Not accustomed to competition on any level, the devil begins the Miss Havana saga by stewing over her worldly antics.
“My patience wears thin for the blight known as Miss Havana. Those who mock me, the magnificent Lucifer, are inevitably rewarded with everlasting pain, and she is on extremely thin ice, assuming that phrase can be applied in my home. If she doesn’t rein in her insolent nature soon, she’ll learn the hard way I can be her worst nightmare.”
He watched her for some time before her lifestyle led to her death, and yet his first impression of her spirit seemed to move him in unexpected ways. “Now, I am not one to be easily impressed by anyone or anything. In fact, in the eternity we have just completed, I cannot recall a single time or event where I have been persuaded that anything from above had any value at all, regardless of how it seemed on the surface, if you get my pun. Therefore, when Miss Havana’s soul came before me I practically swooned, if indeed that term can be used here, and I gasped in delight to observe a soul so dark and riddled with such a rich texture of evil.”
And so it began, a contest between good and evil in which Miss Havana switches sides as necessary to make her points. The four-novel series carries her from beyond the evil of the devil himself to The Trophy Wife, where, after considerable spiritual growth, she becomes God’s trophy despite the rich assortment of death and destruction that lies in her wake. Here is a glimpse into one of her meetings with God.
“Miss Havana jerked upright, slamming into the back of the chair as if hit by a wrecking ball. The chair tilted on its hind legs and then toppled over with a loud crash, sprawling her face up before God’s throne. The seraphim lurched forward, their muscles bulging as they extended their claws.
God cleared His throat. The seraphim stopped in mid-lurch, shrugged, and fell back. Miss Havana swallowed hard, rolled to the side, and struggled to her knees. Sweat glistened across her brow. She straightened her white robe and then righted the chair. When she sat down again, her pulse raced. She looked up with wide eyes. “Are –” She shook her head. “Are you sure?”
She slapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, my God.”
“Yes,” He answered without hesitation.
“No, I mean…how can this be? I mean…You are You, and I’m so…insignificant.”
The radiance surrounding the throne seemed to soften, changing from brilliant white to soft sunset-pink. “Are you? How many others stopped the antichrist from dominating the world? How many others attempted, on their own, to become the Angel of Death—and almost pulled it off? How many others stopped the apocalypse by confronting the horsemen? I will tell you—none. You are unique, and we have much to do.”
As one might expect, God was right. She had done those things but, in some cases, as much by accident as by design. Nevertheless, her encounters on the surface and with the devil throughout the series will keep the reader in stitches. If you want a light-hearted read, somewhat risqué with a serious undercurrent of spiritual growth and abounding hidden meanings, then The Substitute, The Training Bra, The Trophy Wife, and Oh, Heavens, Miss Havana! are for you.
Thank you for stopping by,
James L. Hatch