conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What could be a title for a book about University, span>the, Annapolis with the genre: Literature & Fiction, Genre Fiction?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A title for this book could be 'Disenchanted'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know the first five paragraphs for this book? Start with the sentence 'Disenchanted
  Once upon a time'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Disenchanted
  Once upon a time...That is how a good story should begin or so I have been told. These tales always seem to involve a poor but sweet young maiden who attends a royal ball, falls in love with a charming prince and lives happily ever.
  This is not my story. While I am certainly poor enough, no one would ever describe me as sweet and our kingdom's prince is far from charming. When I did get the chance to go to a ball, my mind was more set on burglary than falling in love and...But I am getting ahead of myself.
  My story actually starts on what promised to be another ordinary day until someone came hammering at my front door with enough force to snap the ancient brass lion knocker in half. At that moment, I was kneeling in front of the library hearth, ramming a long-handled broom up the chimney while soot sifted down over my face and hands, speckling the apron I wore over my old grey woolen gown. Only the kerchief knotted about my head prevented my hair from becoming a shade of ash blond. I was in no fit state to receive callers.
  I knew both of my stepsisters were near at hand, entertaining one of their vapid beaux in the parlor. But when Amy and Netta were anywhere in the vicinity of an eligible young man, they tended to become so pixified that it affected their hearing. There was no response to my plea other than the sound of muffled giggling.
  I sighed, hoping whoever was at the front door would have the wit to go away and come back later. I gave the broom another shove, but only succeeded in dislodging a little more soot. There was definitely something up there blocking the flue, some poor swallow perhaps or even an owl. I flexed my shoulder muscles and rammed harder. There was a loud crack as the ancient broom snapped in half.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know four more paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Vanished? I felt the color drain from my face as I recalled Mal's grim reaction when I had told him of Crushington's pledge to hunt down my attacker and arrest him.
  I smiled weakly, hoping that Iggy wouldn't be found floating facedown in the Conger River. How far would Mal go in his zeal to avenge me? Even I was not sure.
  Suddenly I was aware of how close I stood to Crushington. I could feel the warmth of his palms through the worn fabric of my gown and experienced that same curious tingle as I had when he had blown on my wrist. His deep grey eyes seemed to turn to smoke. I sensed how badly he wanted to kiss me even though I had little experience of such things.
  There was my experiment with Mal when we were twelve, an awkward and uncomfortable experience for both of us that had involved more bumping of noses than actual lip contact. Other than that, there had only been my trysts with Harper, all those sweet, stolen kisses that had caused me to believe I would never want to feel any other man's arms around me but his.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Swap the first and the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Other than that, there had only been my trysts with Harper, all those sweet, stolen kisses that had caused me to believe I would never want to feel any other man's arms around me but his.
  I smiled weakly, hoping that Iggy wouldn't be found floating facedown in the Conger River. How far would Mal go in his zeal to avenge me? Even I was not sure.
  Suddenly I was aware of how close I stood to Crushington. I could feel the warmth of his palms through the worn fabric of my gown and experienced that same curious tingle as I had when he had blown on my wrist. His deep grey eyes seemed to turn to smoke. I sensed how badly he wanted to kiss me even though I had little experience of such things.
  There was my experiment with Mal when we were twelve, an awkward and uncomfortable experience for both of us that had involved more bumping of noses than actual lip contact.Vanished? I felt the color drain from my face as I recalled Mal's grim reaction when I had told him of Crushington's pledge to hunt down my attacker and arrest him.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know the last four paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: It amazed him that no one else could see it, even her own brothers. They thought she'd outgrown her childish yearnings for adventure and equality, but he knew better. No doubt that was why she'd come here tonight; she simply could not resist an adventure.
  She placed her empty glass on the tray offered by a passing servant. She was so small he could tuck the top of her head under his chin and pull her into his side. His hip would fit neatly into the curve of her waist. Her breasts would press perfectly into his chest. His mouth would fit precisely—
  Raven banged his head against the pillar. Insane. Which was ironic, really. He'd managed to remain compos mentis despite spending eight weeks of his life locked up in a cell expecting to be executed. He'd witnessed some of the worst sights a decade of warfare could inflict upon a man and stayed sane. Yet Hellcat Hampden made him crazy. And, idiot that he was, he enjoyed it.
  He stepped up behind her and caught a hint of her midnight-and-roses scent. It tightened his gut and turned his knees to water, but he composed his features into their usual expression of cynical boredom. The day she discovered the effect she had on him was the day he'd cut his own wrists. Not. For. Him.