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The Ultimate eBook Bundle (instant download)

The Ultimate eBook Bundle (instant download)

Regular price $27.00 USD
Regular price $56.00 USD Sale price $27.00 USD
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Grab this grand collection of fast-paced and fun mysteries by USA Today Bestselling Author, Diana Orgain. Get ready for non-stop laughs, twisty plots, and unforgettable characters that will keep you guessing whodunit until the very end. 


🕵️ A First Date with Death

🕵️ A Second Chance at Murder

🕵️ Third Time's A Crime

🕵️ A First Date with Death

🕵️ Dying for Gold

🕵️ Runaway Murder

🕵️ Murder at the Clock Tower

🕵️ Murder at Yappy Hour

🕵️ Trigger Yappy



A grand collection of books by USA Today Bestselling Author, Diana Orgain

Book 1 - A First Date with Death ~ Book one of the Love or Money Mystery Series

Reality TV meets murder in the first in a new mystery series from the author of the Maternal Instincts Mysteries and coauthor of the New York Times best-selling Scrapbooking Mysteries.

When brokenhearted Georgia Thornton goes looking for romance on reality TV, she has nothing to lose - apart from a good man, a cash prize, and maybe her life.... What was Georgia thinking? Sure, some cad ditched her at the altar, but can she really find love on TV? Her best friend - and producer of the reality show Love or Money - thinks so.

Ten men. Ten adventure-filled dates. What can go wrong? For starters, a faulty bungee cord that hurls Georgia's first date into a tragic spiral off the Golden Gate Bridge. He's replaced by Paul Sanders, Georgia's former fiancé. But the cop isn't looking for a TV gig. Suspecting that the lover's leap was no accident, Paul's going undercover. When another bachelor gets a fatal kiss-off, the reality is that someone has killer new plans for the show - and for Georgia herself. Now, under the threat of permanent cancellation, Georgia fears that the only man on the set she can trust is the one man she just can't count on....

Book 2 - A Second Chance at Murder ~ Book two of the Love or Money Mystery Series

In the latest from the USA Today best-selling author of A First Date with Death, reality TV gets all too real with murder.... After Love or Money made them reality TV stars, former cop Georgia Thornton and her new boyfriend Scott were supposed to live happily ever after. Unfortunately as their 15 minutes of fame came to an end, actual reality kicked in and their prize money quickly evaporated. So Georgia and Scott agree to appear in a new program, pitting them against other teams in an athletic journey across the countryside of Spain for a chance to win $250,000. But the fierce competition turns frightening when Scott disappears during an overnight camping trip in the Pyrenees Mountains, leaving only his bloody wristwatch behind - and a woman's dead body. With the Spanish authorities ready to convict Scott, Georgia must find him and prove his innocence in an amazing race against crime....

Book 3 - Third times a Crime ~ Book Three of the Love of Money Mystery Series

In the latest from the USA Today best-selling author of A First Date with Death, reality TV gets all too real with murder.... After Love or Money made them reality TV stars, former cop Georgia Thornton and her new boyfriend Scott were supposed to live happily ever after. Unfortunately as their 15 minutes of fame came to an end, actual reality kicked in and their prize money quickly evaporated. So Georgia and Scott agree to appear in a new program, pitting them against other teams in an athletic journey across the countryside of Spain for a chance to win $250,000. But the fierce competition turns frightening when Scott disappears during an overnight camping trip in the Pyrenees Mountains, leaving only his bloody wristwatch behind - and a woman's dead body. With the Spanish authorities ready to convict Scott, Georgia must find him and prove his innocence in an amazing race against crime....

Book 4 - Dying for Gold ~ Book one of the Gold Strike Mystery Series

In the small town of Golden, not everything that glitters is gold…

Frannie Peterson is on the verge of getting everything she's always wanted. A promotion at her beloved family's souvenir shop, a proposal from the love of her life, and most importantly her mother's approval.

All this in time to celebrate Living History day.

But....when the festival organizer is found murdered at her soon-to-be fiance's apartment everything hangs in the balance.

Can Frannie find the murderer before he strikes again?

Book 5 - Runaway Murder ~ Book One of the Murder on the Rails Mystery Series

Welcome to Golden...where murder and scandal run as deep as the gold mines...

Train aficionado, Jessica Peterson, may have found her dream job as the first female executive Chef of the Western Rails train. Problem is her ex-lover, is the Chief Conductor and he wants to turn the Summer BBQ Excursion into a Gourmet Champagne Brunch. Things turn contentious when online ticket sales double, thanks to Walter, the computer guru, and the results are in - it seems tourists are hankering for fancier feast.

Just when Jessica thinks she has a handle on her temperamental ex-lover and conductor, along with the hustle and bustle of her new job…

A body is found in the motorcar.

