Scammers

Calynn was just finishing her shower when she heard Kash laughing. She loosely wrapped a towel around her body so she wouldn’t drip everywhere and slipped out of the bathroom to see what was so funny.

Kash turned toward her, let his eyes wander slowly down her body and back up again, smiled—and kept laughing.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

“This message I got,” Kash managed between laughs.

“From who?”

“That’s the funny part.”

Calynn dried herself off a bit as she crossed the room toward Kash’s desk to see what he meant.

Kash’s laughter faded as his eyes locked onto her exposed skin, but she didn’t notice right away.

“Which message is it?” she asked once she was close enough to see his monitor.

Kash didn’t reply.

That’s when Calynn noticed his attention was very much elsewhere. She poked him in the forehead to force his gaze back up.

“Stop staring at my lady bits and answer me,” she giggled.

“Sorry,” Kash said, smiling. “Sometimes your stunning beauty… stuns me.”

“Did you seriously just pun me?”

“Maybe,” Kash chuckled.

“Just show me the message.”

“Oh, fine,” he said with exaggerated resignation, turning back to his screen. “Who does it say the message is from?”

“The Trade Commission’s Board of Compliance and Safety,” Calynn read. “The subject is our yearly dues.”

“How about now?” Kash asked as he opened it.

Calynn scanned the message. Not only wasn’t it from the Board of Compliance and Safety, it claimed to be an invoice for an overdue fine from the Constabulary—signed by the Director of Law himself, General Meo Sussanni.

“So,” she said, smirking, “do we owe compliance dues… or are we paying a fine for transporting an evasive insect?”

“My guess is neither,” Kash laughed.

“Why would they think they can get away with this?”

“Scammers aren’t exactly known for their overabundance of smarts, my love,” Kash said, sliding a hand around her waist.

“So what do we do about it?” Calynn asked, letting him pull her onto his lap.

“I forwarded it to the authorities,” Kash said. “And sent a scathing reply.”

“Oh?” Calynn asked, wrapping one arm around his shoulders and resting her other hand on his chest. “What did you say in your scathing reply?”

“It said…”

Kash paused—and gently pushed her towel open, letting it fall to the floor.

“It said… uh…”

His hands lingered, tracing the curves he knew by heart, pausing just a little longer at the edges of her birthmark.

Calynn exhaled, eyes closing for just a moment.

“Men,” she giggled. “Fine… you can carry me to the bed… but I’m reading your reply after.”

“Yes, dear,” Kash said, standing and cradling her in his arms. “Anything for you, my dear.”

“You can do better than that,” she said dryly, still laughing.

“Your Grace,” Kash said solemnly. “My Goddess. My Love.”

She smiled.

“Much better.”

________________________________________

This actually happened to me, except it involved two different bestselling authors. One name in the email, a completely different signature at the bottom.

I may or may not have sent a scathing reply that would’ve made my mother question her parenting. Sorry, mom.

But, I couldn’t help it. They deserved it.

If you’re an indie author and you get an email from a “bestselling author” raving about your book? Exercise caution. Mountains of it.

Ask them about a specific detail from chapter seven… something that isn’t in the blurb or any review. Something they couldn’t possibly answer unless they actually bought and read your book.

Silence is very telling.

Honestly, we need a new hashtag. Something like:

#BerateScammersCreatively

Bonus points for vocabulary.

Imagine dismantling a scam attempt using words like salacious, inept, or laughably transparent. If we’re going to respond, we might as well expand our lexicon while doing it.