conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What could be a title for a book about strong>"I, Aprilynne, Pike with the genre: Teen & Young Adult, Science Fiction & Fantasy?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A title for this book could be 'Die for Me'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: a description for a book titled Die for Me about RITA, Award-winning, Little with the genre: Mystery, Thriller & Suspense, Thrillers & Suspense
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: the author is a RITA Award-winning author who fell in love with books from the time she learned to read, with Jo from Little Women and Nancy Drew becoming close childhood friends. A former chemical engineer and high school chemistry and physics teacher, Karen lives in <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Florida</st1:place></st1:state> with her husband of twenty years, their two children, and the family cat, Bella. For more information, visit her website: www.karenrosebooks.com.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Swap the first and the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: com. A former chemical engineer and high school chemistry and physics teacher, Karen lives in <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Florida</st1:place></st1:state> with her husband of twenty years, their two children, and the family cat, Bella. For more information, visit her website: www.karenrosebooks.the author is a RITA Award-winning author who fell in love with books from the time she learned to read, with Jo from Little Women and Nancy Drew becoming close childhood friends.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the first five paragraphs for this book
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Die for Me
  He thought about her in full costume, swinging that battleax over her head. No fragile flower, she. Yes, he'd need every advantage Pfeiffer's unit could give him.
  Sitting on the bed in his studio, he paused, considering the issue of Dr. Pfeiffer. Pfeiffer and that nurse of his were helping the cops. It was the only explanation for the phone call he'd received. Come and get your lubricant. Ha. He'd honestly thought better of Ciccotelli than that. It was a damn good thing he hadn't allowed Pfeiffer's nurse to photograph him. Otherwise, Ciccotelli would also know his true face. That could present problems the next time he chose to surface with a new life.
  With the death of Sophie Johannsen, all that would be left were the old man's spawn. He smiled, suddenly eager for a family reunion. Especially Daniel. He looked at the trap on the table next to his unfinished matrix. That his beautifully planned graveyard would go unfinished gnawed at him. He would have to make up for it by finishing what his brother had started so many years ago. He'd dreamed of his revenge so many times... Maybe he'd dream of Daniel snared like an animal tonight.
  But he was too restless to sleep. Had his leg been charged, he'd go for a run. He'd need to work off this nervous energy another way, and he had just the right thing. Pulling on his old leg, he crossed to the doors set into the stairwell. Opening them, he smiled. Brewster lay curled in a fetal ball, bound hands and feet. But he breathed.
  The bound man's eyelids flickered, but he made not the slightest noise. Not even a whimper. He could take Brewster standing one-legged in a hurricane. But he had other plans for Alan Brewster. "You know, Alan, I've never properly thanked you. You were the hub that brought my support staff together. How fortuitous that your name was one of the first I found when I searched for experts in medieval warfare. And how fortuitous that you associate with such... helpful merchants." He pulled Brewster so that he sat up, his back propped against the wall.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: three more paragraphs
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: His jaw tightened as his eyes narrowed and once again he jerked her off her feet. "What do you know?"
  Fury gave her courage. "You're wrong. All the people you killed screamed long after you buried them. You just weren't listening. But Vito Ciccotelli was and he always will."
  Selma Crane had lived in a tidy Victorian house before Simon had buried her next to Claire Reynolds in the Winchester field. Vito crept up to the attached garage, weapon in his hand, and looked in the window. Inside was a white van. He nodded to Nick and Liz who stood behind a cruiser at the end of the driveway.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Reverse the sentences.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: He nodded to Nick and Liz who stood behind a cruiser at the end of the driveway.. Inside was a white van. Vito crept up to the attached garage, weapon in his hand, and looked in the window."
  Selma Crane had lived in a tidy Victorian house before Simon had buried her next to Claire Reynolds in the Winchester field. But Vito Ciccotelli was and he always will. You just weren't listening. All the people you killed screamed long after you buried them. "You're wrong. "What do you know?"
  Fury gave her courage.His jaw tightened as his eyes narrowed and once again he jerked her off her feet
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the last five paragraphs
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: It still gave him goosebumps. Still made his blood race and his nostrils flare as he remembered how she'd looked, sounded. Tasted. The taste of pure fear was like nothing else. This he knew.
  He'd chosen her final resting place with equal care. He let her body roll off his back and drop to the soggy ground with a muted thud. He squatted next to her body and arranged the rough brown blanket to cover her like a shroud, his sense of anticipation growing. Sunday was the annual cross-county bicycle race. One hundred cyclists would be passing this way. He'd placed her so that she'd be visible from the road.
  He stood, satisfied with his handiwork. He wanted them to be afraid. He wanted them to shake and tremble like girls. He wanted them to know the true taste of fear.
  Because he knew that taste, just as he knew hunger and fury. That he knew all those flavors so intimately was their fault.
  He looked down at his feet, nudged the brown blanket with his toe. She had paid. Soon, every one of them would suffer and they would pay.