Women's Intuition

I don’t even want to speculate about what kind of people you are.

If you’re a genuine reader doing these things, then I think you’re brain-dead.

If you’re the author’s alt account pulling this crap, then I think you’re a pathetic loser who deserves to rot like a sewer rat.

If you’re a hired troll, then I hope every penny you earn goes toward buying your mother’s coffin.

As for the others lurking with alt accounts to stir the pot, I won’t even bother calling you out—you know who you are. Some money comes with a curse, and I fear you won’t even afford a coffin later.

Genuine critical reviews are easy to spot—they focus on plot and character flaws. But what is this nonsense you’re doing?

Since when do real readers have this much free time?

Pretty sure you’re the same person who reported me last time, huh?

Instead of wasting energy on this, why not put it into writing your own book? Why insist on being a rat? Seeing your antics at midnight is worse than spotting a rodent—it’s like watching a parade of ghouls.

The timing of your attacks is suspicious, all popping up a day ago, right when my stats started climbing. Couldn’t even bother changing your script? At least put some effort into your performance.

None of your “criticism” even appears in my comment section—you only dare to reply under others’ comments because it won’t show on your profile. How many authors have you sabotaged with these tricks?

And those alt accounts whose profiles are nothing but one-star reviews for new books? Yeah, I won’t even dignify that with an explanation.

I can accept honest criticism about flaws in this book, but I won’t tolerate you disgusting filth poisoning the experience for me and new readers.

Accusing me of hiring trolls? Hilarious. I’m too broke for that—I wouldn’t even know where to find people to brigade. Unlike you, who’s clearly a seasoned pro. If I could afford trolls, would I even be dealing with your garbage?

Even if you succeed in tanking my work, it won’t magically make your trash fire, rat-boy.

Sweating bullets at midnight watching someone else’s stats rise, huh?

Clutching your phone, green with envy?

Boo hoo, what’s the matter? You just can’t catch a break, can you? No matter how my book performs, at least I’m not a spineless rat. Did your mother never teach you better, or was the orphanage where the male lead grew up missing a resident?

A word of advice: karma’s a bitch. Try earning some decency, pal.

—Ranting to fill word count.

Ugh, still not at 1,000 words. So annoying. Haven’t been this pissed in ages.

Normally, I’d reflect on criticism to see where I can improve. I’ve taken a lot of flak upfront and adjusted my mindset. The male-oriented genre is new to me, and I’m open to feedback.

But this is a free story on Tomato Novels. You can offer suggestions, but acting like I murdered your whole family over a free book? That’s beyond my comprehension. Normal people can’t relate.

Maybe I’ve been spoiled by smooth sailing in female-oriented fiction for too long. Facing this kind of toxicity, it’s hard to stay calm. Midnight rage has me wishing for supernatural intervention.

Suddenly, it’s 4 AM, and I’m wide awake.

This book’s been targeted since its featured debut. After getting shadowbanned, the stats tanked. Just as traffic picked up on Sunday—with readers saying they found me through recommendations—along comes the book-test promo, and boom, the demons return. What did I even do to deserve this?

One more round of this, and I might quit. I’m exhausted. I don’t want my first Tomato book to end unfinished, though. I’ll try to push through.

Goodnight.