This email is the opposite of a persuasive pitch:
I bought one of your “Monk” books and your mother’s book. I don’t honestly know why I kinda like you, but I do. […]My new book is historical fiction about a little town in Kansas next to a Pawnee Indian reservation and the things that happen to the people who live there. The year is 1875. So I had to do a lot of research. It’s an easy read and I think you’d like it. It’s only $1.99 on Kindle. Sooo, if you are bored between 1:00 a,m, and 3:00 a,m, or are stuck on an airplane, it’s a good read.
Here are a few useful tips if you want me to read your book, Connie. Don’t think that because you bought my book (or my mother’s) that I feel any obligation to read yours. Don’t imply you can barely tolerate my existence. Don’t say that the main reasons for reading your book are that you worked hard on it, it’s cheap and it beats being bored on a sleepless night. And, finally, don’t expect me to read it if you neglect to include both your full name and the title of your book in the email.
UPDATE: I’ve heard back from Connie:
Don’t think that because you are a published writer you have the right to be rude. The name of my book was in the subject line of the email. You can be assured I’ll never purchase another one of your books. And, the one you wrote with Janet is boring. You need to find a sense of humor somewhere. In no way was I implying that you should read my book because I read yours. My email threw you, didn’t it? I believe you have taken on Monk’s personality – close minded and degrading. Please do not read my book – It’s much too clever for you.
She’s right about one thing — the title was in the subject line. My bad. Sorry about that. The book is Winnie (Life in 1875). So I took a look at it. The cover looks like an ad for Excedrin, but I don’t think they had that medication in 1875, though judging by the writing in the sample, you will need a bottle if you decide to read the book. I’m sorry, was that rude?