conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What could be a title for a book about Cassie, Palmer, Silver with the genre: Science Fiction & Fantasy, Fantasy?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A title for this book could be 'Curse the Dawn'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the first paragraph for this book
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Curse the Dawn
  His eyes closed, and a flicker of something crossed his face. "If I had broken her bond as she asked, Tony would not have been able to use her."
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: three more paragraphs
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Yes, although the fading wasn't it. Laura's senses didn't work as well when she wasn't all there, so to speak, and she was curious enough to be back any second. The problem was worse than that.
  Laura giggled and reappeared over by the threadbare plaid sofa, where Tony parked his guests so he could watch them squirm on the tough old springs. "Can't catch me!" she said, throwing out the usual challenge.
  It had been fun when I was a child and didn't have anything better to do. It was less so now. "No, listen—"
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the last four paragraphs
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: They were coming down a gorgeous old spiral staircase, one of the house's best features. It was made out of oak but had been burnished to a dark shine by the oil on thousands of hands over hundreds of years. But it didn't hold a candle to the vampires using it. Well, one of them, anyway.
  Mircea Basarab, Tony's elegant master, would have probably made my heart race in plain old jeans. I say probably because I'd never seen him in anything so plebian, and tonight was no exception. A shimmering fall of midnight hair fell onto shoulders encased in a tuxedo so perfectly tailored he might have just stepped out of a photo shoot. The hair was actually mahogany brown, not black as it looked in the low light, but the broad shoulders, trim waist, and air of barely leashed power were no illusions.
  Still, he looked a little out of place in a house where his host was lucky if he remembered to keep his tie out of the soup. Since Mircea never looked out of place anywhere, I assumed there was a reason he had decided to go all out. Probably the same one that had Tony forcing a family on a strict diet to sit through a feast every night.
  For a second I wished I could have seen Tony, his three-hundred-plus pounds stuffed into a penguin suit, for once as supremely uncomfortable at one of his dinners as everyone else. But I wasn't going to. Because the vamp at Mircea's side, the one with the dark curly hair and the goatee and the deceptively kind brown eyes, wasn't Tony.