conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What could be a title for a story about Landon, Reed, Harry with the genre: Mystery, Thriller & Suspense, Thrillers & Suspense?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A title for this story could be 'Dead Lawyers Tell No Tales'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first four paragraphs for this story.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Dead Lawyers Tell No Tales
  When Brent first suggested his plan, Rachel thought he was crazy. But he convinced her that Cipher had tentacles everywhere and that Glaxon-Forrester would never leave them alone. Why not kill two birds with one stone? Fake their deaths and live happily ever after in a tropical paradise.
  They used a little sleight of hand when boarding the plane at the Allegheny airport. Rachel arrived in a limo as Brent was completing the preflight. The stairs to the jet were on the opposite side of the plane from the small brick terminal. She boarded as Rachel Strach—short skirt, tight sweater, something memorable in case anybody was watching. A few minutes later, she walked down the steps dressed in the black uniform of a chauffeur, silly hat and all.
  A half hour later, Brent took off alone. She and Brent had prerecorded some conversations that he played during the flight so ground control could hear the voice of Rachel Strach. He bailed over the Chesapeake Bay, right after confirming his final approach, just before the explosion. A former buddy from his SEAL team triggered the fireworks from a boat and plucked Brent out of the water.
  They had already started their new life in Rio de Janeiro when an unexpected twist occurred—something that even the warped mind of Parker Clausen, in his most convoluted novel, would never have dreamed up. Elias King rehired the firm. Rachel and Brent knew Parker would be ecstatic. He could now ensure that Cipher was never implicated. But they worried for Landon's safety. What if he figured out Sean Phoenix's involvement in Erica Jensen's death or the insider trading scheme, like Harry had done? Somebody, sometime, had to stop Cipher and Sean Phoenix.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me three more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: He couldn't get his mind off that SEC Championship Game—the fourth quarter, the game-winning drive. He had blocked the linebacker instead of taking out the nose tackle. Landon had been blindsided and fumbled. Game over.
  But by the time the syndicate tried to pay him for it—seventy-five thousand, just as they had agreed—the guilt had taken over, and he had refused their "blood money." It was the same syndicate that had convinced Landon to shave a few points in two regular-season games earlier that year. Landon had refused to cooperate in the championship. That's when the syndicate had approached Billy instead.
  When Billy finally took time to read the Bible, nobody had to explain to him what grace meant. He had seen it with his own eyes.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last five paragraphs.. End with the sentence ' Jeremy Taylor, Stephanie Broene, Cheryl Kerwin, and the excellent team at Tyndale House took it from there, bringing the story to life and devising ways to let you know about it.'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The audacity of it made me catch my breath. I was an advocate. And as I had observed this man in front of Pilate—the give and take, the silent confidence, the questions he posed—I sensed that I might be watching the greatest advocate of them all.
  The crowd formed a crushing ring on the outskirts of the marble judgment hall. I was told they had started lining up at midnight. They seemed to pulse in as the charges were read, the men in the second and third rows standing on their toes to get a better view as I rose to address the emperor.
  I bent down... slowly, theatrically. I knelt there on one knee and took a last glance at Nero before I wrote the first name. I used the black ink—ground charcoal mixed with gum arabic—a nice contrast against the white stone. The crowd surged in a little, and a murmur started to spread. Nero leaned forward in his seat.
  The first name created a buzz of excitement, a shot of adrenaline that coursed through the crowd on this hot, steamy day.
  I'll start with Lee Hough, my good friend and great agent, who provided invaluable insight at the concept stage. Thanks also to Mary Hartman, who performed her usual stellar work reviewing the first draft. Jeremy Taylor, Stephanie Broene, Cheryl Kerwin, and the excellent team at Tyndale House took it from there, bringing the story to life and devising ways to let you know about it.