conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What could be a title for a story about Brielle, Dante, Unfortunately with the genre: Literature & Fiction, United States?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A title for this story could be 'A Woman Scorned'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me a description for a story titled A Woman Scorned about Veteran, Author, Erotic with the genre: Literature & Fiction, Erotica.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: the author is a Veteran Author of Erotic Urban Fiction. He holds degrees in Behavioral Science &amp; Public Relations. Darrin is from the south side of Chicago. He presently lives in Justice Illinois and is working on a third degree in counseling at National Louis University.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Swap the first and the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: He presently lives in Justice Illinois and is working on a third degree in counseling at National Louis University. He holds degrees in Behavioral Science &amp; Public Relations. Darrin is from the south side of Chicago.the author is a Veteran Author of Erotic Urban Fiction.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first three paragraphs for this story.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A Woman Scorned
  Casey liked Simmons, in spite of—or because of—his old-fashioned ways and opinions. Besides which, he was a darn good editor.
  Ozeroff, however, often found their editor tiresome and slow to make decisions. She was also envious of his large, mostly empty office, which he had all to himself. "You ready to talk about trading offices yet, Percy?" she sometimes asked him when she was in a combative mood. "There's three of us in here," she used to say before Jack Wexler retired, "jammed together like goldfish in a pickle jar while skinny little you rattles around that huge office like a bluebottle in a greenhouse. Where's your sense of fairness? Where's your sense of common dec—?"
  Simmons always ignored Ozeroff's complaints, rolling his eyes to the ceiling and emitting a long-suffering sigh.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me four more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Casey's usual view of Councilor Brill was from behind his media desk. From there, she appeared to be attractive. But close up, Angela Brill wasn't merely attractive—she was beautiful. Classic features, straight, fine blond hair to below the shoulders. Hazel eyes and a peaches-and-cream complexion. All packaged alluringly in a gray skirt, white shirt and black heels. Tiny invisible motes of expensive perfume circled about her.
  She was a cool customer, he could see that. Perfect control. He wasn't about to win her with flattery.
  She said nothing, but for a brief instant something happened in her eyes. Casey caught a sense of her pulling back, losing a thin slice of that perfect control.
  Brill blushed. "It's short for Calista, my middle name. Friends call me Cally. I occasionally called him at home, yes. But only if there was something important on my mind regarding council business."
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last five paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: It was DI Plank. He carried a pineapple. He looked uncomfortable. "Can't say I'm surprised to find you in hospital, Casey," he said. "I warned you, remember?"
  Plank looked at his watch. "Since ten thirty last night. It's now almost ten thirty in the morning. Twelve hours."
  Plank stood and reached for his coat. "Not until we've got her statement and the prosecutor gives the okay. Be a few days. We searched her place. Got the shoes. Got the hoodie. Looks like it's got blood on it. DNA could tie it to the murder scene." Plank put on his coat. "Gotta go." He looked at the nurse. "You keeping him here awhile?"
  With the pale blue eyes of her Norman-Irish ancestors, her fine dark brown hair and the freckles arching over her nose like a sprinkling of sand, she was even more beautiful than he remembered. Her warm personality engulfed Casey. Here she was, the bringer of light and air and color to his life.
  The sun was shining. Outside, as the train raced through the Richmond countryside, trees were in full leaf, thick and verdant, promising a long, green summer.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Swap the first and the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Outside, as the train raced through the Richmond countryside, trees were in full leaf, thick and verdant, promising a long, green summer. He carried a pineapple. He looked uncomfortable. "Can't say I'm surprised to find you in hospital, Casey," he said. "I warned you, remember?"
  Plank looked at his watch. "Since ten thirty last night. It's now almost ten thirty in the morning. Twelve hours."
  Plank stood and reached for his coat. "Not until we've got her statement and the prosecutor gives the okay. Be a few days. We searched her place. Got the shoes. Got the hoodie. Looks like it's got blood on it. DNA could tie it to the murder scene." Plank put on his coat. "Gotta go." He looked at the nurse. "You keeping him here awhile?"
  With the pale blue eyes of her Norman-Irish ancestors, her fine dark brown hair and the freckles arching over her nose like a sprinkling of sand, she was even more beautiful than he remembered. Her warm personality engulfed Casey. Here she was, the bringer of light and air and color to his life.
  The sun was shining.It was DI Plank.