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Of Stars and Clay by Elizabeth M. Herrera

“Amazing work. One that should be in the hands of every human on Earth who cares about this planet.” — Dr. Stewart A. Swerdlow, Grand Prior of New Templar Order

In “Of Stars and Clay”, a band of people called the Earth Sentinels, led by a fallen angel, try to save mankind from the grips of an unseen dark force, which uses commercial airliners to spray an engineered virus around the world. The virus kills over 70% of the world’s population—the youngest and oldest. Gone are the scientists, leaders, military commanders, teachers, engineers, parents and children. The only ones left standing are those useful to the dark force’s agenda.

To maintain order, the United Nations organization dutifully steps in, but its leaders are not what they appear to be. The trusted UN uniform causes each country’s army to hand over its leash. All of the world’s soldiers follow the commands of the New World Order without a single shot being fired. The devious plan unfolds perfectly—with one exception.

The virus brings about an unexpected DNA mutation among the Earth Sentinels, causing them to develop supernatural abilities. As the story unfolds, the Earth Sentinels uncover secrets about mankind’s origins, ancient astronauts, genetic engineering, the illuminati, and the lies that have been woven throughout religion and history.

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Elizabeth M. Herrera’s Books At-a-Glance

All Book CoversOf Stars and Clay

Earth Sentinels II cover

Without us, they have no power.

An engineered virus kills most of mankind. Those who survive are controlled from behind the scenes by a dark force that has waited millenniums for global domination. Gone are our scientists, leaders, military commanders, teachers, engineers, parents and children—the only ones left standing are those useful to the agenda.

To maintain order, the United Nations organization dutifully steps in, but its leaders are not what they appear to be. The trusted UN uniform causes each country’s army to hand over its leash. All of the world’s soldiers follow the commands of the New World Order without a single shot being fired. The devious plan unfolds perfectly—with one exception.

The virus brings about an unexpected DNA mutation among a handful of Earth Sentinels, causing them to develop supernatural abilities. Those impacted are: Zachary Thompson, a young American adapting to the Amazon Jungle alongside his indigenous wife and children; Haruto, a Miko in Japan, who lives with her lover, Billy White Smoke; and Tom Running Deer and Cecile Two Feathers, rebellious Native Americans who reside on a reservation in Canada. While their transformative changes unfold, Bechard the fallen angel tries to regroup his fellow Earth Sentinels so they can save mankind.

During their perilous mission, the Earth Sentinels uncover secrets about mankind’s origins, ancient astronauts, genetic engineering, the illuminati, and the lies that have been woven throughout religion and history.

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Dreams of Heaven

Winner of the Readers’ Favorite Award

Dreams of Heaven Cover-ebook

Sometimes Our Greatest Tragedies Offer Our Greatest Lessons

Savannah Watkins is haunted by a dream of losing her family in a tragic car accident, which causes her to vacillate between two lives—before and after the car accident. As she struggles between realities, Jesus Christ suddenly appears to offer her unorthodox guidance. He accompanies her to the grocery store and for walks on the beach while answering some of life’s toughest questions.

Dreams of Heaven (2017) takes you on a fantastical journey with Jesus, who leads the way through an alternate interpretation of his ancient teachings and applies them to one of our worst nightmares—being separate from the ones we love.

Genre: Fiction, Spirituality


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The Earth Sentinels: The Storm Creators

“Every bit as telling and accurate as “Animal Farm” and “Fahrenheit 451”. — Mark Champion, OurHealingMatters.com

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“Quick paced with a powerful message.” — Greg Kincaid, New York Times Bestselling Author

Intriguing blue doors and ethereal mists beckon people who are devastated by mankind’s greed, corruption and indifference, such as Zachary, a young man whose family’s organic farm is ruined by fracking; and Haruto, a Miko living in Fukushima, Japan, where the nuclear meltdown is raging out of control; Mahakanta, a cotton farmer in India, who used GMO seeds with devastating results; Amazonian tribe members, Conchita and her father, Pahtia, who are fighting against the intruders illegally tearing down their rainforest; and the Bear Claw First Nation Tribe that is dealing with an unstoppable oil spill, which is ruining their traditional hunting grounds. After stepping into another dimension, they find themselves face to face with the mastermind Bechard, a fallen angel and the Master of the Elements.

