MAN OF THE MONTH Release Blitz: DOWN ON ME by J. Kenner

Down On Me, the first standalone in the Man of the Month Series by #1 New York Times bestselling author J. Kenner is LIVE!

1 - January - Down On Me

Title: Down On Me

Author: J. Kenner

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Publishing Date: January 16th

Tight muscles. Vibrant Ink.
Meet Mr. January. Winter’s never looked so hot …
Certified bachelor Reece Walker wants two things—to save the local bar he manages and to get Jenna Montgomery into his bed.
He has a few ideas for the bar. But Jenna . . . well, he’s going to have to rely on cold showers, because she’s been his best friend for years, and that’s a line he just can’t cross.
Until one wild kiss on a dark night changes everything. Now Reece is certain Jenna’s meant to be his.
And with long nights in bed, sensual caresses, and deep, lingering kisses, he sets out to thoroughly convince her that friends can be lovers, too.
**Down On Me is the first in a binge read series by New York Times, USA Today, Wall Street Journal, Publishers Weekly, and #1 International bestselling author of the million copy Stark series, J. Kenner.
Each book in the series is a STANDALONE novel with NO cliffhanger and a guaranteed HEAT!
But even so, you won’t want to miss any in the series. Because then you can answer the question…
Who’s Your Man of the Month?

AVNOW

Read Today!

Amazon Universal: myBook.to/DownOnMe
Google Play: http://bit.ly/2iNkziM
Add to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2jd6hs6
TEASER_5

About J. Kenner

J. Kenner (aka Julie Kenner) is the New York Times, USA Today, Publishers Weekly, Wall Street Journal and #1 International bestselling author of over seventy novels, novellas and short stories in a variety of genres. Though known primarily for her award-winning and international bestselling erotic romances (including the Stark and Most Wanted series) that have reached as high as #2 on the New York Times bestseller list, JK has been writing full time for over a decade in a variety of genres including paranormal and contemporary romance, “chicklit” suspense, urban fantasy, and paranormal mommy lit. JK has been praised by Publishers Weekly as an author with a “flair for dialogue and eccentric characterizations” and by RT Bookclub for having “cornered the market on sinfully attractive, dominant antiheroes and the women who swoon for them.” A five time finalist for Romance Writers of America’s prestigious RITA award, JK took home the first RITA trophy awarded in the category of erotic romance in 2014 for her novel, Claim Me (book 2 of her Stark Trilogy). Her Demon Hunting Soccer Mom series (as Julie Kenner) is currently in development with AwesomenessTV/Awestruck. Her books have sold over three million copies and are published in over twenty languages. In her previous career as an attorney, JK worked as a clerk on the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals, and practiced primarily civil, entertainment and First Amendment litigation in Los Angeles and Irvine, California, as well as in Austin, Texas. She currently lives in Central Texas, with her husband, two daughters, and two rather spastic cats.

jkenner

Connect with Julie:

Get Sexy Now!: SEX NOT LOVE by Vi Keeland Release Day Launch


AVAILABLE NOW

Amazon | iBooks | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Google Play | Amazon Print | Audible

   




BLURB:



My relationship with Hunter Delucia started backwards. 


We met at a wedding—him sitting on the groom’s side, me sitting on the bride’s. Stealing glances at each other throughout the night, there was no denying an intense, mutual attraction. 

I caught the bouquet; he caught the garter. Hunter held me tightly while we danced and suggested we explore the chemistry sparking between us. His blunt, dirty mouth should’ve turned me off. But for some crazy reason, it had the opposite effect on me.

We ended up back in my hotel room. The next morning, I headed home to New York leaving him behind in California with the wrong number.

I thought about him often, but after my last relationship, I’d sworn off of charming, cocky, gorgeous-as-sin men. A year later, Hunter and I met again at the birth of our friends’ baby. Our attraction hadn't dulled one bit. After a whirlwind trip, he demanded a real phone number this time. So I left him with my mother’s—she could scare away any man with her talks of babies and marriage—and flew back home.

I’d thought it was funny, until the following week when he rang the bell at Mom’s house for Sunday night dinner. The crazy, gorgeous man had won over my mother and taken an eight-week assignment in my city. He proposed we spend that time screwing each other out of our systems. 

Eight weeks of mind-blowing sex with no strings attached? What did I have to lose?

Nothing, I thought.

It’s just sex, not love.

