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Monday, January 22, 2018

BATMAN: Nightwalker by Marie Lu Blog Tour: Excerpt + Giveaway

Hey guys! Today, I'm sharing an excerpt from Marie Lu's BATMAN: Nightwalker. I hope you enjoy it! Please make sure to check out the other tour stops, plus the giveaway below! 

BATMAN: NIGHTWALKER (DC Icons #2) by Marie Lu
Publisher: Random House Books for Young Readers
Formats: Hardcover, eBook, audiobook 
Pub. Date: January 2, 2018
Pages: 272
Buy Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Book Depository
Before he was Batman, he was Bruce Wayne. A reckless boy willing to break the rules for a girl who may be his worst enemy.

The Nightwalkers are terrorizing Gotham City, and Bruce Wayne is next on their list.
One by one, the city's elites are being executed as their mansions' security systems turn against them, trapping them like prey. Meanwhile, Bruce is turning eighteen and about to inherit his family's fortune, not to mention the keys to Wayne Enterprises and all the tech gadgetry his heart could ever desire. But after a run-in with the police, he's forced to do community service at Arkham Asylum, the infamous prison that holds the city's most brutal criminals.

Madeleine Wallace is a brilliant killer . . . and Bruce's only hope.

In Arkham, Bruce meets Madeleine, a brilliant girl with ties to the Nightwalkers. What is she hiding? And why will she speak only to Bruce? Madeleine is the mystery Bruce must unravel. But is he getting her to divulge her secrets, or is he feeding her the information she needs to bring Gotham City to its knees? Bruce will walk the dark line between trust and betrayal as the Nightwalkers circle closer.

Marie Lu is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Legend trilogy and The Young Elites trilogy. She graduated from the University of Southern California and jumped into the video game industry, working for Disney Interactive Studios as a Flash artist. Now a full-time writer, she spends her spare time reading, drawing, playing Assassin’s Creed, and getting stuck in traffic. She lives in Los Angeles, California (see above: traffic), with one husband, one Chihuahua mix, and two Pembroke Welsh corgis. 
Connect with Marie: Website | Tumblr | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram |Pinterest | Goodreads

     “ Fashionably late on your birthday?” Dianne said with a grin.

     Bruce gave her a grateful wink and leaned down closer to her ear. “ Always.”

     “ This benefit is epic,” she went on. “ I think you might set a new record for how much money it’ll raise.”

     “ Thank god,” he replied, throwing an arm around her neck. “ Otherwise I’d have put up with all the cameras down there for nothing.”

     She laughed. This was the girl who had once punched a tooth out of a kid for harassing her friends, who had memorized the entire first chapter of A Tale of Two Cities in senior-year English to win a bet, and who could spend an hour staring at a menu only to order the same burger she always got. Now Dianne shoved him off in affectionate protest, grabbed his arm, and led him through the open doors of the hall, leaving the paparazzi behind.

     Inside, the lighting was dim, an atmospheric blue, and chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, glinting bright silver and white. Ice sculptures and spreads of food covered long banquet tables, while another table was lined with rows of auction items, all trembling slightly from the beat of the music.

     “ I thought you had a college interview today,” he said over the noise as Dianne swiped a lemon tart from one of the dessert stands. “ Not that I’m complaining about you being here, of course.”

     “ It was earlier,” Dianne replied through a mouthful of pastry. “ It’s okay. My lola needed me home in the afternoon to pick up my brother, and besides, I couldn’t bear the thought of robbing you of my company tonight.” She leaned in, her voice dropping to an ominous whisper. “ That was my way of saying I didn’t get you anything.”

     “ Nothing at all?” Bruce put a hand over his heart in mock pain. “ You wound me.”

     “ If you’d like, I could always bake you a cake.”

     “ Please don’t.” The last time Dianne had attempted to make cookies, she’d set Bruce’s kitchen on fire, and they’d spent the next hour hiding the scorched kitchen drapes so that Alfred wouldn’t know.

      Dianne squeezed his arm once. “ You’ll just have to settle for diner food tonight, then.”

     Years ago, Bruce, Harvey, and Dianne had all agreed to forgo birthday presents in exchange for an annual date at their favorite local diner. It would be where they’d meet up tonight, too, after the benefit ended, and Bruce could shed the billionaire and just be a boy on the cusp of graduating from high school, getting teased by two of his best friends over fat burgers and thick milk shakes. He smiled in anticipation at the thought.

     “ Well?” he asked Dianne. “ How’d the interview go?”

