conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What could be a title for a book about Rolling, Doesn't with the genre: Law, Criminal Law?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A title for this book could be 'The Night Is Mine'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know the first four paragraphs for this book? End with the sentence ' She basked in the glow of it for a good five seconds before bashing it back into the corner with all the other pointless compliments guys had ever given her.'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Night Is Mine
  That night Peter had talked of dreams. Dreams of serving his country. Dreams of working in the White House. Little knowing he'd sit behind the Roosevelt desk rather than stand in front of it. Or maybe he did know.
  That night was the first time that she'd thought of the larger world about her. It was the night she knew her crush was never going anywhere and that she was always going to be too young to do anything about it.
  The next morning he'd gone with little ceremony, leaving her to stand by the Georgetown curbside and watch him go.
  Emily didn't show anything externally as they exited the air terminal. She'd been trained not to. But her insides had certainly dropped its collective jaw. Beautiful? Peter thought she was beautiful? Did Mark think so as well? Either way, it made her feel all smiley inside. A totally pointless and female reaction, but it was there nonetheless. She basked in the glow of it for a good five seconds before bashing it back into the corner with all the other pointless compliments guys had ever given her.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know another paragraph? End with the sentence ' It was hard to think with that much flavor in your mouth.'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Right, slap him upside the head, that's what she was doing. And doing very well. His script said to get close to the First Lady, not to Emily Beale. He took a long slug from the frosted mug of root beer. An exquisite combination with pastrami. It was hard to think with that much flavor in your mouth.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know the last paragraph?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: M.L. Buchman began writing novels on July 22, 1993, while on a plane from Korea to ride a bicycle across the Australian Outback. M.L. Past lives include: renovating a fifty-foot sailboat, fifteen years in corporate computer-systems design, bicycling solo around the world, developing maps for a national franchise, and designing roof trusses, in roughly that order. M.L. and family live on an island in the Pacific Northwest in a solar-powered home of their own design.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Add another sentence about University, Washington's, Certificate, including.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: M. L. Buchman began writing novels on July 22, 1993, while on a plane from Korea to ride a bicycle across the Australian Outback. M. L. has been a substitute instructor for University of Washington's Certificate in Commercial Fiction program and has spoken at dozens of conferences including RWA national and BookExpo. Past lives include: renovating a fifty-foot sailboat, fifteen years in corporate computer-systems design, bicycling solo around the world, developing maps for a national franchise, and designing roof trusses, in roughly that order. M. L. and family live on an island in the Pacific Northwest in a solar-powered home of their own design.