Cover & Excerpt
Agents of Change Book Two
What happens when you throw together a charming Marquess and a lady who lies? Anything!
The Marquess of Dansbury is a charismatic spy who has taken on many difficult tasks for the crown, but none so difficult as protecting Lady Beatryce Beckett. She lies, she cheats, she steals, and she will stop at nothing to get what she wants. Right now, what Lady Beatryce wants is the marquess. But, when you’re on the run from a mad assassin, it’s hard to find the time to profess your love!
England 1814: He is a marquess with a woman to protect and an assassin to thwart. She is…not nice.
The Marquess of Dansbury is a strong, charismatic man living a charmed life as an agent for the crown. His past isn’t without tragedy, but he is too amiable to allow misfortune to mar his positive outlook on life. Until now…when he finds himself tasked with protecting the one woman in the world he actively disdains, Lady Beatryce Beckett.
Lady Beatryce Beckett is mean. She ruins other women on purpose. She lies. She cheats. She even steals. And she takes particular pleasure in provoking a certain marquess. In short, she’ll do anything to get what she wants: freedom from her abusive father. But she is strong (she’s had to be), worthy (who’d have thought it), and in love… Wait, what?
It will take a special man to see the true woman beneath the surface…and a strong woman to allow him that glimpse. Is the Marquess of Dansbury up to the task?
Genre: Historical RomancePurchase link(s): LSB Amazon ARe BAM iTunes Kobo B&N
Content/Theme(s): Regency, Spies, Humor, Mystery, Suspense
Release Date: December 7, 2015
Publisher: Liquid Silver Books
Excerpt & More
“Bea, we have a problem. My clothes are gone.”
That got her attention. She turned back around to face him, her eyes wide. “What do you mean gone?”
“I mean gone. They were in the loft and now they’re not.” He still couldn’t believe it.
“Did you check the floor below? I may have knocked them off last night.” She blushed again as she likely thought of what she’d seen because she’d ventured outside the hayloft last night.
Yea, they’d definitely address that later.
“I checked every inch of this barn from top to bottom. Three times. They are not here.”
Her eyes widened again and then she burst out laughing. Not a titter or a giggle. No, not Beatryce. No, she let loose a hard belly-aching-side-splitting laugh that almost made him laugh, too. Despite the seriousness of his predicament.
“Bea, it’s not funny,” he said with a smile. He couldn’t help it.
“Oh, it is funny…ha ha ha…all right. It’s very…tee hee…funny. It is absolutely…snort…unbelievably hysterical, it’s so funny.” She managed between large, wailing guffaws and the odd snort or two. He could not believe she was laughing about this.
She laughed that much harder.
“Fine, it might be a little funny, but it’s still a problem. So if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you could pull yourself together and give me a hand with this.”
She just doubled over and laughed some more and it made him want to gather her up in his arms and kiss her senseless. Which was absurd. Apparently, taking the edge off last night hadn’t helped. God, he was in a bad way.
But she just looked so carefree when she laughed, with her head tilted back and her arms wrapped around her waist. Her laughter was the thing that had attracted him the first time he’d seen her on that darkened terrace so long ago. Her laugh; it held the power to captivate him.
Every time her amusement began to subside, she’d look at him and start howling and snorting all over again.
“Don’t look at me if it’s going to make you laugh,” he said with a bit of a chuckle himself.
It seemed like ten minutes passed before her laughter began to trail off for good. He’d long since given up squatting and was sitting on his bottom with his back against the wall.
Her laughter was only coming in fits and giggles now. When her breathing finally returned to some semblance of normalcy, she said, “All right. I’ll help you look around and see what we can find,” as she wiped the remains of tears from her eyes.
Half an hour later they knew exactly what had happened. He, with a scratchy blanket wrapped around him like an ill-fitting toga, and she, with her perfectly functional oversized dress (he was actually a touch jealous now) managed to find the remains of his clothes hanging from the mouths of a pair of goats.