     “ The interviewer didn’t faint in horror at my answers, so I’m going out on a limb to say it went well.” She shrugged.

     And that was Dianne’s way of saying she’d aced it, just like she aced everything else in life. Bruce had come to recognize her shrug whenever she tried to downplay an achievement—getting a perfect score on her entrance exams, being admitted to every university she applied to, and speaking as their class valedictorian at graduation next month.

     “ Congratulations,” he said. “ Although you’ve probably already heard that from Harvey.”

     She smiled. “ All Harvey’s done tonight is beg me not to leave him alone on the dance floor. You know how much his two left feet love to dance.”

     Bruce laughed. “Isn’t he alone on the floor right now?”

     Dianne grinned mischievously. “ Oh, he can survive for two minutes.”

     The music grew louder and louder as they neared the dance floor, until finally they stepped through a set of double doors and onto a balcony that overlooked a packed space. Here, the music shook the floors. A haze of mist hugged the ground level. On the stage below was an elaborate stand, behind which stood a DJ, bobbing his head in time to the beat. Behind him, an enormous screen stretched from floor to ceiling and played a series of moving, flashing patterns.

      Dianne cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted down at the crowd. “ He’s here!”

      An enormous cheer exploded from the dance floor, drowning out even the music. Bruce looked on as the crowd’s roar of “ Happy birthday!” filled the room. He smiled and waved, and as he did, the DJ sped up the track. Then the DJ dropped the beat hard, and the crowd became a sea of pumping limbs.

     Bruce let the pounding music fill his senses, and whatever unease he’d felt now faded away. Dianne led him down the stairs and into the mass of guests. As he greeted one person after another, pausing to take selfies with some, he lost Dianne in the tangle of bodies, until all he could see was a blur of familiar and strange faces, every outline lit up in slices of neon and darkness.

      There she is. Dianne had reached Harvey Dent, who looked chalky under the club lights as he tried his best to move with the beat. Bruce smiled at the sight, then started making his way across the dance floor toward them. They waved him over.

     “ Bruce!”

      He turned at the voice, but before he could even reply, somebody was clapping him hard on the shoulder. A face came into focus, grinning harshly, his white teeth even whiter against his pale face. “ Hey—happy birthday, man!”

     Richard Price, the son of Gotham City’s current mayor. Bruce blinked in surprise. It had been months since they last talked, but Richard had already grown a few inches taller, so that Bruce had to look up slightly to meet the other boy’s gaze. “ Hey,” he replied, returning Richard’s embrace. “ I didn’t think you’d come.”

      “ And miss your shindig? Never,” Richard replied. “My dad’s here—out in the auction hall, anyway. He never missed any of your mom’s benefits, and he won’t do it now.”

     Bruce nodded warily. They had once been best friends—they lived at opposite ends of the same neighborhood of exclusive estates, had attended the same middle school and the same parties, had even taken kickboxing classes at the same gym. They’d played video games in Bruce’s theater room, laughing themselves silly until their stomachs hurt. Even now Bruce felt a pang at the memory. But things had changed as they grew older, and Richard had gradually fallen into a specific category of his own: the kind of friend who called you only when he needed something from you.

     Bruce wondered what it would be tonight.

     “ Hey,” Richard said now, his eyes darting to one side. He kept his hand on Bruce’s shoulder as he gestured up to the exit. “ Can I talk to you somewhere? Just for a sec?”

     “ Sure.”

     Bruce’s ears rang as they headed off the dance floor and into a quieter hall. There, Richard turned around and looked at Bruce with an eager grin. In spite of himself, Bruce could feel his spirits lift at the expression—it was the same grin Richard used to give him when they were kids and Richard had found something exciting that he had to share. Maybe he really was here just to celebrate Bruce’s birthday.

     Richard stepped closer and lowered his voice. “ Look,” he said. “ Dad’s on my case. He keeps asking me if I’ve got an internship lined up for the summer. Can you help me out?”

     Bruce’s moment of hope flickered out, replaced by a familiar sinking feeling of disappointment. Richard needed something again. “ I can recommend you to Lucius Fox,” he started to say. “ WayneTech is looking for interns—”

     Richard shook his head. “ No, I mean, I don’t actually want to be at the internship. Just, you know, put in a word for me with my dad, tell him I’m doing stuff at WayneTech this summer, and let me into the building a couple of times.”

      Bruce frowned at him. “ You mean, help you fake that you’re at an internship, just so your dad won’t bother you anymore?”

