Operation Valentine: #NewRelease Sneak Peek

Operation Valentine, book 2 of the Operation Romance series, releases on Tuesday (February 2nd)! If you haven’t pre-ordered it yet, you can still do so for just $0.99, but the price will go up on release day.

Once love is lost, can it be found?

When Annabelle Elliot returned his engagement ring six years ago, Rick Wentworth buried his broken heart in his job at Intelligence Associates, Inc. Returning from his overseas assignment, a newly awarded contract forces him into daily contact with her.

Working with Rick is a constant reminder of what Annabelle gave up when she let herself be persuaded to focus on a career instead of love. Now, she admits she made a mistake, but reconciliation seems impossible.

Can Annabelle find the courage to let Rick see her heart? And if she does, will he forgive her?

This sweet contemporary Christian romance novella, inspired by Jane Austen’s Persuasion, is a modern reminder that love is worth waiting for.

In preparation for release, I thought it’d be fun to share an excerpt with you. Enjoy!

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Annabelle frowned at her reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of her closet door. Black slacks, purple blouse, and ballet flats. Did she look like a bruise? It was still chilly. Maybe she should wear a sweater instead? Although her sweaters were all black. Then she’d look like a Goth. Did they still call them that? She buried her face in her hands. She needed to get out more.

Even thinking the words sent her heart into overdrive. Getting out meant crowds. Bumping into people. Close talkers. Small talk. Ugh. Maybe she should just call Tori back and let her know she’d changed her mind and wouldn’t be coming after all. Annabelle winced as her mother’s constant reminders to be polite rang through her mind. Cancelling at the last minute wasn’t polite.

She cast a final, longing glance at the pajama pants tossed on the single bed she’d stuffed between the bookshelves lining the walls of her bedroom-slash-library and grabbed a wool blazer in a black and purple houndstooth pattern off a hanger. It turned the outfit into something more appropriate for a business meeting than a dinner party, but it got rid of the bruise comparison. At least in her mind.

Get a grip. And then a move on. There was nothing quite like being late to draw attention to yourself and that was something she absolutely wanted to avoid. If she was lucky, Annabelle could get there, stake out a corner, and chat with Tori the rest of the evening. What had she been thinking when she agreed to this?

She grabbed the zippered pouch that served as her wallet and phone holder, double checked that she had her keys, and forced herself out of the bedroom, through the mostly-barren living room—she really needed to do something about a couch, grownups had couches—and out the door of her condo. Annabelle twisted the doorknob. Locked. She blew out a breath. That was the hardest step, getting out of the house. Shaking her head, she went down the hall to the elevators. Her car would be happy to see her. If cars had emotions. She was going to say something like that out loud at this party and reveal herself as the biggest dork on the planet. She should just go back…the elevator arrived, its doors opening with a quiet ding. Okay. She could do this.

It was a pretty straight shot from Reston to Clifton. Back roads, which made the trek somewhat more enjoyable. Of course, they were all still fairly major roads, for all they weren’t the Interstate. Before long, Annabelle turned into the driveway as her phone’s GPS announced her arrival. There were only two cars in the paved area in front of the large farmhouse. Either she was still early or everyone else carpooled. She parked next to a shiny, black pickup. It had to be new. Either that or the owner never drove it. Or he washed it religiously. Had to be a he. Not that women couldn’t drive trucks, but this truck oozed masculinity.

She patted the roof of her car as she closed the door and hit lock on her key fob. The sedan might be up there in years, but it was still a solid, reliable mode of transportation for the rare occasions when she needed to leave the house.

Swallowing the metallic tang at the back of her throat, Annabelle climbed the steps to the porch and pressed the doorbell before she had a chance to talk herself out of it. It was dinner. With a friend. Sort of friend. She breathed in through her nose and held the air in her lungs, willing her heart to slow and her muscles to quit jumping.

“You’re here!” Tori grinned, bouncing on her sock-clad feet. “Come in, come in. I’m so glad you made it. I started worrying you were going to bail at the last minute, and I seriously need someone who doesn’t work at Intelligence Associates to talk to. They get going and…it’s crazy.”

