Individuals targeting newly published writers aren’t nearly as amusing as Steve Martin and Michael Caine
Photo by Markus Winkler on Unsplash
This past May, my first novel, Loss of Life, was published by Legacy Book Press. Because Legacy is a small press, I knew I’d have to do a lot of my own marketing. But I was unprepared for how much (apparent) marketing opportunities would be coming to me.
A couple of weeks after the book came out, I received an email from someone who said he was Andy Ward, Senior Editor and Publisher at Penguin Random House. The email was odd, and somewhat amusing. It said:
“I recently read your novel, Half Moon Over Clark Street, and was impressed by its darkly funny coming-of-age narrative, its richly observed mid-century St. Louis setting, and the emotional balance you achieve between humor and pathos. Theo Russo’s perspective feels authentic and engaging, and the novel’s depiction of suburban transition and personal resilience is particularly compelling.
“I would be interested to learn more about your current and forthcoming projects, as well as whether you are represented by a literary agent. If you do have representation, I would be pleased to continue the conversation through your agent. If not, I would be happy to outline how the publishing process typically works should there be mutual interest.
“Subject to reviewing additional material, there may be an opportunity to discuss how your work could align with Penguin Random House's publishing program.”
The email was addressed to me, but clearly seemed to have been sent to me by mistake. (There was actually a book called Half Moon Over Clark Street, by Mark Valenti.) Still on a high from having my own book published, I decided to write back.
I told Andy Ward that there had been some kind of a mix-up, as the email was obviously not intended for me. I then mentioned that I was also a novelist who had recently published my first book.
My responding was part altruistic – letting him know his email did not reach his intended recipient – and part selfish – I was in the process of putting together a collection of short stories, and the prospect of establishing even this slight an “in” to an editor at a major publishing house was exciting.
“Andy” wrote back and thanked me for responding, then said he’d be happy to look at some of my work, also using the same wording about how “there may be an opportunity to discuss how your work could align with Penguin Random House's publishing program.”
When I got the first email, I googled Andy Ward and sure enough, that was the name of an editor at Random House. After the second email, I did a bit more research, going to the Random House site. Here, I found the following:
” WARNING: Scammers recently have been impersonating Andy. PRH employees only transact business from their official @penguinrandomhouse.com or @prh.com addresses. For more information on publishing scams, visit https://www.prh.com/prh-fraud.”
This, I learned, was the first and most obvious “red light” that the email I’d received was not legitimate. It had been sent from andy.penguinrandomhouse@gmail.com.
In other words, once you got through the fancy start, it was an email sent from a gmail account. Even I, in my scamming naiveté, understood that anyone working for a publisher would send a business email only through the company’s official email account.
I chalked it up as a learning lesson and was even a little bit impressed at the bizarre ingenuity of the approach.
Then the floodgates opened.
1. Someone who called herself Georgia Hill (who an Internet search said was a British romance writer), informed me that “While reviewing books,” she chose Loss of Life. “It drew my attention, specifically because of the raw and unflinching psychological tension in Matthew Winton's journey through memory loss, identity, guilt, and the unsettling possibility that the accident that changed his life may not have been an accident at all.”
It further went on to describe some fairly specific details about the book, and also identified “4 core pillars of the book's unique appeal,” which this person described as “psychological mystery.” She had put together a summary, she said, of the best ways to market the book, which had the potential to fit “alongside the giants” of the genre.”
2. Next, I heard from “Sodiq Salami,” who called himself “a book marketing consultant,” and claimed to have been “drawn to [my book’s] compelling exploration of trauma, memory, identity, and the blurred boundaries between fiction and lived experience.”
3. Rosa J. Owens, “Book Literary Strategist,” told me, “Across your writing and how you've presented the work, there is a consistent sense that this book is not just telling a compelling story, but emerging from a deep interest in how unresolved trauma shapes identity and the long path toward healing. That kind of emotional honesty is rare, and it is why your work stayed with me.”
4. Erastus Dominic praised the book, then wrote, “One challenge authors can face after publication is that making a book available doesn't necessarily mean its ideal readers will discover it. With competing titles across Amazon and social media, reaching the right audience often requires more than simply having a strong book. It requires a focused strategy for visibility, reader outreach, and ongoing promotion.” Erastus said he was “a professional book marketer,” who helps “authors develop targeted strategies to improve discoverability, reach relevant reader communities, strengthen promotional campaigns, and build lasting audience engagement.”
Then the offers branched out.
5. Someone calling herself “Samantha Foley,” of the “Psychological & Literary Fiction Devourers Reading Community,” wrote “We are currently organizing our 2026 Psychological & Literary Fiction Devourers Reading Challenge, running from August through December 2026. Throughout the program, participating books are introduced through guided reader discussions, reviews, reader reflections, themed conversations, recommendation features, and author spotlights designed to encourage thoughtful engagement with stories that continue to resonate long after the final page.”