     Richard gave him a halfhearted nudge. “ It’s the last summer before college starts. I don’t want to spend it working—yeah, you know how it is, Wayne, right? Just tell my dad I’m working with Lucius. It won’t be a big deal.”

     “ And how are you going to keep it up?”

     “ I told you—just let me into WayneTech every now and then. Take a photo of me in the lobby or something. It’s all my dad needs to see.”

     “ I don’t know, man. Lucius will just tell your dad the truth if he gets wind of it.”

     “ Oh, come on, Bruce! For old times’ sake.” Richard’s grin was still on as he reached to shake Bruce’s shoulder once. “ It’s your company, isn’t it? You’re gonna let that nerd tell you what to do?” Bruce bristled. Richard had fawned all over Lucius when he’d first met him. “ I’m not covering for you,” he said. “ If you want to tell your dad you’re interning at WayneTech, you’ll have to actually do the internship.”

     Richard made an annoyed sound in his throat. “ What’s it to you?”

     “ Why are you insisting?”

     “ All you have to do is mention it once or twice to my dad. It’s not like it’ll cost you anything.”

     Bruce shook his head. When they were younger, Richard would show up unannounced at his front gate, talking breathlessly over the intercom, holding the latest game or the newest set of action figures. At some point, their hangouts shifted from debates about what their favorite movies were to requests from Richard to copy Bruce’s homework or for Bruce to finish their group projects on his own or put in a good word for him for jobs.

     When had he changed? Even now Bruce couldn’t understand when or why it’d all gone wrong.

     “ I can’t,” Bruce said, shaking his head again. “ I’m sorry.”

     At that, Richard’s eyes seemed to shutter. He searched Bruce’s gaze as if expecting a different answer, but when it didn’t come, he grimaced and shoved his hands into his pockets. “ Yeah, whatever,” he muttered, stepping around Bruce to head back down the hall. “ I see how it is. You turn eighteen and get the keys to your empire, and suddenly you’re too good to help out your friends.”

     “ Richard,” Bruce called out. The other boy paused to look over his shoulder. Bruce stared at him for a moment. “ If you hadn’t wanted my help, would you have come to the party tonight?”

     There was a pause, and Bruce knew that the answer was no. Richard just shrugged at him, then turned around and continued down the hall without answering.

     Bruce stood there for a moment, alone, listening to the pounding music coming from inside. He felt a sudden rush of not belonging here, not even at his own event. He pictured the crowd of his classmates and friends on the dance floor and wondered if, aside from Dianne and Harvey, any of them would be here if it weren’t for his family name. The paparazzi outside wouldn’t, that was for sure.

     If he were just Bruce Wayne, the boy next door, would anyone care?

     Instead of heading back to the dance floor, Bruce made his way down the hall and through a nondescript door that led outside. He walked around the building until he reached the front entrance, where the cameras had already gotten what they wanted from the Aston Martin and were now clustered at the top of the stairs, waiting for special guests to enter or leave. Unnoticed, Bruce reached the car and got in. One of the bodyguards watching the paparazzi at the entrance spotted him right as he shut the car door and revved the engine.

     “ Mr. Wayne, sir!” the man said, but Bruce just gave him a terse nod. Through the window, he could see some of the paparazzi turn in his direction and realize that he was leaving. Their eyes widened, and their chatter morphed into shouts.

     But Bruce slammed his foot down on the gas pedal before anyone could reach him. In the rearview mirror, the hall shrank quickly away. Maybe it was rude of him to leave his benefit so soon, to get some time alone when everyone wanted his time for themselves. But he didn’t slow down, and he didn’t look back.

Chapter 2

     Neon lights smeared across the evening streets of Gotham City. Few cars were on the road at this hour, and all Bruce could hear was the rush of pavement and wind, the sound of his car tearing down the freeway. That was what drew him to machines. They followed algorithms, not emotion; when Bruce pushed his foot down on the pedal, the car only responded in one way.

     Somewhere behind him, he could see the headlights of paparazzi attempting to follow him. Bruce allowed himself a cynical smile and edged the speedometer higher and higher. The world blurred around him.

A harsh beep rang out in the car, followed by an electronic voice. “ Speed not recommended for this road,” it said, and at the same time, one corner of the windshield lit up with a recommended speed and a blinking marker telling Bruce to slow down.

     “ Override,” Bruce replied. The alerts faded. He could feel the car lock itself tighter in position on the road, so that if he seemed to be even slightly shaky, the car would compensate by steadying itself.