Together, they use supernatural powers to grab the world’s attention, demanding that the world’s leaders implement the changes…or else. But as the events unfold and governments retaliate, the characters are forced to question their motives, fight for their lives and listen to their hearts.

Genre: Visionary Fiction, Contemporary Fantasy (2014)

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“Unique and captivating, we need only to listen in order to learn her subtle, yet powerful spiritual message.” —Awareness Magazine

What if you didn’t believe in God and miracles started to occur?

Shaman Stone Soup (2010) takes you on the journey of an atheist who discovers Native American spirituality and becomes a healer for friends, family and clients. The author shares her personal stories that demonstrate how spirit guides, angels and enlightened beings can answer calls for help through miracles. You will read about the matronly ghost who overstayed her welcome, the spirits of ancient wise men who offered advice and a miraculous cure from cancer for a friend, the man who got out of his wheelchair to go hunting and fishing, a vivid dream and later chance meeting of a pastor who needed guidance, the metamorphosis of a schizophrenic, the loving afterlife contact from her mother who died unexpectedly, and many other stories.

Read Excerpt: Gas Station Dreams

Read Excerpt: The Spirits of Past, Present and Future

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Of Stars and Clay | Chapter 3

Earth Sentinels II coverSpider Webs

In Alberta, Canada, the sunset glowed through the virgin forest surrounding the Bear Claw First Nation Reservation. An hour earlier, the tribe members had grilled hot dogs and hamburgers, but now lounged around the bonfire talking and laughing while the children entertained themselves by burning sticks. Some of the men stood outside the circle drinking beer and smoking cigarettes.

John, a spirited young man with long hair that hung free, carried an armload of logs to the fire. He shooed away the kids before placing the wood on top of the burning embers. Sparks shot into the air. He grabbed a stick, using it to prod the logs until the flames grew bolder, dazzling the children who drew closer once more.

One of the boys stepped away from the blaze, going over to Tom Running Deer, a headstrong man in his mid-thirties who sat beside his equally headstrong wife, Cecile Two Feathers. The couple both had black hair woven into braids. The boy tugged on Tom’s t-shirt, which had the words “The Original Founding Fathers” printed above an illustration of four Native American chiefs.

The man set down his beer. “Yes?”

“Uncle, tell us a story,” Hoki requested, his big brown eyes hopeful.

Tom shook his head. “No, not me. Grandmother Hausis is the storyteller.”

Overhearing her name, the old woman, who wore a flower-print cotton dress, knee-high support socks and orthopedic shoes, stopped chatting with the woman next to her. She turned her gray-haired head, calling out in a crackling voice, “What? Did I hear my name?”

Tom explained, talking louder than normal, “Grandmother! Hoki wants a story! Would you do it!?”

When the other children heard the request, they aptly followed the conversation. They loved to listen to the stories.

“What does he want to hear?” Grandmother Hausis asked.

Hoki pointed at the sky. “Tell me about those.”

Everyone gazed up at the hazy opalescent plane trails that marred the burnt-orange sky.

“Those things?” The old woman shook her head. She knew the tribe had no ancient stories of this modern-day phenomenon. “Nay, why don’t you do it, Tommy?”

Hoki and the other kids refocused their eager energy on Tom.

Cecile patted her husband on the back, and said with a smile, “Yeah, let’s hear it, big guy.”

He cleared his throat while racking his brain. “Ah…give me a minute.”

The children settled in the dirt in front of him.

Tom tried to remain optimistic for the young ones, but, deep inside, he was somber. He had done his best to ignore the plane trails all day long because he knew the Earth Sentinels’ agreement with the world’s governments had been violated, and it was too bitter of a pill to swallow after five years of good medicine.

The fire sizzled and snapped.

Everyone grew quiet, waiting for the story to begin.

Tom cleared his throat. “There are prophecies from another tribe that speak of the end of days. One says, ‘near the Time of Purification, there will be spider webs spun in the sky.’”

The children’s eyes grew big.

A girl pointed at the misty plane trails, asking with a slight lisp because her front baby teeth were missing, “But…how’d they get there?”

