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Yappy Hour Times THREE! (Roundup Crew Mystery Series E-BOOKS 1-3)

Yappy Hour Times THREE! (Roundup Crew Mystery Series E-BOOKS 1-3)

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~ From the USA Today Bestselling Author of Bundle of Trouble 
Enjoy the first THREE books in the Roundup Crew Mystery Series:

Murder at Yappy Hour
Trigger Yappy
Fleeced at Yappy Hour

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️"Enjoy this hilarious series.”—Kate Carlisle, New York Times bestselling author
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️“Howlingly funny! Orgain’s talent for humor and romance shine in this thoroughly delightful mystery series!"–Krista Davis, New York Times bestselling author


When a handsome stranger whisks into Pacific Cove everyone (and their dogs) takes notice...

Four dog owners with a few tricks up their sleeves
A female sleuth in over her head
A careful cop protecting his promotion
A talented chef romanced the town
A stolen painting
Welcome to...

In the peaceful coastal town of Pacific Cove, four unlikely friends meet weekly at the beach to walk their dogs, they call themselves the Roundup Crew.

When a stranger whisks into town and things begin to disappear, the crew suddenly finds themselves in the middle of Yappy Hour discussing suspects.

As the crimes begin to mount, can our hilarious gang, along with the help of their canine crew, catch the thief, before it's too late?