     At least WayneTech’s features were working as they should, he thought darkly. Lucius would be happy to hear it.

     The car’s phone rang, echoing in Bruce’s ears. When he glanced down at the caller ID, he saw that it was Dianne. Bruce let it ring a few times before he finally answered. Dianne’s voice filled the car, along with the din of the party behind her.

     “ Bruce?” she shouted over the noise. “ Where’d you go? I saw you step away with Richard, but then I heard you left, and—”

     “ I did leave,” Bruce replied.

     “ What? Are you okay?” That was Harvey’s voice, anxious.

     “ I’m fine,” Bruce reassured them. “ Don’t worry. I just needed to get some air and clear my head.”

     There was a pause on the other end before Dianne spoke up again. “ Do what you need to do,” she replied.

     “ And if you need us,” Harvey added, “ we’ll head to you.”

     Bruce relaxed a little at their words. The three of them had all gotten to the point where they could sense each other’s moods, so that none of them needed to explain a thing. They just knew.

     “ Thanks.” Then he hung up.

     He had no idea where he was driving to, but after a while he realized he was taking a long route back in the direction of the manor. Bruce exited the freeway onto a local street, passing rows of dilapidated apartment buildings, their walls permanently stained from decades of water and filth. Clothes hung limply on lines strung from one window to another. Steam billowed up from vents. He swerved neatly through traffic, then made a sharp turn at an intersection, where he paused at a stoplight.

     Outside his car window, an old man was crawling into his makeshift tent, while at the end of the block another man was stuffing old newspaper into his shoes. A pair of kids played in an alley piled high with trash. Bruce looked away. He shouldn’t be here. And yet here he was, driving through the slums in a car that probably cost more than what a person living here could earn in a lifetime. Did he have a right to ever feel sad, with everything he had in his life?

     These were the streets that his parents had fought all their lives to improve, and they were the same streets where their blood had been shed. Bruce took a deep breath as the light turned green and he revved his engine. Gotham City was broken in many ways, but it wasn’t beyond repair. He would find a way to fix it. It was the mantle he’d been handed.

     Soon the streets changed back to unbroken streetlights and unbarred windows. The paparazzi were slowly but surely gaining on him; if he didn’t throw them off now, they would end up parked outside his mansion gates, fabricating tabloid headlines for why he left his party early. Bruce’s eyes darkened at the thought, and he sped up until the car’s warning beep went off again.

     It wasn’t until he reached another series of stoplights that he heard the echo of police sirens.

     Bruce wondered for an instant if the sirens were for him, the police busting him for speeding. Then he realized that the sound was coming from somewhere up ahead—and not just from a single vehicle, but from what must be dozens.

     Curiosity cut through his dark mood. Bruce frowned as he listened to the wails. He had spent enough time following criminal cases on his own that the sound of sirens always made him sit up straighter. For this area of the city, an upscale shopping neighborhood, the sheer intensity of them seemed out of place. Bruce took a detour from the route that would have taken him back toward Wayne Manor, and instead headed in the direction of the sirens. As he rounded another bend, the wails suddenly turned deafening, and a mass of flashing red and blue lights blinked against the buildings near the end of the street. White barricades and yellow police tape completely blocked the intersection. Even from here, Bruce could see fire engines and black SWAT trucks clustered together, the silhouettes of police running back and forth in front of the headlights.

     Inside his car, the electronic voice came on again, followed by a transparent map overlaid against his windshield. “ Heavy police activity ahead. Alternate route suggested.”

     A sense of dread filled his chest.

     Bruce flicked away the map and pulled to an abrupt halt in front of the barricade—right as the unmistakable pop-pop-pop of gunfire rang out in the night air.

     He remembered the sound all too well. The memory of his parents’ deaths sent a wave of dizziness through him. Another robbery. A murder. That’s what all this is.

     Then he shook his head. No, that can’t be right. There were far too many cops here for a simple robbery.

     “ Step out of your vehicle, and put your hands in the air!” a police officer shouted through a megaphone, her voice echoing along the block. Bruce’s head jerked toward her. For an instant, he thought her command was directed at him, but then he saw that her back was turned, her attention fixed on the corner of the building bearing the name Bellingham Industries & CO. “ We have you surrounded, Nightwalker! This is your final warning!”

     Another officer came running over to Bruce’s car. He whirled an arm exaggeratedly for Bruce to turn his car around. His voice harsh with panic, he warned, “ Turn back now. It’s not safe!”