Tom was at a loss for words. He didn’t want to ruin the mood of the gathering by explaining that, in the past, the government had sprayed chemicals into the atmosphere for unverified reasons. Geo-engineering, such as cloud seeding, was one possibility. He also had read that the sprays might contain particles that were used to reflect the sun to counteract global warming. However, because of the secrecy, he suspected something more sinister was afoot.

Not wanting to disappoint them, Tom improvised, “Once upon a time, there was a giant spider that spun webs to keep the stars from floating away.”

His opening line captivated the children. Some of the adults chuckled. They knew he was crafting the tale from scratch.

“Whenever a strand was weak, the spider would climb up to fix it, keeping every star in place. And, because of her efforts, everything was good and balanced. But one night, the spider slept too long, and one of the strings broke, letting a star hurl through space.” Tom pretended to fling a star.

The children envisioned it flying away, lost in the cosmos.

“The hole needed to be filled so the Giant Spider went after it, hoping to catch the star and bring it back.” Tom moved his fingers like a spider scurrying through space. “But while she was gone, another spider snuck through the hole.

“Now this new spider was not like the other one. It thought only of itself, and weaved a web across the hole to keep the Giant Spider from returning. And that—” Tom pointed at the plane trails in the sky, “is what that is. The Sneaky Spider’s web.”

A boy asked, “How will the Giant Spider get back?”

“When she returns with the missing star, its heat will burn up the Sneaky Spider and its sticky web. And after the star is in place, the world will become balanced once more.”

“Is the Giant Spider coming back soon?” Hoki asked.

“I hope so.”


A steady downpour hit the roof of the shack where Tom and Cecile slept. The clock on the nightstand read 8:05 a.m. The dreamcatcher hanging on the wall above the bed served as the headboard.

The sound of the rain prodded Cecile awake. She immediately noticed the aches in her body, then her throbbing head, and wondered how a sickness could come on so quickly. She looked over at her husband. His face was flushed. Concerned, she touched his forehead with the back of her hand. Feverish.

Tom opened his bloodshot eyes.

Cecile gasped. “Tom! Your eyes—” She didn’t finish her sentence. A sudden urge to vomit overcame her.

She tossed the covers off herself, rushing out of the bedroom, through the living room, and past the frayed green chair sitting under the rain-spattered window. By the time she made it to the bathroom’s threshold, she was lightheaded and forced to hold onto the doorframe to steady herself. What is wrong with me?

She reached for the sink counter, making her way to the toilet. She sunk to her knees, placing her head over the bowl, throwing up.

Tom unsteadily entered the bathroom to check on her. “You okay?”

She shook her head.

“Me, neither. Damn, I feel—” He unexpectedly gagged, then motioned for her to move out of the way.

Cecile sat back as Tom kneeled over the bowl, every muscle in his body contracting as he retched. Dizzy, he fell to the vinyl floor, lying face down and moaning.

“Tom!” she cried out, pulling on his shoulder, attempting to turn him over, but his moans echoed through her mind.

The room began spinning.

Cecile became disoriented.

Everything went black.


The makeshift infirmary in the tribe’s community center was divided in half by a waist-high barrier created out of blankets and sheets draped over chairs spaced evenly apart. The temporary wall offered a slice of privacy for the sick people lying on the floor. Men were on one side and women on the other. Most of them slept. A few moaned because of their aches and pain. All had blotches that resembled bruises covering their bodies.

A teenage boy entered from the outside through the entrance doors that had been propped open to let in the sunlight. The overhead fluorescent lights were off because the power was out. The teenager looked much healthier than his counterparts as he carried in a bucket of water that sloshed over the sides.

Adeelah, a junior at the reservation’s school, walked around the room to see who needed her assistance. She held a pitcher of water in one hand and a few empty mugs in the other. The blotches on her skin were almost indiscernible.

Cecile’s eyes, laced with broken blood vessels, flickered open for the first time since she fell ill. She lay on the floor with no idea how she had gotten here. 

Adeelah noticed that Cecile was awake and made her way over to her, sidestepping the other women. This normally timid girl seemed to embrace her role as a caregiver. She set the pitcher down, kneeling beside Cecile to check her temperature by feeling her forehead, saying, “You’re better, but you should drink something.” Adeelah poured water into an empty mug, then held it against the woman’s dry lips while telling her, “Just so you know, Tom’s here and he’s doing fine. He’s on the other side.”