And there was nothing left to salvage, damned beasties.
The sight of his shredded clothes started Beatryce’s hysterics all over again. He crossed his arms and tapped his fingers impatiently, but with a small smile, as he waited for her to calm down. Again.
“Are you finished?”
“Perhaps,” she said with more than a little cheek. She was in a damn fine mood this morning, all things considered.
“Good, then let’s move on and see if we can find an abandoned house to go with this barn. Perhaps we’ll get lucky and find me some more appropriate clothing.”
“Fine,” she chuckled again, “I’ll go to the left, and you head out to the right. We’ll meet back here in an hour.” Snort.
He shook his head. “Bea, I cannot have you wandering off on your own.”
“Please, don’t be ridiculous. I’ll be fine. There is no one here for miles. And I know what I’m about. Worry about yourself. That blanket offers scant protection for your backside.” And she left, laughing again as she walked away.
He reluctantly let her go.
An hour later, he returned to the barn with nothing to show for his search save a few scratches on his exposed arms and legs and a new tear in his blanket-dress. He refused to acknowledge the thorns he’d had to pull out of his arse. Stupid briars.
He hoped to God Bea’d had better luck. He tried not to worry over the fact that she wasn’t back.
Ten minutes later, though, and he was prepared to go searching for her. It was with relief when he heard her call out. “Dansbury?”
“Here…” He stood away from the barn wall.
She stepped out of the woods with her arms behind her back and a wide smile on her face. “Well, I’ve got some good news and some bad news.”
“All right…” he said with some hesitation.
“The good news is I found some clothes, but…”
“Weeelll, they’re not exactly what you had in mind.”
Slowly, she pulled one arm from behind her back and with a face devoid of any trace of humor, held out an over-sized…
A large, multi-flowered, grease-splattered, heavily-patched, tent-sized dress. One that made hers look like it was custom-made from the pages of La Belle Assemble.
“Are you crazy?” Was she crazy?
“Well, it is better than what you’ve got on now.” She nodded at his toga blanket. “At least this will stay…up.”
He stared her down and tried to determine whether or not she was serious.
Her mouth didn’t even twitch.
Damn. She was. She was honest to God serious, and he could scarcely believe it. He shook his head in disbelief when he realized she was right. He had no choice. Damn.
He turned to go inside the barn. “Fine. Bring it.” He turned and pointed a finger at her. “But turn your back.”
Yea. His request was ridiculous. She’s seen him completely naked. Twice. But for some reason it felt wrong to let her see him put on a dress. A dress!
Once inside, he took the frock and waited for her to turn her back before he threw the dress over his head and gathered up his blanket.
The dress sagged in the front. And he could smell smoke and bacon. Among other unmentionable things. Well, at least they’d be outside. And it was only temporary. God, his friends would never let him live it down; he’d earn himself a nickname for sure if they could see him.
But he would manage; he was no coward.
Though he didn’t even look in Bea’s direction as he marched past and said, “Come on, let’s go.”
She didn’t follow. Instead, she started laughing all over again. He stopped and beseeched the heavens. Then he turned to look back at her.
Tears streamed down her face, she was laughing so hard. Yea, he looked ludicrous.
He knew it. And he couldn’t help but start laughing, too. Laughter truly was contagious. It was all so unbelievably preposterous; he couldn’t invent such a ridiculous situation even if he tried.
Oddly enough, she started shaking her head no. Strange.
“No? Why are you shaking your head no?” he said between his own fits of laughter.
“B-b-b-because. You d-didn’t let me f-finish.”
“Finish? Finish what?” He was no longer laughing. He had a sinking feeling in his gut.
“Showing you…snort…my…er…your…other option.”
Then, she pulled her other arm from behind her back and held out a pair of men’s trousers and a shirt.
She shrieked as he hiked up his day dress and charged.
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Be on the lookout for Amy Quinton's future release(s): What the Scot Hears coming late Spring 2016, and Agents of Change, Book 4 coming late Fall 2016
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