It’s the computer guru, Walter. While plenty of people have motive, some of the strangers on the train carry dark secrets. The burden of getting the train back to the station before another person falls victim is on Jessica’s shoulders.

Can she get everyone back safely, while figuring out whodunit?

Book 6 - Murder at the Clocktower ~ Book One of the Restoration Mystery Series

Welcome to Golden...where not everything is fun and games!

The rising price of gold has brought a whole new boom to the small town of Golden now in desperate need of restoration. The downtown has to be updated, the historic museum rebuilt and the beloved Golden Miner statue restored.

Hope Wilson is the perfect candidate for updating the dilapidated clock tower, and even though she’s a golden girl at heart, the town holds painful memories. Her husband was killed in a tragic kayaking accident and her grief was so strong she fled town. Now, after circumnavigating the globe, she may be ready to take on this new assignment...if it weren’t that her re-buffed bitter high school sweetheart, Dustin Lyons, is now in charge of funding the restorations.

That. And there’s a body in the clock tower.

Can Hope manage to win Dustin over?

First, she’ll have to stop the crime spree in town, but she won’t get far without Dustin’s help. Together they’ll have to save the renovation project and stop a cold-hearted killer.

Book 7 - Murder at Yappy Hour ~ Book one of the Roundup Crew Mystery Series

Every Friday night in the idyllic seaside town of Pacific Cove, California, the Roundup Crew, a group of dog-friendly folks, have a spirited meet-up at their local wine bar. But when the owner, Rachel, leaves town on mysterious business―and her pet-unfriendly sister, Maggie, takes charge of the bar―things take a ruff turn.

Not only does Maggie find a body sprawled on the floor, it’s accompanied by an incriminating letter with Rachel’s name on it. On impulse, she hides the letter from hunky detective, Officer Brad Brooks.

With Rachel as the prime suspect, Maggie sniffs out the scene on her own while getting to know the Roundup Crew and their four-legged besties. The Doggie Daiquiris and Muttgaritas are flowing, but it’s not long before another body turns up. Thanks to the Roundup Crew, Maggie’s new litter of friends will do anything to save the bar and solve the mystery. . .and maybe find a bit of puppy love in the process.

Book 8 - Murder at Yappy Hour ~ Book two of the Roundup Crew Mystery Series

Although still not quite a dog lover, Maggie Patterson meets with her new group of dog-loving friends for “Yappy Hour” every Friday night in the sleepy seaside town of Pacific Cove, CA. Both she and her sister Rachel have put the past murderous summer behind them, with Rachel even securing a headline feature for the Wine & Bark in the famous Doggie Day magazine. But when her sister comes down with a case of salmonella poisoning, Maggie is left to run the business in her absence. Even worse, Maggie overhears an argument between her friend Yolanda and Bonnie, who runs the Chic Chickie shop. Then poor Bonnie turns up dead. With evidence pilling up against Yolanda, the Roundup Crew is desperate to find the real killer and convince Maggie to investigate.

With the help of charming detective Officer Brad Brooks, Maggie finds that everyone has a motive, even some of her beloved Roundup Crew friends. Maggie must put her new job as a purser on hold while she tracks down a murderer. Will Maggie’s investigation kill her budding romance with Officer Brooks? Sometimes getting to the truth is not for the faint of bark…er…heart. Between running the bar, managing her love life, and solving a murder in time for the editorial spread, things are about to get a little hairy in this laugh-out-loud cozy mystery.

Chapter One Look Inside

The bungee-jumping harness bit into my shoulders and legs as I looked over the railing of the Golden Gate Bridge. To say the water looked frigid was an understatement. The whitecaps of the bay screamed out glacier and hypothermia.

“You’re not in position,” Cheryl, the producer, yelled.

I felt the camera zoom in on me. They needed an extreme close-up of my every facial expression so they could broadcast my terror to the world. Magnify my embarrassment and mortification.

One of the techs said something to Cheryl and she shouted, “Cut!”

The cameraman lost interest in me.

“Why am I doing this?” I asked Becca, my best friend and the assistant producer on this godawful reality TV show, Love or Money.

“To find your dream man,” Becca answered.

“I found him already, remember? Then he left me at the altar.”

A makeup artist appeared at my elbow and applied powder to my nose.

“Dream men do not leave their brides at the altar,” Becca said. “Clearly, he was not the one.”

I studied the woman brushing powder on my face. She had beautiful chocolate-colored skin, a straight nose, and eyes so dark and intense they looked like pools of india ink. She looked familiar, but before I could place her, she turned and walked away.

“I thought you always liked Paul,” I said to Becca.