Pulling her mouth away from the cup, Cecile asked, “Can I see him?” She tried to get up, but became woozy and had to stop.

Adeelah helped her to lie back down. “You should rest. Okay? Don’t worry, you’ll both be fine.”

Cecile examined Adeelah’s face, trying to detect if the interim nurse was lying, but found it hard to focus. She was simply too tired and weak. Her eyelids drooped.

Adeelah placed the half-empty mug next to the sick woman’s pillow. “Let me know if you need anything else,” she said, then walked away. There were others that needed her help.

Left alone, Cecile groggily noticed the teenagers were the only ones taking care of the others. She wondered, Where’s Grandmother Hausis? The elders? The children? But she didn’t have the strength to ask, and maybe didn’t want to know.

She fell asleep, dreaming she was walking down a red road. The sides were lined with arching trees dotted with pink blossoms. Crows flew overhead. The fiery ball in the sky was touching the horizon.

Each of Cecile’s footsteps became heavier than the last, and just when she thought she couldn’t go any farther, a stag stepped out from behind the trees, standing in the middle of the road. The sunset silhouetted its strong form and magnificent set of antlers.

The totem animal had a message for her. “This will be your most difficult lesson, but you will find the strength, wisdom and courage to do that which must be done.”

The stag became streams of light, swirling around Cecile, joining with her spirit before the woman drifted deeper into her dreams.


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Of Stars and Clay | Chapter 2

Earth Sentinels II coverCurator’s House

High in the misty foothills of the Ōu Mountains in Japan, built on the grounds of an ancient temple, stood a one-room curator’s house that was crafted out of stones excavated from the mountainside. A 200-year-old rose bush clung to its southern wall, dotting the stonework with thorny canes and yellow blossoms.

Inside the dwelling, the morning sunlight peeked through a gap in the faded cotton curtains, the warm rays fell over the futon where a man and woman lay together.

The man, a Native American named Billy White Smoke, had made his living by working construction and odd jobs back in the States until he ventured across the ocean to find the woman beside him. Her name was Haruto. She was an Earth Sentinel, like Billy, but also a Miko like her mother, grandmother and great-grandmother before her—a tradition dating back thousands of years to when female shamans mingled with Japan’s ruling class, acting as healers, mediums and ritual dancers. Her flowing black hair, tinged with a few grays, was sprawled across the pillow.

Billy held her close, kissing her forehead before rubbing her pregnant belly with his calloused hand.

Haruto wistfully said, “I wish this moment could last forever.”

His deep voice tenderly responded, “But then the baby would never come.”

“True.”

“Still think it’s a girl?”

She nodded.

“We’ll have to think of a name for her. Maybe your mother’s?”

“Maybe.”

Billy hesitated, then said, “I was thinking, before the baby comes, we could get married.” He waited for her response.

Haruto frowned. “We’ve talked about this before.”

He turned away, lying on his back, clasping his hands behind his head, trying to remain calm.

She said, “We are in love and have a baby on the way. I don’t understand why that’s not enough for you.” 

Billy answered louder than he intended, “Because I’ve traveled around the world to be with you.” He immediately regretted raising his voice and softened his tone. “I just thought you’d meet me halfway.”

“You know I want to be with you forever, but—”

“But what?”

“I just thought that you, of all people, would appreciate not conforming to society’s expectations. To its patriarchal controls—”

“God knows, no man would ever control you.”

Haruto shrugged. There was some truth to his words. “We can talk later, but, right now, I have to get ready for an appointment.”

Billy wasn’t happy at where the conversation was ending, but he was old enough to know you have to pick your battles, so he said, “Fine, I’ll walk with you.” He flung the duvet off himself, getting out of bed to rifle through his clothes piled on top of the dresser, putting on a pair of work jeans and a black t-shirt. He grabbed his black-brimmed hat decorated with silver conchos and turquoise from a peg on the wall, placing it on his head, adjusting it to make sure the tilt was just right.

