enter to win on @BookSweeps today — plus the rest of the exciting High-Tech Crime Solvers Series from a great collection of authors… AND a brand new eReader :D #amreading #Giveaway

BookSweeps Thriller BookGiveaway!

Today, I have a fun surprise to share with you…

I’ve teamed up with the rest of the fantastic authors to give away a huge collection of High-Tech Crime Solvers Series to 2 lucky winners!

Oh, and did I mention the Grand Prize winner gets a BRAND NEW eReader? 😁 

You can win my novel Virtually Gone, plus the complete High-Tech Crime Solvers series!

Enter the giveaway by clicking here 👉 bit.ly/HighTechCrimeSolvers-July2020

Good luck and enjoy!

Jacquie Biggar

Exclusive Excerpt of Virtually Gone

Matt spent the rest of the afternoon filling in a case report and waiting for the ME’s phone call. Paperwork was a necessary evil in a police detective’s job description. He’d seen too many cases thrown out of court due to an inaccurate paper trail—besides, it helped to ensure he didn’t overlook any of the facts. Not that there were many to miss.

Three women; all of differing backgrounds and religions. One, a young woman out to meet friends. The second, an Asian biology student at the University of Victoria. And now, Emily Carter; the youngest at just sixteen. She’d argued with her boyfriend, Alexander Friedman, and run off down the trail, straight into the hands of a heartless killer.

Matt clenched his teeth against the pounding in his skull. Ever since the concussion he’d suffered while chasing a perp a couple of months ago, he’d been getting sudden blinding headaches. He’d laughed when the doctor had suggested avoiding stress. Kind of tough to do in his line of work. He massaged his temples and popped a couple of pain killers, then stood, stretched his back, and crossed the bullpen to refill his coffee cup with the black sludge Esposito insisted on brewing. Matt caught Dan just as he was about to rinse out the pot. “Hold up there, I’ll take that.”

The wiry cop turned and grinned. “I’ve finally drawn you over to the dark side, huh?”

Matt scowled as the thicker-than-wallpaper-paste liquid poured into his mug. “It’s no wonder you’re so damn skinny, this shit’ll rot your guts out.”

Dan laughed and gave him a well-aimed jab to the kidneys. “What’s your excuse then, Roy?”

Matt grunted. “Do that again and your old lady will be having that kid without you.” Esposito’s wife, Prudence, was due to give birth to their first child any day now, making Dan more haywire than ever.

“Ha, that would leave you to give her comfort and you can forget that idea. My Pru only has eyes for me.” Dan winked.

It was true, too. Anyone who saw those two together knew they were a match made in heaven. Didn’t mean he couldn’t poke fun at his friend though. “Is that why she chose me to be the godparent, then? Better watch out, old man, I might just steal her away from you one of these days.”

Dan shook his head and carried on with the coffee-making process. “In your dreams, man. In your dreams.”

Matt was relieved the exchange, along with the pain pills, had worked to bring his headache down to a dull roar. He decided to take a break from the reports to add the details from the latest crime to his murder board. He’d always been a visual thinker and found using a cork board with photos of the victims, as well as any evidence, on one side and a list of suspects on the other helped him to focus. At the moment, the victims’ columns were filling up with information while the suspect pool remained noticeably empty, but he hoped today’s attack would turn the tide. If only the ME would call.

Matt turned when Connor entered the quiet conference room, yanking the tie from his neck. “Have I mentioned how much I hate getting called to court?”

Amen to that. Talk about a time suck. Half the cases ended up being dismissed anyway. It was enough to make a guy pull out his hair. Speaking of which… “Did you hear about the assault on the Galloping Goose today?”

Connor threw the paisley tie on the table and took a hesitant sip of Matt’s coffee. He grimaced at the taste and set the cup down. “Yeah. It was on the radio. Jules interviewed you?”

“Interrogated, you mean. That woman is like a dog with a bone when she’s after a story.”

“I don’t like it; she’s barely recovered from her experience with the ABC Killer. Why can’t she be a sports reporter?” Connor shrugged out of his navy-blue suit jacket and undid the top two buttons on his dress shirt. “What do you have so far?”

Matt was still contemplating the benefits of knowing someone who could score cheap hockey tickets. “You should talk to her about that sports thing. She’d get plenty of excitement interviewing athletic types. Never know what kind of perks might come with that sort of gig.”

“You’re a pig, you know that?” Connor shook his head and stared at the board. “Is that her?”

Sobering, Matt straightened the slightly crooked school photo of the Carter girl lined up next to her crime scene images. “Sixteen-years-old, she had her whole life in front of her.” He had to swallow the fury brewing in his chest in order to lay out the facts. “Parents are June and Henry Carter, of the furniture warehouse Carters. They forbade her to date, so she sneaked out to meet her boyfriend. They claim they had no idea. One other child; an older son in university. He wasn’t available when I was there today.” He took a drink of coffee, barely aware of the bitter taste. “Boyfriend is in the wind. We have an APB out on him. I was thinking of heading over to the coroner’s office to try and move them along. Interested in a drive?”

Connor grabbed his jacket, shoved the tie into a pocket and threw it over his shoulder. “Sure, but you know Dr. Robinson doesn’t like to be rushed.”

“That’s why I’m taking you; he likes you better than me,” Matt said as they left the station and walked through the parking lot toward his Charger.

“When are you going to let me drive that thing? And he likes you just fine.”

Matt slid behind the wheel and started the car. The motor emitted a deep-throated growl, then settle to a contented purr. He waited until Connor was in and belted up to tell him, “Never, you drive like an old woman. It would be an insult to Nelly.” He patted the dash lovingly before shifting into gear. “Hang on.” He was kidding… sort of. Truthfully, the 5.7 litre engine fed his need for speed and every now and then he took it to the track. But not today.

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