“I did until he left me at the altar,” Becca replied.

“He left me.”

“Me, too. I was standing right next to you in a stupid tulle and taffeta dress. Anyway, enough about your horrible fashion sense—”

I laughed.

“Even if you don’t find your dream man here,” Becca continued, “focus on the cash prize. You need it.”

She was kind enough not to add “since you were fired,” but I felt the sting anyway. If anyone had told me, six months before, that I’d be on a reality TV show looking for love and/or money, I’d have called them 5150, a.k.a. clinically insane. But here I was, ex-cop, ex-bride-to-be—with a broken heart and broken career—looking to start over.

Ty, one of my “dates,” sauntered over. He was wearing jeans and boots and his trademark cowboy hat. A bungee harness crisscrossed through his legs. Despite the harness, or perhaps because of it, he looked hot. Although I was hard-pressed to think of any outfit that he wouldn’t look hot in.

“Are you nervous, Miss Georgia?” he asked.

I found myself absently wondering if he’d wear his hat while bungee jumping.

He reached out tentatively and touched the back of my hand with a single finger. “Miss Georgia?” he repeated.

I suddenly became aware of the camera rolling again and snapped to attention. “Yes. I’m nervous. I thought I’d get to pick the dates, but I didn’t. I would have never picked this. Only a lunatic—”

I heard the producer, Cheryl, grumble.

I wasn’t supposed to say anything negative about the dates, of course. They were supposed to look authentic, so that the audience wouldn’t know that I had absolutely zero control over anything. The crew would have to edit out my last comment.

Ty seemed to notice the same thing because he replied smoothly, “I’ve always wanted to bungee jump.” His lips quirked up in an irresistible manner. “And now we get to do it off this beautiful bridge.”

Cheryl, who was standing behind him, smiled. He’d just saved the scene. She liked him.

Well, in those tight jeans and boots, and with the cute southern drawl—who could blame her?

I glanced around at the others. They seemed ready to go and had started heading my way. It was inevitable, once someone started showing interest in me, that the others would follow—like a pack of dogs fighting over a lone piece of meat.

Bungee jumping off the bridge was my first date, and I’d selected five of the ten eligible bachelors—or not so eligible. The gist of the show was for me to pick a guy who was emotionally available for a relationship, someone who was on the show for love.

During casting, each guy had given a heart-to-heart interview with the producer, Cheryl Dennison. They’d confessed whether they were ready to be in a relationship. Five guys were searching for love; five guys weren’t. Because I’d worked for SFPD, somehow Hollywood thought I’d be able to figure out everyone’s motives.

I had my doubts.

If I picked the right guy, we’d split $250,000. If I picked a guy who was emotionally unavailable he’d walk off with the cash prize on his own and, maybe worse, a piece of my heart.

America would be privy to the interviews. I’m sure those clips would expose me as a fool along the way.

I pictured Cheryl’s editing staff. As soon as I said someone was cute or hot or sweet, she’d revel in playing a clip of the heart-to-heart where he told America all the reasons he couldn’t fall in love. That kind of thing would be great for ratings.

The guys I’d asked on this date were the ones I suspected might be on the show for the cash. Best to eliminate the fakes ASAP.

I’d selected Ty, the cowboy, because at the first night’s cocktail party I couldn’t actually get him to tell me what he did for a living.

Edward, the hot doctor—tall, with dark hair, a great smile, and a wonderful gentleness about him—had to have student loans from med school up the wazoo.

Scott, the brooding writer, wrote horror stories—I hoped to read to get an idea about him. He was mysterious and supersexy, with a tight body and a bit of a swagger, and he had a shaved head and dark, piercing eyes.

But who made any money as a writer?

Aaron, the investment banker, looked like the boy next door. Clean-cut, respectable, and polite.

I wouldn’t typically peg investment bankers as needing money, but something about Aaron was unsettling, as though he had some desperation vibe wafting off him.

And then there was Pietro, the Italian hunk with an accent that drove me wild.

I’d invited him because I had a weakness for accents, and weakness must be sought out and destroyed at any cost.

Everyone was suited up and ready to go. My harness felt so tight I thought I might explode out of it. It was cutting into my shoulders and crotch—certainly not a woman-friendly look. But I didn’t complain for fear they would make it too loose and I’d slip out of it at exactly the wrong moment.

Was there no happy medium for me?

The crew was urging us toward the edge of the bridge. We didn’t have time to dillydally, as the show had been granted special access for the shoot. Bungee jumping was not ordinarily allowed off the Golden Gate Bridge due to boat traffic, but the producers had been able to close down the shipping lanes for one hour. Everything is for sale in San Francisco.

