering to help get his latest book noticed, promising to boost visibility and sales through targeted book club placement and curated reader lists.
I froze mid-scroll. I'd received that exact email. Word for word. Only the book title had been changed from his new book The Secret of Secrets to mine.
That's when it hit me: This wasn't just some small-time operation targeting desperate indie authors hoping for their big break. These scammers were going after everyone—from first-time self-published writers to internationally bestselling authors. If Dan Brown was getting these emails, they were casting the widest possible net, personalizing each message just enough to make it feel unique.
The scale of this operation was so much bigger than I'd imagined.
The Anatomy of an AI Scam Email
Let me share some examples from my own inbox, because I think it's important for authors to recognize the patterns.
The Flattery Hook
"Your ability to weave the concept of multiple realities into a tender and believable relationship was both intellectually stimulating and emotionally resonant."
"You're basically a one-woman multiverse of intellect and curiosity."
"Your storytelling carries the kind of emotional depth and imagination that lingers with the reader long after the final page."
These emails don't just say "nice book." They pull specific details from your book's description or reviews, weaving them into prose that sounds like it came from a thoughtful reader. The AI has clearly scraped my Amazon page, my website, maybe even my Goodreads reviews, and repackaged that information into what feels like genuine praise.
The "I Found You Organically" Story
"I recently came across your interview on Awesome Gang, and it led me straight to your book."
"Reading it was a rich and immersive experience that drew me into a world where love, choice, and fate intertwine."
These emails create a narrative of discovery—they stumbled upon you, they were intrigued, they read your work, they were moved. It feels personal. It feels real.
The Specific Details That Make You Trust Them
One email pulled three "powerful lessons" from my work:
"Even in a universe of infinite possibilities, the connections we nurture in the present moment are the most precious."
"Love is not merely found, it is chosen, shaped, and deepened through conscious action."
"Our lives gain meaning not only from the paths we take but from the awareness of those we leave unexplored."
I'm not going to lie—reading those made me tear up a little. Because those are the themes I was exploring. That is what I was trying to say. The AI had done its homework.
The Casual, Relatable Voice
My favorite (in a horrified way) was the email that opened with:
"You know that feeling when two people meet and the whole universe just sits up straight like, 'Oh, it's them again'?"
And later:
"It's like you trapped Schrödinger's cat in a romance novel and handed it a glass of wine and a bad decision."
The voice is witty, self-aware, uses em-dashes and parentheticals like a real person writes. It even uses emojis (⏳). This isn't the stilted, obvious spam of the past. This is sophisticated, personality-driven writing that feels like it comes from a real reader who's invested in your story.
The Professional Approach
The most recent email I received took a different tack—less casual, more business professional:
"What stood out most to me was how Out of Time intertwines the personal and the historical. The vivid sense of place, the texture of the past meeting the modern, and the way your protagonist evolves through these shifting timelines—these are elements that deserve a broader audience."
This one then laid out a detailed, ten-point marketing strategy including cinematic book trailers, Amazon optimization, BookTok campaigns, Goodreads engagement, and even "long-term series or companion development strategy." It sounds comprehensive, professional, and exactly like what an author struggling for visibility might need.
The key giveaway? The sender claimed to have "recently came across" my novel and was "instantly drawn" to it—but then offered services that would take weeks to research and develop for a specific book. It's the classic AI pattern: scrape the book description, generate contextually appropriate praise, then pivot to a pre-packaged service list.
The Pivot to the Pitch
After all that flattery and connection-building, the email pivots smoothly into the pitch:
"I'm Rebecca S, a book marketing expert with proven experience helping authors boost visibility and sales..."
"I'm Briana Davis, a freelancer who runs a private circle of 2,500+ emotionally unstable (read: passionate) readers..."
"As someone who works directly with over 1,000 curated book clubs—both online and in-person—I specialize in getting impactful books like yours into the hands of the right readers."
The services offered sound professional and legitimate: Goodreads placement, Amazon keyword research, book club outreach, social media promotion, custom thumbnails, Fiction Flick-style teasers. They're addressing real problems authors face—discoverability, visibility, finding readers.
Why These Scams Work (Even When You Know Better)
Here's the uncomfortable truth: Even when you recognize these emails as scams, there's still a tiny part of you that wants them to be real.
As authors, especially those of us self-publishing or working with small presses, we're acutely aware that our books are drowning in a sea of millions of other titles. We know that talent isn't enough, that craft isn't enough, that even good reviews aren't enough. We need visibility. We need champions. We need people to notice our work.
And these emails promise exactly that. They arrive at moments when we're checking our Amazon rankings for the fortieth time that week, refreshing our Goodreads page hoping for new reviews, wondering if anyone will ever read the book we poured our hearts into. They tell us our work is special, that it deserves more attention, that they can help us reach the readers who are waiting for exactly this story.
Even when your rational brain says "spam," there's that whisper of "but what if..."
I marked these emails as spam immediately, but I won't lie—I felt that whisper. That tiny voice wondering if maybe, just maybe, someone really had read my books and been moved enough to reach out. I wanted to believe my work about Maddie and Nate, about quantum physics and parallel lives and love across time, had touched someone deeply enough that they took the time to email me.