But you know what they say about the best laid plans…


iBooks    http://smarturl.it/vlfabb
Barnes & Noble   http://smarturl.it/hivkor
Google Play   http://smarturl.it/19muiq
Amazon Print    http://smarturl.it/3u10n0
Audible    http://smarturl.it/qbf0bs



Vi Keeland is a #1 New York Times and #1 Wall Street Journal Bestselling author. With millions of books sold, her titles have appeared in over eighty Bestseller lists and are currently translated in nineteen languages. She lives in New York with her husband and their three children where she is living out her own happily ever after with the boy she met at age six. 


Website | Facebook Fan Group | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram       

Other books from Vi Keeland: Standalone novels Beautiful Mistake Amazon eBook http://amzn.to/2uoeoJN iBooks http://smarturl.it/20x53a B&N http://smarturl.it/n8jey6 Kobo http://smarturl.it/1btxsz Egomaniac Amazon: http://smarturl.it/b1gi74 iBooks: http://apple.co/2fIsmvC B&N: http://smarturl.it/t4ohsv Kobo: http://smarturl.it/azmhq9 Bossman Amazon: http://amzn.to/2a8D5B6 iBooks: http://apple.co/25x2jyX B&N: http://bit.ly/29sL4H2 Kobo: http://bit.ly/29lW19I The Baller Amazon: amzn.to/1PBF2hG iBooks: http://bit.ly/iBooksBaller B&N: http:// bit.ly/BarnesBaller Kobo: http:// bit.ly/KoboBaller Left Behind (A Young Adult Novel) http://www.amazon.com/Left-Behind-Vi-Keeland-ebook/dp/B00OJM92LI/ Life on Stage series (2 standalone books) Beat http://www.amazon.com/Beat-Vi-Keeland-ebook/dp/B00ZOMUV12/ http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/beat-vi-keeland/1121715501 https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/beat/id983959123 https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/beat-5 Throb http://www.amazon.com/Throb-Vi-Keeland-ebook/dp/B00SS2RYBU https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/throb/id948747986 http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/throb-vi-keeland/1121112695 https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/throb-4 MMA Fighter series (3 standalone books) Worth the Fight http://www.amazon.com/Worth-Fight-Vi-Keeland-ebook/dp/B00FLG5B9S https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/worth-the-fight/id805540252 http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/worth-the-fight-vi-keeland/1117014180 http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/worth-the-fight Worth the Chance http://www.amazon.com/Worth-Chance-Vi-Keeland-ebook/dp/B00I2UKQOK https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/worth-the-chance/id813714461 http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/worth-the-chance-vi-keeland/1118634058 http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/worth-the-chance Worth Forgiving http://www.amazon.com/Worth-Forgiving-Vi-Keeland-ebook/dp/B00MWL78EG https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/worth-forgiving/id906130022?ls=1&mt=11 http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/worth-forgiving-vi-keeland/1120173153 http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/worth-forgiving The Cole Series (2 book serial) Belong to You http://www.amazon.com/Belong-You-A-Cole-Novel-ebook/dp/B00BUTCXLE/ https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/belong-to-you/id639401754 http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/belong-to-you-vi-keeland/1114962845 http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/belong-to-you Made for You http://www.amazon.com/Made-You-A-Cole-Novel-ebook/dp/B00DPWVKS6 https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/made-for-you/id84550637 http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/made-for-you-vi-keeland/1115883225 http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/belong-to-you Co-written novels Cocky Bastard Amazon: http://amzn.to/1LfN3fc iTunes: http://apple.co/1PffE2J B&N: http://bit.ly/1EjxNpY Kobo: http://bit.ly/1UxCSUO Stuck-Up Suit Amazon: http://amzn.to/1S3LnpZ iBooks: http://apple.co/1Qbwy57 B&N: http://bit.ly/29vrQhV Kobo: http:// bit.ly/1RJdUif Playboy Pilot Amazon: http://amzn.to/2d5I5rS iBooks: http://apple.co/1Wb06Cf Nook: bit.ly/2caXPEK Kobo: http://bit.ly/2cJDXO1 Mister Moneybags Amazon http://amzn.to/2oTaaHf Barnes & Noble http://smarturl.it/kx7h8m iBooks http://smarturl.it/3y1tuq Kobo http://smarturl.it/qqf5ho Dear Bridget, I Want You Amazon: ➜ http://amzn.to/2sGyJbZ iBooks: ➜ http://smarturl.it/y4x3xi B&N ➜ http://smarturl.it/o780mb Kobo: ➜ http://smarturl.it/kfgc6a Google: ➜ http://smarturl.it/7cvewu

FOLLOW THE BAT SIGNAL : BATMAN:NIGHTWALKER by Marie Lu, Except + Giveaway


Hello and thank you for joining us on our tour stop for BATMAN: Nightwalker by Marie Lu. We are big fans of this series and just ask Christy and she will tell you how much she enjoyed reading BATMAN. So, you can imagine that we are extremely happy to participate in this tour hosted by ROCKSTAR BOOK TOURS. Make sure to check out the excerpt we have posted and don't forget to enter the giveaway at the end of the post.



