Danny Gamegrumps Novels & Stories

Won a brutal fight against a massive opponent. But probably because Danny had shown up unexpectedly at the fight club, I didn't feel the least bit happy or excited about any of it. Everything suddenly seemed boring and meaningless. Like all my victories were hollow and empty. And knowing Danny the way I unfortunately did, he wasn't going to rest until he eventually got a proper chance to talk to me face to face. He was annoyingly persistent when he wanted something badly. I'd seen that trait firsthand when he was obsessively chasing Sexy Red all over the city like a lovesick puppy.

“I’m Steve, and this is Danny. Danny, introduce yourself to Mr. Roberts here.” Danny stuck out his hand, which Carter shook with all of the appropriate solemnity of the occasion. “It’s nice to meet you,” said Carter. “I saw you made a home run, too.” “I’ve watched every game you’ve been in,” said Danny in a rush. “When you pitched and struck out Perry during the World Series…” Danny sighed happily. “I rewatched that so many times.” That had been the moment that had clinched the win for the Orcas, and Carter looked back on that memory with a mixture of fondness and sadness.

“Collection my ass, Matson. “Those fucking figurines you have is a collection, not these damn guns. Or am I going to have to go through the list of shit that Bruce does?” “You are getting really cocky for a man in your situation.” “If a man in your situation did not try and force me to go against my principles, I would still be sitting and sucking your ass.” “I am a bounty hunter, and this steroid bunny here works with me.” “Explains the mood swings; I thought the bunny was having PMS.” Danny starts getting up for what now seems the fifth time, “This bunny is going to slap you.” But then Summer comes back outside, “I am going to slap you. Give Aaron a break now. The only damn thing he has no

My phone buzzed in my hand, and I peeked at it. Danny: My monitor broke down. I rolled my eyes and fought the urge to reply something sarcastic to him. I pursed my lips together and took a deep breath. Here I was, not knowing what I was doing with my life, and all Danny cared about was how his computer broke down. He was probably flipping out because he couldn’t play video games tonight. I shook my head. Putting my phone away, I peeked back up at the guy across from me, checking out his broad frame. I smiled over at him and pressed my knees together.

"Okay, sorry," he shrugged. "I know she's your sister, and she's kind of in her own little world, but there's something about her. Maybe I'm a sucker for hippie tomboys." "You're digging a deeper hole." "Only under your skin," Danny smirked. "I just like to bust your chops, man. Besides, she's so into that sixties shit I bet she doesn't even shave her pits," he scrunched his face up. "Or shower. Her hairs always kind of a mess so maybe..."

She watched him rub his nose as he said these things and remembered some rumors and gossips she heard about a blond guy from the senior years of the Academy. "You're that guy. Anthony Reeves—the Yankee?," she asked but was answered with silence. She sighed and leaned back. "You... haven't shown up at the graduation ceremony, have you?" Anthony looked at her and frowned. "Yeah! Yeah. What a sad story...blah blah," he replied sarcastically as he lay on his back at the other end of the couch, putting some distance between them. "I didn't mean it like...that," Iktanne gasped as she stared at him, wide-eyed.

Silence descended over Sector 4 once more, broken only by the heavy, rhythmic drumming of the rain against the yellow steel. I stood in the center of the three downed men, my chest rising and falling in slow, perfectly measured cycles. The freezing rain washed the wet clay and blood from my face, my dark hair plastered to my skull. My Glock was still raised, the barrel smoking slightly in the freezing air, my eyes scanning the dark perimeter. "Clean sweep," I whispered into the mic, my voice entirely flat, the coldness of the Ghost fully returned. A low, dark growl of absolute, possessive pride vibrated through my earpiece, making my pulse jump in a completely different way.

I awoke early in the morning and decided to go for a run. After my run I showered and changed into a pair of short denim shorts and a halter top. It was a hot day and I was going to be in the kitchen or out at the grill for quite awhile. I had my hair pulled up in a purposely messy bun and my feet were bare. I had steaks marinating, corn and potatoes already roasting and was putting a pan of brownies in the oven when I heard the screen door open and close. I assumed it was Bo and continued what I was doing. A startled squeak left my throat when I turned and saw Alpha Drake. He was standing against the door frame looking sexier than sin in faded jeans and a fitted t-shirt. Drake’s eyes were d

Not now. Don’t give that Rovin to her. Black’s voice slices through my mind. You’re not strong enough. Not yet. Don’t drag us into another nightmare. I want to argue. I want to roar back. But the puck drops again. Danny grabs it instantly, charging forward. I chase, sharp and precise, but he shoots before I reach him. Goal. Danny throws his arms up, triumphant. “Who’s sleeping now?” Jack laughs, bitter, cruel. “Maybe we should call his voodoo girlfriend. She might wake him up.”

Only twice have we gotten personal: one being my shit-ass-drunk confession about my sister-in-law, the other was when Danny broke up with Dick-face. I’ve only ever seen Danny with one guy and that was last summer. He was a dick-face—professional-shirted dick-face with long sleeves and a tie even in the heat. Dressing down for him was taking off his suit jacket and leaving it in his car. The car was another problem, a sissy-assed Prius. I didn’t like him. Liked him even less when I found out he was a defense attorney. Not that Danny told me this. I saw his ad on television in the middle of a baseball game, with his big white teeth offering to help you with your DUI or personal injury case. Ye