Haruto snatched her scarlet-colored silk pants off the chair in the corner, pulling them on, wrapping the ties around her protruding stomach. She looked forward to this small act every morning. It helped her to measure the baby’s growth as the pant ties seemed to become shorter and shorter with each passing day. She let the white silk blouse fall over her head, sliding her arms through the draping sleeves, leaving the hem untucked so it would fit over her rounded belly.

Ready to face the world, the couple stepped out of the house. Billy closed the red-painted door behind them.

They strolled along one of the stone paths that meandered through the meditation garden filled with bonsai, cherry, apple and pear trees; lavender; wisteria; and cultivated roses.

As they walked, Billy admired the sky, taking in the view until he noticed several planes leaving iridescent trails in the sky, hatch-marking the atmosphere. He stopped walking, and cursed, “God, damnit! I thought we were done with that shit!”

Startled, Haruto glanced back at him, then followed his gaze, solemnly noting the unusual plane trails. “Was it all for nothing?” she questioned.

He scoffed, “Maybe. Maybe it was a fool’s journey to even try.”

Discouraged, she let out a deep sigh before offering Billy the only advice she could think of, “Just let it go…”

He gave her a reluctant smile.

Haruto stretched out her hand, opening Billy’s clenched fist, slipping her fingers between his, leading him through the garden toward the temple. “Everything looks wonderful,” she complimented him, hoping to brighten his mood.

“Thanks. It’s coming along.”

Billy was being modest. He had transformed the neglected garden into a thing of beauty by reinvigorating the trees, resetting the stone paths, and patching the numerous steps that had become hazardous. His favorite improvement was the addition of medicinal herbs that were planted throughout the grounds, which introduced an element of untamed wildness, and balanced the vibrational qualities of the landscape.

They moved toward the ancient temple at the forefront of the property, which faced the road at the bottom of the foothill. The building stood three-stories tall and had originally been built for Buddhist monks, who had abandoned the place due to a lack of parishioners and dwindling financial support. Its distinct gabled roof was a combination of Chinese and Japanese architectural styles, which, at one time, were used exclusively for those in power. The feudal lords had forbid farmers and commoners from copying it—one of the many tactics they had utilized to maintain their authority.

The couple stopped at the rear of the temple. Here, steps led to an expansive landing that supported a wooden pergola holding an enormous bell—seldom rung these days.

Haruto faced Billy. “See you tonight,” she said, standing on her tiptoes to give him a quick peck on the lips.

Two Mikos, who happened to be strolling along a nearby path, gave them disapproving glances.

Most of the women here had not adapted to Billy residing on the grounds, despite the passing years. Men traditionally weren’t allowed to live with Mikos. But in Billy’s case an exception had been made, allowing him to dwell in the curator’s house in exchange for his gardening and maintenance services. This exception spoke of Haruto’s status—one that had risen considerably after her participation in the Earth Sentinels’ group.

Billy ignored the other women’s disparaging looks, and tipped his hat to Haruto. “See you tonight.”

She went inside the temple, passing through the foyer and bypassing the stone staircase that led to the upper floors.

Haruto entered the common area where a few Mikos mingled with the city dwellers, who wore workout clothes and held rolled mats while they waited for the yoga class to begin in the Great Hall. A plastic banner with the words “Sign Up for Yoga Classes” hung above the fireplace mantle, but it seemed out of place in this age-old building. On a narrow table, pressed against the wall, were jars of honey for sale.

“Haruto!” a young priestess called out, gracefully moving toward her. “A priest is here. Should I send him to you?”

“Yes, please.” Haruto always enjoyed a visit from the local Geki—the male version of their sect.

But her anticipation was squashed when a young Catholic priest strolled around the corner. The Japanese man wore the traditional black robe and white collar, and held a Bible in his hand. The gold crucifix hanging from his neck was centered over his heart. His eyes glanced at Haruto’s pregnant belly. If he held any judgments, he concealed them well.

The priest bowed. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Haruto hid her displeasure at what she considered to be an intrusion, mostly because she assumed that he was here to convert her as so many others had tried before. She politely bowed. “The pleasure is mine. How may I help you?” Being polite was the Japanese, and Miko, way.

“I wish to introduce myself. I’m Father Chong from Saint Agatha Lin’s church located downtown. I’m reaching out to the community, and would like to personally invite you and the others to attend our mass on Sundays.”