Annabelle stepped in and glanced down at Tori’s feet. “Do I need to…”

“What? Oh. Shoes? No, you’re fine. Unless you want to. Gabe’s pretty laid back. Come on back, we’re in the kitchen.” Tori shut the door and headed across the sprawling, yet homey, living room.

She focused on her breathing for a few breaths before following. Intelligence Associates? How had she missed that? Or did Tori not mention that her fiancé was Gabe Robertson? Maybe she hadn’t said. Annabelle smoothed her blazer. At least she looked professional, so if they made the connection between her and the contracting proposal she’d submitted last night just under the deadline, she wouldn’t be embarrassed.

“Gabe, this is Annabelle Elliot, Annabelle, Gabe Robertson, my fiancé.” Tori grinned as she said the last word, her left hand flexing on Gabe’s arm. “And this is Rick Wentworth. He works with Gabe at IA. They both went to college with us, but neither you nor I really hung in those circles.”

The words in Annabelle’s throat turned to dust and her gaze flicked to the broad-shouldered man sitting on a stool at the kitchen island, his back to her. Rick? Rick was here? He couldn’t be here, he worked in Germany or Afghanistan or something. The edges of her vision began to blur and she took Gabe’s outstretched hand on autopilot. His mouth was moving, but the sound was as if she was submerged under twelve feet of water. Rick turned and gave a brief, disinterested nod and the world snapped back into focus. She cleared her throat and offered a tight smile. “Thanks for having me.”

Tori shot her a confused look. “You need any help, Gabe?”

He shook his head. “I’ve got this. Why don’t the two of you go relax in the living room? If I need something, I’ll holler. Or I’ll make Rick earn his keep.”

“Whatever.” Rick’s baritone held the same dry humor he’d had in college. “I’ve barely been back in the States two days. Plus I’m on vacation, remember?”

“Vacation isn’t something he fully understands, Rick, you ought to know that.” Tori grinned. “He takes December off and still manages to work the whole time.”

Gabe flicked his fingers at Tori. “Go. No women allowed in the kitchen. New rule.”

“That is a rule I can get behind. Come on, Annabelle, we’ll turn the fireplace on.” Tori hooked her arm through Annabelle’s and tugged.

Annabelle flinched but didn’t jerk her arm away. What was it with people and touching? As they passed through to the living room, she eased away and angled toward a mission-style armchair done in rich, chocolate leather that offset the honey brown of the oak spindles perfectly. Gabe had good taste. Or was Tori helping him with decorating?

“It’s all Gabe. He’s lived here a few years. I still have my own apartment near the paper, ‘til we’re married.”

Heat flared across her cheeks and she closed her eyes. Maybe the chair would swallow her whole and put her out of her misery. “I said that out loud.”

Tori laughed. “You did. It’s okay. I think he’s got good taste, too.” She paused, tilting her head to one side. “Are you okay?”

No. No, she wasn’t okay. Rick was sitting in the next room and didn’t even seem to recognize her. It had been six years. But still. Somewhere in the back of her mind she’d hoped he was just as unable to get over their breakup as she was. “Sure. Yeah. I’m…kind of out of practice with the getting together with friends thing. How long have you and Gabe been engaged?”

“Four days.” Tori grinned. “And we’re planning to get married next December, in case you’re wondering. So, long engagement. But we really only started dating around Christmas.”

“Wow. That’s…fast. That’s like nine weeks.”

Tori shrugged a shoulder. “Like I said, long engagement makes sense. What about you? No one special on the radar?”

Annabelle scoffed. “Who has time? I pretty much work twenty-four-seven. Or six. I try to make it six. But when you’re running a one-person software development company, there’s always something to do. If I’m not coding, I’m looking for jobs to bid, and if I’m not doing that, I’m actually putting bids together.”

“Why not just get a regular job?” Tori winced. “I didn’t mean…”

“No, it’s a good question…it’s just kind of complicated to answer.”