conversations.from: human
conversations.value: a description for a book titled Thread of Fear about Award, York, Times with the genre: Literature & Fiction, United States
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: the author is the New York Times bestselling author of the Tracers series, the Wolfe Sec series, the Alpha Crew series and several other novels. A two-time RITA Award winner and the recipient of the Daphne du Maurier Award, Laura lives in Austin, where she is working on her next book. Visit her website at Laurathe author.com and her Facebook at Facebook.com/Laurathe authorAuthor.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the first two paragraphs for this book
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Thread of Fear
  The waitress delivered a glass of wine. She seemed amazingly attentive, and Fiona figured she was eavesdropping.
  Fiona tried not to look too curious. All she knew about Jack's years in Houston was that he'd worked homicide at some point, and that Nathan had helped train him.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: three more paragraphs
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Jack botched his next shot and swore as Nathan took aim at the twelve, which had been an outright gift. He sank it just as the drinks arrived.
  Jack scowled. He'd never considered being chief of police a shit job, but Nathan was just trying to spin it. He'd been doing his best to snap Jack out of his black mood for the past hour.
  Nathan was playing second fiddle tonight, and he knew it, but he was too good a friend to give him crap about it on this particular occasion. Jack had driven to Austin to see Fiona and had been more than a little pissed when her door—like her phone—went unanswered after repeated attempts. So he'd called Nathan, deciding if he couldn't console himself with a warm, soft woman, he could do it whipping his friend's ass at pool.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Reverse the sentences.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: So he'd called Nathan, deciding if he couldn't console himself with a warm, soft woman, he could do it whipping his friend's ass at pool.. Jack had driven to Austin to see Fiona and had been more than a little pissed when her door—like her phone—went unanswered after repeated attempts.
  Nathan was playing second fiddle tonight, and he knew it, but he was too good a friend to give him crap about it on this particular occasion. He'd been doing his best to snap Jack out of his black mood for the past hour. He'd never considered being chief of police a shit job, but Nathan was just trying to spin it.
  Jack scowled. He sank it just as the drinks arrived.Jack botched his next shot and swore as Nathan took aim at the twelve, which had been an outright gift
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the last three paragraphs
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: She could see his arm shaking, and--to her dismay--hers began to shake, too. As if she didn't know how to hold her own weapon. As if she didn't work out three times a week to maintain upper body strength.
  He was disintegrating before her eyes. She could see it. His Adam's apple moved up and down as he swallowed hard.
  Andrea's pulse roared in her ears. The edges of her vision blurred. All she saw was that white hand clutching that big black gun. The muscles in his hand shifted as his index finger curled.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Swap the first and the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The muscles in his hand shifted as his index finger curled. As if she didn't know how to hold her own weapon. As if she didn't work out three times a week to maintain upper body strength.
  He was disintegrating before her eyes. She could see it. His Adam's apple moved up and down as he swallowed hard.
  Andrea's pulse roared in her ears. The edges of her vision blurred. All she saw was that white hand clutching that big black gun.She could see his arm shaking, and--to her dismay--hers began to shake, too.