I’m sorry to be writing this, but starting today I’m going to be putting Less Than Heroic on hiatus. I’ve been deliberating on this for a while, and frankly, I’m a little burned out. I’ve been doing LTH for almost three years now, in addition to working on other projects. I don’t feel like I can keep up with the schedule and do the story justice right now. I want to thank everyone who’s read along, and I hope you’ll come finish the story with me when it’s time.

Until then,



P.S. If you’re interested in seeing what else I’ve been working on, you can check it out here:

Chapter Twenty-Two: Meetings

Lucia was waiting for him when he got to the cabin. Outside, in the battered blue armchair, a mug of something hot in one hand.

Brennan wrapped the ambient heat in the car around himself as he climbed out and trudged across the wet leaves to join her.  It was cold today, and for some reason it made the ache worse than usual. Lucia waited until he stepped onto the porch to talk.

“Did it go that badly?” she asked. He didn’t need her powers to see how scared she was. Her fingers were white around the cup in her hands. “What did he say? Are we—”

“It’s fine,” he said. “I mean, it went as well as it could have gone. It was just hard.”

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