She then informed me, after an extensive analysis of the book’s strengths, “Our readers especially appreciate literary fiction that combines an absorbing narrative with deeper questions about human experience. Loss of Life appears to offer exactly that balance: a psychological mystery with genuine suspense, but also a thoughtful exploration of trauma, memory, love, loss, forgiveness, and the complicated process of coming to terms with one's own history.” And then, at the end of this lengthy email, “It would be a genuine pleasure to include your novel in this year's program.”
I was pretty sure right away this was a scam, but I was curious to see where it might lead, so I replied, asking what would my involvement in this program entail.
Her response began by saying, “Your participation would also be relatively straightforward from your side. Once you decide to participate, you would complete the registration process and provide the basic book information and materials we need to prepare Loss of Life for its placement and promotional features.”
Then she got into the specifics. I would have to pay $125 as a “registration fee” for my book to participate.
Then, for them to promote the book (so that their readers who were all hungry to “devour” my book could find it and read it), the cost to me would be $1,325.
Pretty expensive to have your book chosen by a book club.
Even more importantly, since these emails were illegitimate to begin with, there was no reason to suspect they would ever deliver on what they were promising my $1,325 would buy. Once I sent money (which I had no intention of ever doing), I would no doubt never hear from them again – unless they had a way to double down on the offer, at a no doubt even higher cost.
The most bizarre email of this sort I’ve received so far came from someone purporting to be Kim Charlson of the Perkins School for the Blind.
6. It said: “Perkins School for the Blind is planning to feature one of your books, and I’m looking to buy multiple audio copies for our program participants. I haven't had any luck finding the audiobook online so far. Could you point me toward where it can be purchased (e.g., Audible, Apple Books, or another retailer)? If it hasn't been produced or released in audio format yet, do you know when it might be available, or is there a pre-order page we can use? We are finalizing our book list shortly and would love to keep this title on our schedule if the audio is accessible in time.”
It turns out Kim Charlson really is the name of the Executive Director at Perkins School for the Blind.
However, this email once again came from a gmail account, not an official Perkins School account.
Once again curious where this might be headed, I replied, asking for more information and noting that there was not yet an audio book available for my book.
Her response was to stress the importance of being able to order this audio book quickly, and then offered the opportunity to partner with the school in producing the audio book.
I ended the discussion there. I don’t know how much they would have asked me to pay for this “partnership,” but even a penny would have been too much.
In my twenties, living in a small apartment in Philadelphia and struggling to make ends meet, I had to park my old, beaten-up Toyota Corolla on the street, and one night I forgot to lock the doors. When I came out the next morning, I found all four doors open and the inside of the car ransacked.
I felt violated, a little offended – since whoever went through the car found nothing they deemed worth stealing – and saddened, that someone should attempt to take away whatever they could from someone else who obviously had so little of value to be taken.
I had similar feelings when receiving all these scam emails.
The ability to use AI lets them produce lengthy descriptions of a book, its style, and even its emotional impact that make it seem as if an actual human being must have read the book and been deeply affected by it.
“I was particularly offended at how these emails sought to take advantage of people’s hard work and their dreams. ”
As a long-time university creative writing professor, I have seen these dreams – and this hard work – in my students, as well as with myself, and I’m offended that people try to exploit those passions in order to increase their bank accounts. And I’m saddened, because like many new authors, especially those published by a small press, I believe in the quality of my book and simply want people to have a chance to read it.
It’s not the money.
I paid money for a publicist with impeccable references and reputation, and I have been extremely pleased with the work she has done for me and my book.
It’s the way these scammers offer to provide new writers with the things they care most about and are hardest to find on their own, charge a not-unsubstantial fee for their services, and then – I have no doubt -- provide none of the services they’ve promised.
Am I certain that all of the names I’ve mentioned here belong to scammers?
They all have certain shared characteristics.
First, they come from a gmail account, not an official account for the organization they claim to represent.
When asked for more information about themselves, their clients and work accomplishments, and the website where they can be found, they offer little or no concrete information; at best, they’ll offer a generic site with some vague relationship to books, such as https://www.thefussylibrarian.com/.
They usually express an urgency for decisions to be made right away.
Danielle Binks has a website (https://daniellebinks.substack.com/p/scammers-targeting-emerging-and-published) that provides many examples of the various types of scams that might target a writer.
It seems that first-time novelists whose work was published by a small or independent press are especially popular targets.
And no, these scammers don’t appear to be working for some huge organized crime ring looking to bilk people out of their entire life savings.
But to these scammers, people who have dreams are seen as vulnerable, and the more we understand how to identify these people who seek to prey on those dreams, the more we protect ourselves.
I know one thing for sure: every night after that break-in, when I got home and parked my car on the streets of Philadelphia, I remembered to lock my doors.
Copyright 2026 by Mark Farrington