About the Book:
Title: BATMAN: NIGHTWALKER (DC Icons #2)
Author: Marie Lu
Pub. Date: January 2, 2018
Publisher: Random House Books for Young Readers
Pages: 272
Formats: Hardcover, eBook, audiobook
Find it: GoodreadsAmazonAudibleB&NiBooksTBD


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.



EXCERPT


P R O L O G U E 







The blood underneath her nails bothered her.
Cheap, stupid, useless gloves, the girl thought in annoyance. She had even worn two layers of them tonight, but a rare errant slash from the knife had sliced through both layers, and now the blood had gotten on her hands. Stupid. On any other night, she would have stopped and—carefully, methodically—scraped the scarlet flakes out from under her nails, one line after another. But she had no time right now.
No time, no time.
Moonlight cut across the floor of the mansion, illuminating part of the man’s naked body. He bled strangely, the girl thought, compared with the others. The blood just pooled beneath him in a perfect circle, like a disk of smooth frosting on a cake.
She sighed again and stuffed her canister of red spray paint into her backpack, then grabbed a few of the rags strewn on the floor. On the wall beside her was the symbol she had just hurriedly finished drawing.
They had mistimed everything tonight, from the unexpected

1



M A R I E  L U

complications of Sir Robert Grant’s security system at the entrance of the mansion to the surprise of him seeing them first instead of being sound asleep. They were running late. She hated running late. She hurried around the bedroom chamber, gathering their tools and stuffing them all into her backpack. The moonlight illuminated her features in regular intervals as she moved past the row of win- dows. Her mother used to tell her that she had doll-like features, had been doll-like since birth—large, liquid-dark eyes; long, long lashes; a slender nose and a rosebud of a mouth; porcelain skin.
Her eyebrows cut straight and soft across her brow, giving her an expression that looked permanently vulnerable.
That was the thing about her. No one ever saw what mattered until it was too late. Until their blood stained her fingernails.
Her hair had come undone in all the rush, tumbling in a river of black over her shoulders, and she paused to whip it back up into a knot. No doubt a strand or two had come loose and were now ly- ing somewhere on the floor, leaving a clue for the police to follow. But no matter—if she could just escape from here in time. What a messy getaway, so uncharacteristic of her.
I’m going to kill them, she thought bitterly. Leaving me to clean this up—
Somewhere in the night came the wail of sirens.
She froze, listening intently. Her hand flew instinctively to rest on one of the knives strapped around her thigh. Then she started to run. Her boots made no sound—she moved like a shadow, the only noise being the faint bump of her bag against her back. As she went, she pulled her black scarf up across the bottom half of her face, hiding her nose and mouth from view, and fitted her pair of dark visors over her eyes. Through the visors, the mansion trans- formed into a grid of heat signals and green lines.
The sirens were closing in rapidly.
She paused again for a breath, listening. They came from differ- ent directions—they were going to surround her. No time, no time.

2



B A T M A N 

She darted down the mansion’s staircase, her figure lost entirely in the shadows, then made a sharp turn at the bottom to head not for the front door but for the cellar. The security system had been rewired to seal the front door’s lock from the inside, but the cellar was their getaway route, all alarms cleared and window locks ready for her command.
As she reached the cellar, the sirens outside turned deafening.
The police had arrived.
“Window A open,” she muttered into her mouthpiece. At the other end of the room, the rewired window unlocked with a soft, obedient click. The police would gather at the front and back doors, but they wouldn’t think to look on the side of such a huge house yet, not without knowing there was a tiny window at ground level. She ran faster.
She reached the window and started pulling herself up and through it, snaking her way out in the span of a second. On the front lawn, she could hear a police officer shouting into a mega- phone, could see the heat signals of at least a dozen guards in heavy body armor crouched around the mansion’s perimeter, their faces hidden behind helmets and their assault rifles all pointed toward the door.
She leaped to her feet in the darkness, pulled her visor up, and prepared to dart away.
A blinding light flooded over her.
“Hands in the air!” Several voices were shouting at her at the same time. She heard the clicks of loaded weapons, then the furi- ous barking of police dogs barely restrained by their partners. “On your knees! Now!”
They had found her. She wanted to spit out a curse. No time, no time. And now it was too late. At least the others on the mission had already fled. For a fraction of a second, she thought about pull- ing out her knives and throwing herself at the closest officer, using him as a hostage.

