conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me a description for a story titled Playing Dirty about Virginia, Wifey, Portsmouth with the genre: Literature & Fiction, United States.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: the author is the national bestselling author of over 30 novels and short stories. A star of the street lit genrecrime novels in an urban settingthe authors works feature resilient women making tough, and sometimes not quite legal, decisions to survive. Her novels, inspired by her experiences and a five-year stint in federal prison, have sold over 1 million copies. She completed her first novel while incarcerated and her second novel, Wifey , became the first story in one of today's best-selling street lit series. A native of Portsmouth, Virginia, and a former hustler's wife, the author resides in Virginia Beach, Virginia. Visit her online at Kikithe author.net.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me a description for a story titled Playing Dirty about I've, Victoria, Dahl with the genre: Literature & Fiction, United States.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: "The best contemporary romance I've read in years! A hard to find combination of sizzling hot chemistry and laugh-out-loud humor." (Victoria Dahl)
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first five paragraphs for this story.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Playing Dirty
  As I made my way toward the door, I simply couldn't resist giving Shaw a little perspective. Honestly, it was his own fault. He shouldn't have been looking so smug when he glanced over Denver's shoulder at me. So I made a little pit stop and gave Denver a playful hip check. "Are we still on for tomorrow?"
  Wow, it sure hadn't taken me long to make the leap. I'd gone from "Hmm, that's an angle I might be able to work" to "Yup, grabbing that bull by the horns and riding it all the way home" in less than five minutes. That had to have been a record.
  I didn't linger any longer, not even to rub the salt into Shaw's newly inflicted wound. I'd done it. I didn't know how well I'd sleep that night after that, but I knew it would drive Shaw crazy trying to figure out what had just happened. Somehow, it made it all worth it. At least for now.
  My week just kept getting worse from there. On Wednesday morning, I avoided him well enough—face-to-face, that is—but there was still the pesky matter of my wandering thoughts and my body's involuntary reaction to those thoughts. On more than one occasion I had to stop what I was doing and start all over again; I simply wasn't processing the words I was reading.
  I'd zoned again and hadn't even realized it. Shaking myself from the stupor, I looked at Ally. "Did you say something?"
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Add another sentence about I'd, crossed, turning.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Playing Dirty
  As I made my way toward the door, I simply couldn't resist giving Shaw a little perspective. Honestly, it was his own fault. He shouldn't have been looking so smug when he glanced over Denver's shoulder at me. So I made a little pit stop and gave Denver a playful hip check. "Are we still on for tomorrow?"
  Wow, it sure hadn't taken me long to make the leap. I'd gone from "Hmm, that's an angle I might be able to work" to "Yup, grabbing that bull by the horns and riding it all the way home" in less than five minutes. That had to have been a record. 
  I didn't linger any longer, not even to rub the salt into Shaw's newly inflicted wound. I'd done it. I'd crossed the line, and there would be no turning back from it now. I didn't know how well I'd sleep that night after that, but I knew it would drive Shaw crazy trying to figure out what had just happened. Somehow, it made it all worth it. At least for now. 
  My week just kept getting worse from there. On Wednesday morning, I avoided him well enough—face-to-face, that is—but there was still the pesky matter of my wandering thoughts and my body's involuntary reaction to those thoughts. On more than one occasion I had to stop what I was doing and start all over again; I simply wasn't processing the words I was reading. 
  I'd zoned again and hadn't even realized it. Shaking myself from the stupor, I looked at Ally. "Did you say something?"
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me another paragraph.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Well, that had me beaming. Denver was feeling properly worshipped, which made me start mentally arranging the furniture in my new office at Striker with the word "PARTNER" in gold on the door. Things were definitely going my way, and all the shit I'd done, all the ladders I'd climbed, all the asses I'd kissed would be worth it in the end. Finally, I'd be able to settle down and know that I'd done it. I'd accomplished something with my life.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last four paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Holding my cell phone in the air, I did a three-sixty. "No service? Is that even possible with today's technology?" I sighed in defeat and shoved my phone back into my pocket. Forget the postcard. I was in the Twilight Zone.
  Behind me, the Whalen House stood proud atop an incline that overlooked not only the bay but also the entire town. And I use the word "town" loosely. How fitting that it should be a place the great counselor Cassidy Whalen called home. Obviously, the high and mighty perch from which she passed judgment had been one she'd inherited at birth. I wouldn't be a bit surprised if I walked inside to find her father was the town's judge, jury, and executioner.
  If I'd been in my right mind, I would've turned around and made my way back to civilization. But again—thanks to the sleep deprivation—I'd traded out "right mind" for "one hallucination short of a padded cell" a long time ago. The one and only order of business at the moment was to make it inside and into a warm, comfortable bed to capitalize on some much-needed downtime for my brain. After that, I'd say my peace to the she-devil and then I'd make my hasty escape back to some normalcy in San Diego, with my new and very lucrative partnership at Striker Sports Entertainment and an extraordinarily exceptional life.
  Yep, everything I'd worked so hard for was just sitting there waiting for me to come live the dream...As soon as I could get free of the nightmare.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Reverse the sentences.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: As soon as I could get free of the nightmare....
  Yep, everything I'd worked so hard for was just sitting there waiting for me to come live the dream. After that, I'd say my peace to the she-devil and then I'd make my hasty escape back to some normalcy in San Diego, with my new and very lucrative partnership at Striker Sports Entertainment and an extraordinarily exceptional life. The one and only order of business at the moment was to make it inside and into a warm, comfortable bed to capitalize on some much-needed downtime for my brain. But again—thanks to the sleep deprivation—I'd traded out "right mind" for "one hallucination short of a padded cell" a long time ago.
  If I'd been in my right mind, I would've turned around and made my way back to civilization. I wouldn't be a bit surprised if I walked inside to find her father was the town's judge, jury, and executioner. Obviously, the high and mighty perch from which she passed judgment had been one she'd inherited at birth. How fitting that it should be a place the great counselor Cassidy Whalen called home. And I use the word "town" loosely.
  Behind me, the Whalen House stood proud atop an incline that overlooked not only the bay but also the entire town. I was in the Twilight Zone. Forget the postcard. "No service? Is that even possible with today's technology?" I sighed in defeat and shoved my phone back into my pocket.Holding my cell phone in the air, I did a three-sixty