     Before Bruce could reply, a blinding fireball exploded behind the officer. The street rocked.

     Even from inside his car, Bruce felt the heat of the blast. Every window in the building burst simultaneously, a million shards of glass raining down on the pavement below. The police ducked in unison, their arms shielding their heads. Fragments of glass dinged like hail against Bruce’s windshield.

     From inside the blockade, a white car veered around the corner at top speed. Bruce saw immediately what the car was aiming for—a slim gap between the police barricades where a SWAT team truck had just pulled through.

     The car raced right toward the gap.

     “ I said, get out of here!” the officer shouted at Bruce. A thin ribbon of blood trickled down the man’s face. “ That is an order!”

     Bruce heard the scream of the getaway car’s tires against the asphalt. He’d been in his father’s garage a thousand times, helping him tinker with an endless number of engines from the best cars in the world. At WayneTech, Bruce had watched in fascination as tests were conducted on custom engines, conceptual jets, stealth tech, new vehicles of every kind.

     And so he knew: whatever was installed under that hood was faster than anything the GCPD could hope to have.

     They’ll never catch him. 

     But I can.

     His Aston Martin was probably the only vehicle here that could overtake the criminal’s, the only one powerful enough to chase it down. Bruce’s eyes followed the path the car would likely take, his gaze settling on a sign at the end of the street that pointed toward the freeway.

     I can get him.

    The white getaway vehicle shot straight through the gap in the barricade, clipping two police cars as it went.

     No, not this time. Bruce slammed his gas pedal.

     The Aston Martin’s engine let out a deafening roar, and the car sped forward. The officer who’d shouted at him stumbled back. In the rearview mirror, Bruce saw him scramble to his feet and wave the other officers’ cars forward, both his arms held high.

     “ Hold your fire!” Bruce could hear him yelling. “ Civilian in proximity—hold your fire!”

     The getaway car made a sharp turn at the first intersection, and Bruce sped behind it a few seconds later. The street zigzagged, then turned in a wide arc as it led toward the freeway—and the Nightwalker took the on-ramp, leaving a trail of exhaust and two black skid marks on the road.

     Bruce raced forward in close pursuit; his car mapped the ground instantly, swerving in a perfect curve to follow the ramp onto the freeway. He tapped twice on the windshield right over where the Nightwalker’s white vehicle was.

     “ Follow him,” Bruce commanded.

     It was a feature meant to make it easier for two cars to caravan with each other. Now a green target highlighted over the white car, and the Aston Martin’s voice spoke up: “ Car locked on.” A small map appeared on the corner of the windshield, showing exactly where the getaway car was in proximity to Bruce. No matter how much the white car tried to escape now, it wouldn’t be able to shake him.

     Bruce narrowed his eyes and urged the car faster. His entire body tingled from the rush of adrenaline. “ Override,” he said the instant the car tried to get him to slow down. He snaked between cars from one lane to another. The Aston Martin responded with blinding accuracy, knowing exactly when he could cut into a nar- row space and how fast he needed to be.

     Already Bruce was catching up to the Nightwalker’s car, and the Nightwalker knew it. The other car started to cut wildly back and forth. The few vehicles still on the freeway swerved out of their way as they wove between lanes.

     A spotlight flooded Bruce and the freeway in front of him. He glanced up to see a black chopper flying low and parallel to their chase. Far behind him were the flashing lights of the GCPD cars, but they were a distant sight, getting rapidly smaller.

     What the hell am I doing? Bruce thought in a feverish daze. But he didn’t let up on the gas. Instead, he leaned back and floored the pedal. His eyes were fixed on the swerving white car before him.

     Just a little more. Bruce was so close now that he could see the driver look back to glare at him. The white car swerved around a truck carrying a load of enormous pipes, forcing the driver into Bruce’s lane. The Aston Martin beeped a warning as it automatically veered to the side. Bruce yanked the steering wheel sharply. For an instant, he thought he would hit the side of the truck—but his car slid into the lane by the barest of margins, a perfect fit.

     In this moment, in spite of everything, Bruce felt invincible, even natural, his focus narrowing in on nothing but the sight of his target and the thud of his heart.

     Overhead, the voice from the chopper’s megaphone called out to him. “ Pull over,” it shouted. “ Civilian, stand down. You will be arrested. Stop your vehicle!”

     But Bruce had caught up to his target. Almost there. He tightened his grip on his steering wheel, hoping his calculations were correct. If he clipped him in the rear correctly, the Nightwalker car’s speed and friction would probably flip him. It ends here.