3



M A R I E  L U

But there were far too many here, and the light had blinded her enough to make her vision inaccurate. She didn’t have the time to make such a move without the police unleashing the dogs, and she had no desire to be mauled to death.
So instead, she put her hands up.
Officers shoved her hard to the ground; her face scraped against dirt and grass. She saw a glimpse of herself reflected in the police’s opaque helmets, and the barrels of guns pointed directly in her face.
“We got her!” one shouted into his radio, his voice hoarse with excitement and fear. “She’s in custody! Stand by—”
You got me, she echoed to herself as she felt cold cuffs snap onto her wrists. But with her cheek pressed against the ground, she still allowed herself a small, mocking smile behind her scarf.
You got me . . . for now.







C H A P T E R 1







If Bruce Wayne belonged in any car, it was this one: a brand-new, custom Aston Martin, mean and sleek and charcoal black, embel- lished with a stripe of metallic shine along its roof and hood.
Now he pushed the car to its limits, indulging in the roar of its engines, the way it responded to his slightest touch as it hugged the sunset streets right outside Gotham City. The vehicle was a gift from WayneTech, fitted with the latest WayneTech security features—a historic collaboration between the legendary carmaker and the Wayne empire.
Now the tires screeched in protest as Bruce hit another sharp turn.
“I heard that,” said Alfred Pennyworth from the car’s live video touch screen. He gave Bruce a withering look. “A bit slower on the turns, Master Wayne.”
“Aston Martins weren’t made for slow turns, Alfred.” “They weren’t made to be wrecked, either.”
Bruce smiled sidelong at his guardian. The setting sun glinted off his aviator sunglasses as he turned the car back in the direction

5



M A R I E  L U

of Gotham City’s skyscrapers. “No faith in me at all, Alfred,” he said lightly. “You’re the one who taught me how to drive in the first place.”
“And did I teach you to drive like a demon possessed?”
“A demon possessed with skills,Bruce clarified. He spun the steering wheel in a smooth motion. “Besides, it’s a gift from Aston Martin, and it’s armed to the teeth with WayneTech security. The only reason I’m driving it at all is to show off its safety capabilities at the benefit tonight.”
Alfred sighed. “Yes. I remember.”
“And how can I do that properly without testing what this masterpiece  can do?”
“Displaying WayneTech security at a benefit isn’t the same thing as using it to tempt death,” Alfred replied, his tone drier than ever. “Lucius Fox asked you to take the car to the party so that the press can do a proper write-up about it.”
Bruce made another hairpin turn. The car calculated the road ahead instantly, and on the windshield, he saw a series of transpar- ent numbers appear and fade. Responding with uncanny precision, the car was in perfect sync with the road as it mapped out the sur- rounding terrain down to the last detail.
“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” Bruce insisted. “Trying to get it there on time.”
Alfred shook his head tragically as he dusted a windowsill at Wayne Manor, the sunlight casting his pale skin in shades of gold. “I’m going to kill Lucius for thinking this was a good idea.”
An affectionate smile lingered on Bruce’s lips. Sometimes he thought his guardian bore a remarkable resemblance to a timber wolf, with his attentive, world-weary, winter-blue gaze. A few strands of white had started to streak Alfred’s hair over the past few years, and the crow’s-feet lining the corners of his eyes had deep- ened. Bruce wondered if he was the reason for it. At the thought, he slowed down just a little.

