A reimagining of the story behind Agent 355--a New York society girl and spy for George Washington during the Revolutionary War--perfect for fans of Julie Berry's The Lovely War . Rebellious Frannie Tasker knows little about the war between England and its thirteen colonies in 1776, until a shipwreck off her home in Grand Bahama Island presents an unthinkable opportunity. The body of a young woman floating in the sea gives Frannie the chance to escape her brutal stepfather--and she takes it. Assuming the identity of the drowned Emmeline Coates, Frannie is rescued by a British merchant ship and sails with the crew to New York. For the next three years, Frannie lives a lie as Miss Coates, swept up in a courtship by a dashing British lieutenant. But after witnessing the darker side of the war, she realizes that her position gives her power. Soon she's eavesdropping on British officers, risking everything to pass information on to George Washington's Culper spy ring as agent 355. Frannie believes in the fight for American liberty--but what will it cost her? Inspired by the true "355" and rich in historical detail and intrigue, this is the story of an unlikely New York society girl turned an even unlikelier spy. “ Rare and compelling . . . . Prepare to be transported.” —Kim Liggett, New York Times  bestselling author of The Grace Year  “With lush prose, rich historical detail, and a heroine that explodes off the page , Rebel Spy is a true feat of fiction. Rossi does more than tell the story of a forgotten American hero: she reminds us how much women have driven the course of history--and how many of them we have forgotten. I could not put this book down .” —Susan Dennard, author of the New York Times bestselling Witchlands series “Love, revolution, intrigue and danger: Rossi has woven a thrilling tale .” —Martha Brockenbrough, author of Alexander Hamilton, Revolutionary “ Fierce , feminist historical fiction! Impeccably researched and irresistibly told.” —Jessica Spotswood, author of A Tyranny of Petticoats "Rich in historical detail and inspired by a true story. . . . A riveting read. " — Kirkus Reviews  " Romance rivals intrigue in a story that readers will find the very opposite of dry history." — Booklist " Rossi excels at portraying the danger of Frannie’s society life and intelligence work while crafting a daring heroine and her compelling exploits ." — Publishers Weekly "A thrilling tale of deception, intrigue, and romance ." — The Bulletin VERONICA ROSSI is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the UNDER THE NEVER SKY series. She was born in Rio de Janeiro, grew up in California, and graduated from UCLA. She lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband and two sons, one of whom just surpassed her in height. Find her online at veronicarossi.com or on Twitter at @rossibooks. Chapter 1 Wrecker West End, Grand Bahama Island August 1776 The last time I ever went wrecking was August of my fifteenth year. I was still just a wild girl then, living in West End, not a thought in my head about war yet, nor about spying. My mind was only on Mama.  She’d passed on to heaven only a week earlier, but in my imagination, she was still breathing. Still singing to herself as she stirred the pepper pot soup. Still telling me stories about her girlhood days in España as she worked a comb through my sea-brined hair.  When Sewel came to fetch me to go wrecking--Sewel was Mama’s husband, not my real papa--he found me in the garden pulling weeds and daydreaming of the great castle in Baiona that Mama used to run through barefoot when she was my age.  “Francisca,” he said, in the same gravelly voice he used with the goats and the swine.  I set my spade down and shaded my eyes as I looked up. With the afternoon sun over his shoulders, I couldn’t see his face--only that he was already swaying. “Yes, sir?”  “Storm’s coming in fast, and the currents is swirling round Valparaíso wreck.” He said it Val-prizo. Not how Mama said it, the right way, like our Spanish forebears. “Get your diving trousers on and don’t make me wait, else you’ll be swimming out there, understand?”  “Yes, sir.”  He leaned over and spat tobacco so close to me I could almost taste it. Then he turned down the beach trail, grunting with every step he took on his foot with the missing toes.  I tugged my gardening apron off and hurried home, eagerness and dread tumbling in my stomach. I loved diving wrecks more than anything, but it meant spending time alone with Sewel.  Pushing through the door, I stopped to breathe in the last traces of Mama’s scent--a mix of sweet coconut and the sour sweat that had come when she’d taken to bed for good. My gaze went to the empty mattress, then to the dirty pots stacked by the basin and the sand dusting the planks beneath my feet. I’d always taken pride in this house. It was made of salvaged ship’s timbers, puzzled together with pine logs I’d helped cut down