     Alfred’s going to kill me.

     Bruce patted the steering wheel once. His heart twisted for an instant at what he was about to do. “ Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured to the Aston Martin.

     Then he sped up. The car tried to stop him this time, and he felt the resistance in the steering wheel against his move. “ ALERT! Collision ahead!”

     “ Override,” Bruce shouted, then rammed his vehicle into the back of the Nightwalker’s car.

     The crunch of metal slamming into metal.

     Bruce felt a shock wave ripple through his body as his neck whipped sideways and he was hurled in an arc, his seat belt cutting into his chest from the force. The other car’s tires screamed against the pavement—or maybe that was Bruce, he wasn’t sure—and he saw the vehicle flip, momentarily airborne. The world streaked around him. For an instant, he caught a glimpse of the driver’s face—a man, eyes wide, his pale skin dotted with blood.

     The white car crashed upside down. Glass exploded out in all directions as the metal frame crushed into a gnarled mass. Even though Bruce knew, as he shook his head groggily, that everything must have taken less than a second, he felt like he could see the metal twisting section by section, the million individual splinters of the windows cutting through the air.

     Police swarmed the white car, their rifles pointed directly at the driver inside. He looked conscious, if barely.

    “ Don’t move, Nightwalker!” an officer yelled. “ You’re under arrest!”

     Bruce felt another wave of dizziness hit. As one of the officers approached him, shouting angrily now, Bruce heard his car issue a voice call alerting Alfred as well as sending his coordinates to him and the police.

     Bruce’s guardian answered on the first ring, voice tense and frantic. “ Master Wayne! Master Wayne?”

     “ Alfred,” Bruce heard himself say. “ Could use a pickup.” He couldn’t understand what Alfred said in reply—he wasn’t even sure if he could hear Alfred’s words. All he remembered was slumping in his seat, and the world going dark.

Week One: 

1/1/2018- Pen and Parchment- Review 
1/2/2018- Margie's Must Reads- Review 
1/3/2018- YA Book Nerd- Review 
1/4/2018- Mary Had a Little Book Blog- Review 
1/5/2018- A Gingerly Review- Review 

Week Two: 

1/8/2018- YA Bibliophile- Review 
1/9/2018- Here's to Happy Endings- Review 
1/10/2018- The Young Folks- Review 
1/11/2018- The Book Nut- Review 
1/12/2018- The Wanderlust Reader- Review 

Week Three: 

1/15/2018- Tales of the Ravenous Reader- Excerpt 
1/16/2018- a GREAT read- Review 
1/17/2018- BookHounds YA- Review 
1/18/2018- Icey Books- Review 
1/19/2018- Ex Libris- Review 

Week Four: 

1/22/2018- Brittany's Book Rambles- Excerpt (You are here!)
1/23/2018- Seeing Double In Neverland- Review 
1/24/2018- Brooke- Reports- Review 
1/25/2018- Nerdophiles- Review 
1/26/2018- Novel Novice- Excerpt

a Rafflecopter giveaway


  1. I've always loved Batman and I know everyone loves Marie Lu so I will check this out when my library gets it. Thanks for the giveaway!

  2. I'm so excited for this book and that excerpt is amazing! Thanks for sharing, Brittany :)

  3. I'm so excited for this one! Can't wait to read Marie Lu's take on it so thanks for the excerpt! :)

  4. I'm so excited to read Batman: Nightwalker finally! I've been counting down the days since I first heard Marie Lu was doing it. I live her works and can't wait to read her take on Batman! The excerpt was amazing so I know the book will be a favorite!

  5. Right now this book isn't a priority but I do want to read it at some point. I've never read a Marie Lu book before but I've heard a lot of possitive things about her writing. :)

  6. Yay :D Lovely blog tour post Brittany. <3 I pretty much adored this book, and love seeing all the promo for it :) Hugs. <3

  7. Really excited for this one. I love all the superhero "retellings" like this. Thanks for the giveaway!

  8. Thanks for sharing! My copy just arrived last week and I cannot wait to get to it!

  9. Oooh, a teaser that ends with a cliffhanger! Thanks for sharing the excerpt. I'm more excited than ever to read this book!

  10. Dang girl, that is one hell of an excerpt!

    I recently met Marie on tour for this book and got this book signed! :D I'm pretty excited for it - Batman isn't my fave hero by all means but I MEAN, if she's writing it, then it's gotta be good.

    - Aila @ One Way Or An Author