conversations.from: human
conversations.value: a description for a book titled Dancer in the Flames about Boots, Parkers, Jill with the genre: Mystery, Thriller & Suspense, Thrillers & Suspense
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Detective Irwin Boots Littlefield, of Brooklyns 64th Precinct, has a certain moral code. He may occasionally keep ill-gotten gains found in an investigation, but he wont let an innocent man go down for murder. Assigned to a task force to find Police Captain Chris Parkers killer, Boots is partnered with Crazy Jill Kelly, so-called for her quick temper and deadly aim, the daughter of a murdered cop and niece of the chief of detectives. When Boots ferrets out habitual car thief Vinnie Palermo, who witnessed Parkers death while hijacking a Nissan, the brass charge Palermo with murder. But Boots doesnt buy it, losing friends on the force and paying dearly as he searches for the actual killer, a process that uncovers an atmosphere of corruption and a cache of dirty cops. the authors trademark brisk dialogue and relentless pace shine here, but his primary characters fall a little flat: Boots lacks appeal, despite being described as universally well liked, and his relationship with Jill seldom goes beyond heated sexual encounters, despite allegations to the contrary. Accomplished hard-boiled crime a little short on character development. --Michele Leber
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the first four paragraphs for this book
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Dancer in the Flames
  The gears in Boots's skull began to click. Mike Shaw was giving him an excuse to back off. Jill didn't – and wouldn't – need him. Did she know? Jill's head was turned ever so slightly to the left, her look sideways and up. She was smiling, too.
  Boots shoved the phone in his pocket. 'The murder charge against Vinnie Palermo has been dropped,' he told Jill Kelly. When she didn't answer, he said, 'I'm gonna go.'
  Jill surprised Boots when she stepped close enough to stick a playful finger into his navel. 'Go on, Boots. Get moving.'
  On his way out, Boots noticed that every window was covered, and that Jill had placed a lamp before each of them. This didn't make walking through the front door any easier. He thought briefly of making his exit through the back, then took the plunge.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: four more paragraphs
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A rare moment of camaraderie between warriors from opposing camps – that was undoubtedly Golibek's intention. Call him a romantic, but he was totally unprepared for the flame that shot up into Boots's eyes, or the flush that rose into his cheeks, or the words that dropped from his mouth, one at a time, heavy as stones.
  Boots did not sleep well that night and was not in a good mood when he approached the door to Galligan's offices. Nor was his disposition improved by finding the door locked, or by the hour-long wait before Galligan popped out of the elevator at eleven o'clock.
  As he trailed Galligan to his office, Boots swallowed the blasphemy, his anger as well. He was consoled by the near certainty that one fine day he would have the exquisite pleasure of separating Galligan, if not from his teeth, at least from his business.
  Too pleased with himself to recognize the threat, Galligan flopped into his chair. Business was booming, thanks to Joaquin.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the last four paragraphs
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Boots had his argument in place, the one he would make to Father Gubetti in the confessional. The priest had instructed him to resist and he'd done just that. Resisted for weeks and weeks until... until the great Temptor overcame his resolve by insisting that the loot, like any other treasure, belonged to he who recovered it. Did the new homeowner have a greater claim than Boots? Or some workman hired to remove the vent?
  The cellphone in his pocket began to trill just as Boots knelt to gather the cash. He'd forgotten to shut it off. Now it would ring five or six times if he didn't answer. He yanked the phone out, pushed the on-button, whispered, 'Yeah?'
  Boots looked down at the pile of bills. Somehow, lying to Jill Kelly seemed the perfect way to kick off their post-Corcoran relationship.
  Boots shoved the cash into the plastic bag as he carefully considered his reply. Only when he had the words right did he finally speak.