6



B A T M A N 

It was that time of evening when people could catch a glimpse of bats heading out into the night to hunt. As Bruce reached the inner city, he spotted a cloud of them silhouetted against the dim- ming sky, circling out of the city’s dark corners to join the rest of their colony.
Bruce felt the familiar tug of nostalgia. His father had once designated land near the Wayne mansion as one of the largest bat havens in the city. Bruce still had childhood memories of crouching there in awe on the front lawn, his toy gadgets forgotten as Dad pointed out the creatures streaming into the dusk by the thou- sands, sweeping across the sky in an undulating stripe. They were individuals, Dad had said, and yet they still knew, somehow, to move as one.
At the memory, Bruce’s hand tightened against the steering wheel. His father should be here, sitting in the passenger seat and observing the bats with him. But that, of course, was impossible.
The streets turned grungier as Bruce got closer to downtown, until the skyscrapers blocked out the lowering sun and shrouded alleyways in shadows. He streaked past Wayne Tower and the Seco Financial Building, where a few tents were pitched in its alleys—a stark contrast, poverty right next to a rich financial beacon. Nearby was the Gotham City Bridge, its repainting half finished. A col- lection of dilapidated, low-income homes sat haphazardly under- neath it.
Bruce didn’t remember the city looking this way when he was younger—he had a memory of Gotham City as an impressive jun- gle of concrete and steel, filled with a rotation of expensive cars and doormen in black coats, the scent of new leather and men’s co- logne and women’s perfume, the gleaming lobbies of fancy hotels, the deck of a yacht facing the city lights illuminating the harbor.
With his parents at his side, he’d only seen the good—not the graffiti, or the trash in the gutters, or the abandoned carts and peo- ple huddled in shadowed corners, jingling coins in paper cups. As a

7



M A R I E  L U

sheltered child, he’d seen only what Gotham City could give you for the right price, and none of what it did to you for the wrong one.
That had all changed on one fateful night.
Bruce had known he would be lingering on thoughts of his parents today, the day his trust funds opened. But as much as he braced himself for it, the memories still cut at his heart.
He pulled onto the road curving toward Bellingham Hall. A red carpet spanned the front sidewalk and went up the steps, and a bevy of paparazzi had gathered beside the road, their cameras already flashing at his car.
“Master Wayne.”
Bruce realized that Alfred was still talking to him about safety. “I’m listening,” he said.
“I doubt that. Did you hear me tell you to schedule a meeting with Lucius Fox tomorrow? You’re going to be working with him all summer—you should at least start putting together a detailed plan.”
“Yes, sir.”
Alfred paused to fix him with a stern look. “And behave your- self  tonight. Understood?”
“My plan is to stand still in a corner and not make a sound.” “Very funny, Master Wayne. I’ll hold you to your word.” “No birthday wishes for me, Alfred?”
At that, a smile finally slipped onto Alfred’s face, softening his stern features. “And happy eighteenth, Master Wayne.” He nod- ded once. “You are Martha’s boy, hosting this event. She would be proud of you.”
Bruce closed his eyes for a moment at the mention of his mother. Instead of celebrating her birthday every year, she would throw a benefit, and the money raised went straight into the Gotham City Legal Protection Fund, a group that defended those who couldn’t afford to defend themselves in court. Bruce would carry on her


8



B A T M A N 

tradition tonight, now that the responsibility for his family’s for- tune had officially fallen on his shoulders.
You are Martha’s boy. But Bruce just shrugged off the praise, unsure how to accept it. “Thanks, Alfred,” he replied. “Don’t wait up for me.”
The two ended the call. Bruce pulled to a stop in front of the hall, and for a heartbeat he let himself sit there, stilling his emo- tions while the paparazzi shouted at him from outside the car.
He had grown up under the spotlight, had endured years of headlines about him and his parents. eight-year-old bruce wayne sol witnes t parents murders bruc wayn se t inherit fortune!   eighteen-year-old   bruce   wayne   now   the   worlds
wealthiest teen! On and on and on.
Alfred had filed restraining orders against photographers for pointing their long lenses at Wayne Manor’s windows, and Bruce had once run home from elementary school in tears, terrified of the eager paparazzi who had nearly hit him with their cars. He’d spent the first few years trying to hide from them—as if holing away in his room at the manor somehow meant that the tabloids wouldn’t make up new rumors.
But either you hid from reality or you dealt with it. And over time, Bruce had built up a shield, had negotiated an unspoken truce with the press.
He would show up with his carefully cultivated public de- meanor, let them take the photos they wanted. In return, they’d shine the spotlight on the issue of his choice. And right now   that issue was WayneTech’s work to make Gotham City safer— everything from new security technology for the city’s bank ac- counts to drones that aided the Gotham City Police Department to auto safety features that WayneTech would release for free, open- source technology to all carmakers.
Over the years, Bruce had spent countless nights hunched