Car traffic, on the other hand, was still open on the bridge. Everything may be for sale, but even Hollywood has a budget. It was nerve-wracking and noisy to have the cars whizzing by.

“If you’re nervous, maybe someone else can go first,” Ty offered.

Cheryl said, “Someone needs to go, for God’s sake. We need to get the show on the road. Aaron, want to go?”

Aaron looked surprised and Ty seemed relieved.

“Uh, yeah, certainly. Love to,” Aaron said, although he looked unsure.

Cheryl turned to me and shouted, “You, get over here and watch him jump. We need the shot.”

I don’t know what I’d imagined when I thought about possibly finding love on this show, but it certainly hadn’t included this six-foot-tall blond woman yelling at me constantly. In fact, she’d never even entered my mind and now she seemed never to leave.

Aaron took his place near the edge of the bridge and I stood next to him. The crew maneuvered around us, although one camera remained trained on my face, my every expression being recorded for posterity.

I hoped I didn’t look nauseous. I certainly felt it.

Despite the tech people assuring me it was safe, jumping off the bridge was the last thing I wanted to do.

Down below I could see the Coast Guard boat hovering, one of the conditions the City of San Francisco had put on our use of the bridge.

Cheryl hadn’t cared about the condition. In fact, she’d used it in negotiations for the show, requesting two cameramen be allowed to board and film our jumps.

“Are you ready, Aaron?” I asked, remembering to smile for the camera, but fearing it came off more as a grimace.

Aaron returned my smile, only his seemed genuine. “Oh, yeah. I’ve been jumping before. It’s really a hoot. Feels like you’re flying.” He grabbed my hand and said, “Georgia, will you jump with me?”

Before I could reply, he turned to the tech. “Is her line ready?”

I heard the tech say, “She’s—”

The din of traffic seemed to grow, a car honking at precisely that moment.

Then someone touched the small of my back and Cheryl yelled, “Action!”

Aaron let out a war cry and leapt, still squeezing my hand and pulling me forward. Someone pushed sharply on my back. I was off balance, trying to stay on the bridge.

Aaron didn’t release me and his momentum propelled me forward. I slipped off the railing, falling with him, our hands finally disentangling.

The wind howled furiously at me. I howled back. My face tight, completely stretched with the force of gravity, my own saliva streaming across my checks as I screamed. Aaron was screaming, too, only his yells were ones of sheer delight.

His arms were flung out from his sides and he held them horizontally, imitating a plane.

We were soaring through the air like birds—only birds on a sharp descent, toward water that looked like a sheet of solid glass.

Adrenaline surged through my system, everything registering in slow motion: Aaron’s expression of pure joy, the sunlight reflecting off the water and blinding me, the sound of the boat nearby.

The Coast Guard.

We were speeding, rushing closer and closer to the water. My breath caught in my throat, gagging me. I fought the impulse to retch.

How close to the water were we supposed to get?

When would the cord tighten?

What had the tech said?

All my mind could process was the water seemingly racing toward me.

And then, suddenly, my cord pulled taut and my descent stopped. I bounced up, the water receding rapidly. The negative g-force playing havoc with my stomach.

Out of nowhere a horrific crashing, splashing, screeching sound pierced my ears.

Water shot upward.

I pressed both hands over my mouth and tried to keep the bloodcurdling scream inside, but failed.

Aaron had hit the water.

His bungee cord finally tightened and snapped to position, but he was already underwater.

I continued flying upward, the distance between Aaron and me an eternity.

It felt as if I would crash right through the bottom of the bridge.

And then my descent began again, water rushing toward me.

Dear God, would I crash into the water, too?

I was paralyzed with fear as the cord tightened and then the water raced away. Then I was falling again, zooming toward the water, now my nemesis beckoning me, luring and tempting me to give up the fight.

The cord tightened one last time and I came to an abrupt stop, suspended above the bay—so close I could feel the salt spray on my skin.

I filled my lungs with air and screamed. I kicked and thrashed about, trying to break the harness that had just saved my life. Aaron was so close to me, I needed to grab him and pull him out of the water. I was vaguely aware of the Coast Guard boat nearby, the sound of the engine revving, the fumes of the diesel gagging me.

I heard the crackle of the Coast Guard’s radio and then Cheryl’s voice frantically shouting, “Hoist him up! Holy Christ! Hoist him up!”

I raised my head and was surprised to see the Coast Guard boat so close. Without words the entire crew had sprung into action. But one camera was still trained on me. The other camera zoomed in on Aaron.

I felt a jolt and realized I was being raised back toward the bridge.

“No, no, stop! Let me go—I can reach him!” I yelled.

Then the hoist on Aaron’s harness began to crank and he was lifted out of the water.

His dripping, lifeless form hung like a rag doll from the bungee.

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