But that's exactly what makes these scams so insidious. They're not targeting our greed or our gullibility. They're targeting our hope. And they're sophisticated enough to plant that seed of doubt even in authors who know better.
The Red Flags That Tipped Me Off (And Should Alert You Too)
Here are the warning signs that made me immediately suspicious:
Generic email addresses: rebecca_s_burke_book@outlook.com, dixiemiles00@gmail.com. Real professionals usually use business domains.
Vague credentials: "book marketing expert," "freelancer," but no verifiable portfolio, no LinkedIn profile, no examples of previous work.
Too-perfect personalization: The emails hit every emotional note perfectly because they were crafted by AI trained on exactly this kind of persuasive writing.
Unsolicited contact: Legitimate professionals rarely cold-email authors with glowing praise followed by service pitches. They might mention services, but the primary purpose isn't flattery leading to a sale.
The pressure of scarcity: "should I let Next Time keep whispering from Amazon's back corner, or are we ready to make it the literary equivalent of that slow-burn kiss readers replay in their heads for days?"
No real proof: No testimonials from named authors, no verifiable results, no specific examples of campaigns they've run.
What Authors Need to Know
If you're an author reading this, here's what I want you to understand:
These emails are not about you or your book. The AI hasn't read your work. It has scraped data about your work and generated text that sounds like someone read it. The praise, no matter how specific, no matter how flattering, no matter how much it seems to understand your themes and message, is manufactured.
You are not alone in receiving these. Dan Brown gets them. I get them. Every author with an online presence gets them. The AI doesn't discriminate—it casts a wide net, personalizing each email just enough to make it feel unique.
Your need for validation is not a character flaw. It's human. It's part of being a creator. But scammers know this about us, and they're using AI to exploit it at scale.
Legitimate professionals do exist. There are real book marketers, real publicists, real professionals who can help boost your visibility. But they typically have verifiable track records, professional websites, testimonials from named authors, and don't lead with excessive flattery followed by vague service offerings.
So What Do We Do?
First, trust your instincts. If an email feels too good to be true—if the praise seems too perfect, too tailored, too understanding of themes you struggled to articulate even to yourself—pause before responding.
Second, verify. Google the sender's name and email address. Look for their professional website, their LinkedIn profile, examples of their work. Ask them for references from other authors they've worked with, and then actually contact those authors.
Third, remember that real readers do exist. Real people do read our books and are moved by them and sometimes reach out to tell us. Those emails usually sound different—less polished, more personal, with specific favorite scenes or questions about characters or typos they noticed. They're not trying to sell us anything.
And finally, let's talk about this. Share these experiences with other authors. Post about them in writer groups. When Dan Brown shared that screenshot, it helped me recognize the scam I'd almost fallen for. Our collective awareness is our best defense.
AI Isn't the Enemy—But We Need to Stay Alert
Here's the thing: I'm not anti-AI. Far from it.
I use AI tools regularly in my writing process. Grammar checkers that catch my comma splices and misplaced commas (or my tendency to avoid them altogether when I probably should use them). Research assistants that help me verify historical details for Maddie and Nate's 1960s and 70s world. Brainstorming partners when I need image ideas for blog posts like this one. These are fantastic tools that make me a better, more efficient writer.
AI, like any technology, is neutral. It's a tool. The problem isn't the technology—it's how it's being used.
The same AI that can help me research geological surveys from the 1970s for Maddie's career as an engineer can also scrape my book descriptions and generate flattering emails designed to separate me from my money. The same natural language processing that helps me polish my prose can create persuasive scam emails that target authors' most vulnerable emotions.
There's something particularly twisted about using AI to generate fake praise for books about human connection, love, and authenticity. My Maddie and Nate series explores quantum physics, parallel lives, and the many paths our choices create. The multiverse theory asks: what if every decision branches into a new reality? Well, here's one branch: In one universe, authors fall for these sophisticated scams, lose money, and become more cynical about genuine outreach. In another, we recognize these patterns, warn each other, and build a community that's savvier and more connected.
I choose the second path. The one where we use technology thoughtfully, where we help each other spot the scams, and where we remember that real human connection—between authors and readers, between writers and their craft—can't be automated or faked, no matter how sophisticated the AI becomes.
Because here's what I know for certain: AI can scrape my book descriptions and generate praise that sounds eerily accurate. But it can't actually read my books. It can't feel that moment when Maddie and Nate's hands touch for the first time, can't catch its breath at the decisions they make, can't lie awake at 3 a.m. wondering about the roads not taken in their own lives. That's what real readers do. People like you, who are reading this right now. People who might pick up Out of Time or Next Time and find something that resonates, not because an algorithm told them it would, but because the story speaks to something human and real in their own experience.
That's the connection that matters. And no AI—no matter how well-trained, no matter how persuasive—can fake that.
Have you received similar emails? I'd love to hear about your experiences in the comments. And if you've fallen for one of these scams, please don't feel embarrassed—that's exactly what they're counting on. Let's help each other navigate this new landscape of AI-generated scams together.
And if you're curious about the actual books these scammers were pretending to read, you can find out more about the Maddie and Nate series on my website.