9



M A R I E  L U

at his bedroom desk, listening obsessively to police scanners and following cold cases on his own. He had burned out dozens of lightbulbs while deconstructing WayneTech prototypes under his desk lamp in the darkness before dawn, holding up glittering micro- chips and artificial joints, studying the technology his corporation was making to improve the city’s safety.
If forwarding that agenda meant being in the news, well then, so be it.
As a valet rushed over to open his car door, Bruce veiled his discomfort, stepped out with a single, graceful move, and gave the reporters a flawless smile. The cameras went into overdrive. A pair of bodyguards in black suits and dark shades shoved people back, clearing a path for him, but the reporters still crowded in, their microphones  extended,  shouting questions.
“Are you looking forward to your graduation?” “Are you enjoy- ing your new wealth?” “How do you feel about being the world’s youngest billionaire?” “Who are you dating, Bruce?” “Hey, Bruce, look this way! Give us a smile!”
Bruce obliged, offering them an easy grin. He knew he photo- graphed well—long and lean, his blue eyes dark as sapphire against his white complexion, his black hair perfectly smoothed back, his suit tailored and oxfords polished. “Good evening,” he said as he stood for a moment in front of the car.
“Bruce!” one paparazzo shouted. “Is that car your first pur- chase?” He winked. “Enjoying your trust fund already?”
Bruce just looked at him steadily, refusing to take the bait. “This is the newest Aston Martin on the market, fully equipped with WayneTech safety technology. You are welcome to explore its interior tonight for an exclusive first look.” He held his hand out toward the car, where one of his suited guards had opened the door for the press to peek in. “Thank you all for covering my mother’s benefit tonight. It means a lot to me.”
He continued talking for a bit about the charity that the event

10



B A T M A N 

would support, but everyone shouted right over him, ignoring his words. Bruce faced them wearily, and for an instant, he felt alone and outnumbered. His gaze scanned past the tabloid paparazzi, searching for the journalists from official papers. He could already see  the  headlines  tomorrow: Bruc Wayn blow ne mone on million-dolla car! trus fun bab waste n time! But inter- spersed with those would hopefully be a few true headlines, detail- ing the work being done at WayneTech. That was what mattered. So he lingered, enduring the photos.
After letting the cameras flash wildly for a few moments, Bruce made his way up toward the hall’s entrance. Other guests min- gled at the top of the stairs—members of Gotham City’s upper class, the occasional council member, clusters of admirers. Bruce found himself categorizing everyone in the crowd. It was a survival skill he’d learned since his parents’ deaths. There were the people who’d invite him to dinner only in an attempt to get gossip out of him. The people willing to betray friends in order to become his. The occasional wealthy classmate who’d spread lies about him out of bitter envy. The ones who’d do anything to get a date with him and then share the details with the rags the next morning.
But on the surface, he kept his cool, greeting everyone politely. Only a few more steps until he’d reach the entrance. All he had to do was make it inside, and then he could find—
“Bruce!”
A familiar voice cut above the chaos. Bruce looked up to where a girl was standing on tiptoe and waving at him from the top of the stairs. Dark hair skimmed her shoulders, and the hall’s floor lights highlighted her brown skin and the round curve of her hips. There was glitter woven into the fabric of her dress, shimmering silver as she moved. “Hey!” she called. “Over here!”
Bruce’s careful demeanor dissolved in relief. Dianne Garcia.
Category: genuine.





About Marie:


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.




Giveaway Details:


3 winners will receive a finished copy of BATMAN: NIGHTWALKER, US Only.


Rafflecopter Embed Code:




Rafflecopter link:




Make sure to follow this tour with these great blogs

Week One:
1/1/2018- Pen and ParchmentReview
1/2/2018- Margie's Must ReadsReview
1/3/2018- YA Book NerdReview
1/4/2018- Mary Had a Little Book BlogReview
1/5/2018- A Gingerly ReviewReview

Week Two:
1/8/2018- YA BibliophileReview
1/9/2018- Here's to Happy EndingsReview
1/10/2018- The Young FolksReview
1/11/2018- The Book NutReview
1/12/2018- The Wanderlust ReaderReview

Week Three:
1/15/2018- Tales of the Ravenous ReaderExcerpt
1/16/2018- a GREAT readReview
1/17/2018- BookHounds YAReview
1/18/2018- Icey BooksReview
1/19/2018- Ex LibrisReview

Week Four:
1/22/2018- Brittany's Book RamblesExcerpt
1/23/2018- Seeing Double In NeverlandReview
1/24/2018- Brooke- ReportsReview
1/25/2018- Nerdophiles- Review
1/26/2018- Novel NoviceExcerpt

Week Five:
1/29/2018- YA Books CentralReview
1/30/2018- Bookish In BedReview
1/31/2018- Book BriefsReview