The Record Series

Two bars, one magical and one human, lie in the exact same space. That should work. It'd better; I run those joints and we're under attack.   I live a pretty weird life—as in gods in speedos, powerful witches with little patience for mere humans, and shifters whose vibrations make my guts quake. Plus, an oceanside bar and a magical book run my existence.   Beach life and eccentric are besties. The record picked me, Cleopatra O'Keefe, to be the next Keeper. I took over the book and started chronicling the intersection and occasional asininity of the human and magical worlds. That's when eccentric plunked its butt on the deck next to mine and we careened into the world of funky oddities seasoned with occasional mayhem.   I've juggled the two worlds for almost twenty years, but my pier is under attack from the one entity feared by gods and magicals alike. Between slinging drinks, writing the history, and trying to keep the worlds in balance, I'm discovering that the Keeper's job has way more depth than the magicals told me. Who's lying? Which bits are truth?   I'm at a crossroads and it's time to make a choice. Toe the line and live, or save the world and die?   Typical Tuesday.  

Humans never knew how magic folks party. Until now.   Halloween is Christmas on steroids if you're of a magical persuasion, which isn't my claim to fame. I'm more of an apprentice of sorts. Oh, not to be magical, that's a born-with-it talent, but when I started waiting tables at a local pier bar, at sixteen, guess who discovered she won the world's weirdest and most exclusive lottery? I, Cleopatra O'Keefe, am a Keeper.    Which will probably kill me sooner rather than later.   Now I'm fixin' to debut as a bartender on my twenty-first birthday—which falls on Halloween—in the magical's hidden bar, serving drinks that could kill me if they explode. Yikes. Lined up for the party are Greek gods, big scary shifters, and witches with crap attitudes. Add in a bunch of huge blue mer people with long, lethal knives and a herd of tiny fairies with murderous skills. Easy peasy, right?   Magicals barely tolerate humans, except for one speedo-clad god who has the serious hots for me. I swear, if I survive the night, it'll be a miracle with a side of mayhem.   Good thing I've got a magic book and an attitude. I'll need both.  

It may not be nice to fool Mother Nature, but to be fair, she started it.   Once again, I'm the puny human Keeper stuck cleaning up the magical world. I'm Cleopatra O'Keefe, owner of the Florida bar directly on the line between the human and magical worlds. Oddities are the norm.   The fact Poseidon spends more time sashaying his speedo clad, exceptionally fine butt around my bar than he does managing his seas doesn't help. He's pissed off the entire mer race, who considers murderous rampages a reasonable response. Not helpful. Plus, Gaia decided that upending the balance of the entire freaking planet is a rational solution. My job, to combine the human and magical worlds, is a teetering mess.   Let's see, who else can jump into this mix? Hades? Perfect.   His grand scheme involves me rounding up Gaia before she blows the Earth sideways and tucking her into Tartarus to chill in the void for a few millennia. Some plan, right? My problem is, gods don't make requests. Ludicrous? Yes. Saying no? Not an option.   Did I mention it's Bike Week? I'm up to my cheeky shorts in bikers, booze, and shenanigans. I multitask like a boss, but this right here -- this stuff will kill me. I need a drink.    

I'm Cleopatra O'Keefe, and I'm tired AF.   In the past year, I've managed to keep a pile of unappreciative gods and magicals on track, and now a rogue, full-on-jerk pixie king I didn't know existed is determined to burn the world—and take me out with it. Normally, I'd see this as a shrug and slug back proposition, but the past year's ginormous battles had a price.   I need a freaking miracle. The entire world is ready for a drink. And that pixie's gotta go. So far, the cocktails are the only part I've got handled. My rock, my forever love, is on the other side of the globe working to help me, but the distance limits what he can do. We're all in survival's countdown, but I'm not down for the count. Yet.   The pixie king's army just blew my safe harbor to smithereens, and everyone I love is at risk.   Time to pour a fat glass of payback. ~~~ Reviews for The Record Series: "A magnificent experience following a magical introduction to the Keeper. An urban magical sci-fi that will rock your socks bringing a new look at the lives and levels of gods, magicals of every form and the role of mankind. Reading this magically woven tale brings both warmth and sadness into your heart. It is sooo well written. I believe it is a tale to be kept once finished to read again and again when joy is needed in your life. So acquire "Boogie Beach: The Record, Book One" as soon as you can, because truly it will blow your socks off." Goodreads Review "I did not know what to expect going into the book and it was a wild, unexpected and fun ride! If you love snark, paranormal anything, and well-written, you will love this book." Verified Amazon Review "I loved this second book in the series because it really kept me guessing where things were going. I wasn't crying through this book, instead I was on the edge of my seat. Loved the ending in this one, but I still can't wait to see what happens in the next book!" Verified Amazon Review "Overall, it's a breezy fun novel that kept me guessing, laughing, and wanting more." Verified Amazon Review Praise for Winnie Winkle's story telling: "Smart writing full of dark humor that compels you to read page after page to see who, or what comes next." Barnes and Noble Review "Winkle's extraordinary way of narration is absolutely remarkable. Every detail was neatly arranged and as the plot began to unravel there were so many moments of surprising twists." Goodreads Review

I had a handle on things, then the dragons showed up.    On the average day, I juggle the human and magical worlds with a reasonable amount of skill. Based on the dude exhaling sparks in front of me, today isn't most days. I'm Cleopatra O'Keefe, a one jigger juggernaut holding the line between the worlds while slinging drinks and using a symbiont book to help me parse these human, magical, and omnipotent miscreants. I'm just one woman, people. Reality much?   Dragon-human hookups are impossible, but Sparky is as real as I am. Poseidon and his ratty red speedo are MIA, and the incoming info all points to the dragons. My question is, are dragons the bad guys or are the Olympians pulling my chain? Their track record kinda sucks.   The Speedo is down. Crud. Day 6,935 of the weirdest job on the planet.  

Down is up, lore is lie, and when the titans aren't busy boinkin' they're getting buzzed. It's shading weird around here.   What's really cookin' my logistical noodle is the immortals. They're dying. Not the most accurate branding, right? I've got a handful of puzzle pieces that don't fit, and a sense of doom that won't quit.   What happens when an immortal dies? I wish I knew. As the Keeper, I'm trying to hold the magical and human worlds aligned. I've got a symbiotic book, a partner, and dumb luck. The upheaval in Olympus is tinder for a witch war. My lover's a god who thinks gaming the system is fine, my bestie is a witch ready to toss the Olympians out on their butts, and I've got to save a new magical race that can't find their behinds with both hands and a flashlight.    Then the real deal showed up ready to burn the world to the ground. I'm screwed, and it's only Wednesday.  

If I could catch a break, that'd be sweet. It's also highly unlikely.   I'm Cleopatra O'Keefe, and after my last world-bending Keeper shenanigan, I thought humanity and the magicals finally settled into a peaceful coexistence. Zeus in a thong, was I ever wrong. Now I've got the four sides–earth, water, fire, and air–squaring off, zero idea what might pull them together, and a ticking time bomb, all courtesy of Uranus. He's the weirdness variable in our planetary meltdown.    All I know is that I get a single shot. Time to figure out how the pieces fit together and get them in the correct order so the planet doesn't go POOF.  To keep it interesting, an unknown malady sidelined my hard won allies and alliances–now each leader lays comatose, zonked with the swirling stars of Uranus lodged in their eyes. Not helpful.   Did I mention the monsters? What would a world's end scenario be without enormous, slobbering, chompy beasts who are practically immortal? Sticking a pin in them? Oh, yeah. Easy peasy. No problem whatsoever.    Crud. This is a job for bourbon; might as well pour a double.