conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know a description for a book titled Beneath the Apple Leaves about Magazine, Connecticut, Throughout with the genre: Literature & Fiction, Genre Fiction?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Throughout her twentyyear career in communications, the author has worked with all media facets: radio, television, magazines, newspapers, public relations, advertising and marketing. As a freelance writer, she has written scripts for the Food Network and articles for Modern Bride Magazine, Connecticut Woman Magazine and more. Daughter of Australia was a final round selection for the James Jones First Novel Contest. the author lives in Newtown, Connecticut, with her husband and their three young boys. Readers can visit her website at www.Harmonythe author.com.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Throughout her twentyyear career in communications, the author has worked with all media facets: radio, television, magazines, newspapers, public relations, advertising and marketing. As a freelance writer, she has written scripts for the Food Network and articles for Modern Bride Magazine, Connecticut Woman Magazine and more. Daughter of Australia was a final round selection for the James Jones First Novel Contest. the author lives in Newtown, Connecticut, with her husband and their three young boys. Readers can visit her website at www.Harmonythe author.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know the first four paragraphs for this book?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Beneath the Apple Leaves
  Words can hardly express my deepest appreciation for the family, friends and readers who have supported and guided me during the writing of this novel. Every smile, every word of encouragement and every hug has given me the fortitude to chase this dream.
  To my precious agent, Marie Lamba, of the Jennifer De Chiara Literary Agency, you are simply the best—my fearless cheerleader to the end. And once again, sincere gratitude to my brilliant editor, John Scognamiglio, and the entire Kensington team for helping me bring this story to life.
  Historical Note: Despite Pittsburgh's spelling with an h after 1911, several sources, including the Pittsburg Press, did not incorporate the h until after 1917. In order to maintain historical accuracy, I have kept the original spelling of Pittsburg Press throughout the novel.
  Andrew obeyed the orders, held tight to his father's large hand, his own tiny fingers in the womb of the callused palm. His feet stepped blindly on the downward slope. Water dripped and tapped hollowly through the tunnel, the air cool and damp to the skin, reminiscent of the early morning fog that congealed in the valley.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know five more paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Clarity broke and he jumped from her touch. He put up his hand. "Hold on," he called out. His hand flew to his hair, grated through the strands as he tried to compose his thoughts. "I think there's been some sort of mistake."
  She stopped laughing and approached seductively, nearly crawling toward him. "He didn't tell you why you are here or what I do?"
  Andrew stepped back, but she followed, etched the shape of his chin in her soft fingers. "I take care of a man's needs, Andrew." Her fingers touched his neck, played with the collar of his shirt. "I touch a man where he likes it best," she whispered, playing with the top button of his shirt. She leaned to his ear and touched her tongue to his lobe. "I'm going to take you between my legs, Andrew." She reached down to his pants and cupped his groin.
  Everything caught fire, ignited all at once. He hardened in her hand and couldn't think. Only one working organ pulsed in his whole body. She kissed his neck, her dry curly hair rubbing against his cheek, and lucidity entered again. He stepped back, but she followed. "Just stop for a minute," he ordered. "Just stop. All right." His voice waffled, shifted disorientedly. She pouted a bottom lip with the scolding.
  Francine studied him and her demeanor changed, turned from sultry and forced to warm. When she smiled this time, the tiredness left her eyes as if she was relieved of some duty or expectation. She became pretty then, in a worn way. And he saw the effects of what the profession had taken from what must have been a very sweet and beautiful girl.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know the last five paragraphs? Start with the sentence 'There was silence, warm and bright and thick'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: There was silence, warm and bright and thick. The energy moved up the left side of her body, filled her through the cells. She turned to him. He was there. She could see him and yet he was unseen.
  The screen door from the porch opened and closed. The voice silenced, but the warmth remained. Andrew escorted Lily carefully over the walkway as if she were an invalid.
  Eveline stood, patted the old trunk of the apple tree. "Come sit. The fresh air will do you all some good." With that she headed back to the house, looked back only once to see Andrew sitting down and Lily perched on his lap, her head nestled in his neck, their baby tucked within their embrace.
  A burst of warm air cut through the cold, strong enough to blow the leaves up and around the stump of the tree. As they settled again, a vibrant green glowed from the base. Andrew bent, tossed the rotting leaves to the side, found the new shoots growing victoriously from the bottom of the cut stump, strong and firm and pulsing with new life.
  Andrew and Lily smiled deeply, exchanged swollen hope. For life began anew, grew again, beneath the apple leaves.