Chapter One Look Inside

Chapter One

“Where on earth is Yolanda?” I balanced a tray of wine glasses with my right hand, pivoted on my left heel, and then... there was a flash of black fur and a tiny beast flew at my feet, bark-ing and snarling like a demon.
"Now," I scolded the dog. "Don't trip me up."
The dog, a tiny chihuahua, flared his teeth at me.
"Really?" I challenged, showing him my teeth. That seemed to do the trick. The dog growled and then shook. Retreating to his owner, he chanced a sideways glance at me. I giggled.
The dog scooted under his owner's chair, trembling, and yapped at me. Strange little creatures always growling or shaking.
My thoughts returned to my friend Yolanda. She was MIA, while I was here, playing server at the Wine and Bark. I was currently cursing her and my sister, Rachel, for thinking it would be a fantastic idea to host a fundraiser for Bogden Elementary School tonight, hoping it would drive some business while simultaneously helping the elementary school.
Rachel wouldn’t have confirmed it if I asked, but I had a feeling this was more about the bar than the school, at least on her end. Ever since Kitty Corner had opened a few weeks ago, her business had been suffering. The Kitty Corner was a nearby shop that catered to cats. Basically, it was Wine and Bark’s number-one competition for cool pet hangouts. I could see the stress on Rachel’s face whenever she looked over the cash drawer at the end of the night.
“Can I have another sticker, please?” I was torn from ruminating on Rachel and the circum-stances of the Wine and Bark by a high-pitched, innocent-sounding voice.
“Of course,” Officer Brad Brooks replied to the kid with a grin, pulling another shiny silver sticker from his pocket and handing it to the little seven-year-old. “Now, you guys have to get out of this bar and onto the patio. Section 25665 of the California Alcoholic Beverage Control statute states that minors may not enter or remain within a bar.”
All the moms around the kids thought that line was an absolute hoot, and they chuckled de-lightedly as he turned, his pressed police uniform rustling with the movement, and herded a group of about ten kids out of the bar. A few feet away, I watched the Roundup Crew collec-tively sigh at him in gratitude, clearly annoyed with the sudden presence of children in a place made solely for their pooches.
Seeing Brad with kids warmed my heart and kicked butterflies up into my stomach. I wasn’t the sort of woman to swoon over a man being sweet to children, but somehow, seeing Brad with the little munchkins brought a smile to my face.
Brad and I had started dating a few weeks back, and although I knew we weren’t serious, there were definitely moments I wish we were.
To my left, my beloved Roundup Crew and all of their pups were gathered in the very center of the restaurant. The dogs were basking in the glow of the children’s affection, while their par-ents stood by, watching every single child like they thought their dogs were in mortal danger.
Frankly, I didn’t blame the parents. I hadn’t been much of a doggie person until this summer, and they were growing on me quickly. When I’d first arrived in Pacific Cove, I’d thought all of this (aka take your dog with you to the local tavern!) was absolute insanity. But, in the last few months, I’d slowly grown to love not only the craziness of my doggie friends but much of the quirky town too.
I wandered up to Rachel, sweating behind the bar as she poured yet another glass of red wine for a demanding elementary mom.
“This is a success, don’t you think?” Rachel asked, grinning at me, her cheeks nearly as red as the wine. I could still see the bags under her eyes, the product of a nasty bout with salmonella and a very long stay in the hospital a few weeks ago. But, thankfully, she was much better, and mostly back to being my loving, sometimes closed-off little sister.
“I agree.” I nodded, glancing around. “We are missing someone, though.”
Rachel looked up, concern crossing her face, then she glanced at the waiting mom, who bare-ly registered me.
“I don’t mean anything nefarious,” I clarified quickly. Here in Pacific Cove, an ominous sen-tence like that normally meant that someone had been murdered, kidnapped, or a combination of both. I’d walked in on a few too many bodies thanks to that.
Rachel sighed gratefully, then offered the mom an awkward smile as she slid the glass across the bar. “What do you mean then?” she asked me.
“Yolanda!” I replied, shocked that Rachel hadn’t noticed. “Our perky blonde friend is suspi-ciously absent.”
“Oh, yeah,” Rachel shrugged, turning around to pour whiskey on the rocks. “She said she couldn’t make it tonight.”
“Yolanda told you she was missing a social function and you didn’t question it?”
“Uhhhh, well, when you put it like that,” Rachel grimaced, plopping her hands on her hips in typical Rachel fashion. “That’s, um, a little strange.”
“A lot strange,” I replied, trying to quell the sinking fear in my gut.
As I said, when unusual things happened in Pacific Cove, in my experience someone had usually found themself on the wrong end of a grudge and was lying on the floor with blood seeping out of them like juice from a fruit Gusher.
I wandered away from the bar and into the kitchen, where I was about to grab my phone from my back pocket when a warm hand stopped me.
“Hey there, stranger.” Gus grinned down at me, his hair flopping over his forehead, the tini-est bit damp with sweat. I found myself licking my lips and trying not to openly drool. Some-thing happened to my insides when I watched Gus in the kitchen- something I definitely couldn’t talk about in proper company.
I’d really never found myself dating two guys at once, but that was the predicament I cur-rently found myself in. Who could I possibly choose between a charming chef or my lovely law enforcement friend? Then again, at the moment neither was asking me to choose…so…I was temporarily putting aside my monogamist tendencies.
Gus was the new sole owner of DelVecchio’s, a restaurant right across from the Wine and Bark. It used to belong to him and his best friend, Dan, but Dan was murdered the same week I arrived in Pacific Cove. I didn’t know back then that Dan’s death would be the first in a string of terrible incidents around my little town- incidents that I somehow managed to keep getting involved with.
“Hey,” I replied with a soft smile. “So, how’s cooking in a normal kitchen?”
“The ones in New York were better, but the company here can’t be beat,” he chuckled, glanc-ing around at the decidedly not million-dollar kitchen. Just a few weeks ago, Gus had been com-peting in a national cooking competition show filmed in New York. He didn’t say it out loud, but I could tell that he’d loved his time there, and would probably go back if he got the chance. “Who are you calling?”
“Yolanda. She’s suspiciously absent,” I said.
“Ah, I was wondering why there wasn’t any screaming laughter, aside from the children,” Gus mused, poking fun at our dear friend.
I chuckled, then watched as he shuffled awkwardly on his feet, glancing out toward the pa-tio where Brad was still entertaining the kids- and a good deal of the moms, too. Then, abruptly, he squeezed my shoulder in a tight hug, wiped a bead of sweat off his brow, and went back to work on the ten orders he had lined up.
Quickly, I turned back to the phone, dialing Yolanda’s number and quelling the annoying flutter of nerves in my stomach.
She’s totally fine, Maggie, I reassured myself. Maybe she just got busy.
“Hello?” spoke a voice said from the other end.
Relief flooded through me when I heard her voice come through the phone. “Yolanda! You’re home!”
“Yeah,” she replied breathlessly. “Mags, what’s going on?”
I replied with a groan. “I can’t survive fundraiser night without you. Where are you?”
“Home,” she replied as if it was obvious. “I have so much to do! I couldn’t come to the Wine and Bark and be surrounded by children and barking dogs and, just, oh my Lord, it would have been an absolute mess.”
“And this is absolutely out of character,” I informed her. “Are you all right? Are you sick, or something? Do you need Gus to make some soup? I’ll bring it over to you.”
“God, no, I couldn’t eat a thing,” she sighed. “There is far too much to do. Beepo! Don’t scratch at that!”
Never in my life did I think I’d live to see the day that Yolanda yelled at her precious little terror of a dog. Something was really wrong.
Gus caught my eye across the kitchen, furrowing his brow in curiosity. All I could do was shrug, though. Even I had no idea what was going on with Yolanda right then.
“Uh, Yo, you’re yelling at Beepo,” I pointed out hesitantly.
“Yes, because he won’t stop scratching at the darn door! He only got three walks today and doesn’t understand that Mommy needs a break,” Yolonda said.
I could practically hear the stress breaking her vocal cords apart and made a split-second de-cision. Yolanda wasn’t dead, thankfully, but I was getting a little worried that she might end up killing someone in this state, maybe some innocent bystander who just so happened to look at her sideways.
“Listen, the fundraiser’s over at nine,” I told my friend. “I’ll stop by after and bring you a burger, okay?”
“Dog in the kitchen!” One of the servers came running past me, a tiny, furious little chihua-hua on his tail, snapping at his jeans. “Dog in the kitchen!”
“Hector, get that dog out of there!” Rachel shouted as Hector, the server, raced past her, ab-solutely terrified of the little demon on his heels. “Who’s dog is that?”
A flurry of activity kicked up in the dining room as the little terror raced around, getting chased by at least two servers and all the kids.
“Well, that sounds like an absolute riot, I should let you go,” Yolanda said suddenly, hanging up before I could even protest.
That was quite unlike my darling blonde friend. She might have her head in the clouds half the time, but they were always pretty and fluffy. The clouds that had gotten her head tonight seemed like stormy, dark ones filled with rain.
Maybe she and her boyfriend, Sergeant Gottlieb, had gotten into a fight. That would explain her strange demeanor. Gottlieb was an odd man, one whom I’d run into more than once on my investigations, and even on a date with Brad. He was sort of rough around the edges and suspi-cious of everyone he met, which was why it had been nearly impossible for me to picture him and Yolanda together.
“Maggie! I could use a little help out here!” Rachel called.
I shoved Yolanda from my mind and hurried out to help, bracing myself for whatever child-ish disaster was imminent.  

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