“Oh…” slipped off Haruto’s tongue before she caught herself, and tactfully responded, “I’m flattered you came all this way, but you see, I’m quite content with my path.”

“I do see, and your dedication is commendable, however, sometimes people are looking for…something else.”

Haruto was offended by his implication that her path was somehow inferior to his, but she chose to overlook it, saying, “I am familiar with Catholicism. I, like the others here, have studied many different religions and beliefs. It helps us to better understand those who come to us for spiritual guidance and healing, so I’m quite sure your religion is not for me.”

“Yes, I also am familiar with the Miko tradition,” countered Father Chong who, after glancing at her bulging stomach, mentioned, “but I wasn’t aware that Mikos were allowed to marry.” His words were meant to demonstrate his knowledge of their traditions, not insult her.

Because Haruto believed the priest had inquired sincerely, she answered, “We are allowed to marry, but, if we do so, our status changes to that of priestess.”

“Oh…so you’re a priestess?”

“No, I’m not married.”

“Oh.” The priest was not sure how to respond.

Haruto was in a hurry to end the conversation. “I have an upcoming appointment that I need to prepare for. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Well, again, I welcome you, or any of the others here, to attend our mass, or visit, or call me personally if you have any questions regarding our faith.” He opened the cover to the Bible that he carried. “If you change your mind, here’s our church address…” He pointed to the first interior page, then offered her the book. “Please take this. It’s my gift to you. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to return again, and perhaps catch you at a better time.”

Haruto graciously accepted the Bible. “Thank you.”

She moved toward the entrance, encouraging him to walk beside her. As they passed by the table displaying the honey, she picked up a jar, handing it to him. “My gift to you.” This token offering allowed Haruto to feel that she had repaid Father Chong for the Bible—and thereby released her from all obligations to meet with him again.

However, her action gave the priest a very different perception. He thought perhaps she was having a change of heart, and was pleased by the parting gift. “Thank you. Honey is one of my favorite treats.”

He had touched on a topic they could both agree on.

She responded, “One of our Mikos loves taking care of the bees. And the taste is quite delicious, mostly because the pollen comes from our garden. There are roses and jasmine, cherry blossoms, lavender and honeysuckle.”

Father Chong salivated at the thought of eating the artisan honey later. “Nothing better than fine honey,” he commented. “Thank you, again, um…I don’t believe I got your name.”

“It’s Haruto.” She politely bowed.

Later that evening, dark storm clouds gathered in the sky. The wind howled through the trees, forcing the limbs to dance manically.

Haruto and Billy were having dinner inside the curator’s house. They sat at the small table next to the window whose handcrafted glass panes had been rippled by time. Candles lit the room.

She quietly chewed her food.

He wondered if she was still upset about their disagreement from earlier that morning. “Is something wrong?”

Haruto wiped her mouth. “I had a visitor today. A Catholic priest.”

A forlorn look came over Billy’s face. He set down his fork. “Really? What did he want?”

“To save me.” She stabbed at her food. “I know he meant well, but it was…umm…”

“Insulting?”

“Yes. Insulting.”

Billy sighed, then solemnly said, “The white man came and killed our people, took our land, then took our children—beating them with one hand while holding a Bible in the other, trying to make them believe in his loving God. I have no taste for their medicine.”

“But he’s Japanese.”

Billy shrugged. “Same Bible.”

A gust of wind rattled the window. The candles on the table flickered.

Outside, the mounting storm tore leaves and twigs from their branches, hurling them through the air.

A barn owl crash-landed on the windowsill. Its golden-rufous breast thumped against the glass.

Haruto gasped, startled by the bird’s sudden appearance.

Unharmed, the owl righted itself, struggling to maintain its perch as the wind ruffled its brown plumage accented with orange-tan spots. The bird of prey focused its eyes on Haruto, who felt honored. Owls were considered bearers of good luck in Japan.

However, Billy did not have the same reaction. In his Native American culture, an owl was an omen of an impending death or tragedy. He felt a strong desire to stand between his lover and the night hunter’s line of sight, even as he knew he couldn’t save her from the harbinger’s premonition.

The downpour pelted the bird as it stared at Haruto through the rain-streaked window. Its strange unrelenting gaze caused an unexpected fear to arise within her.

Lightning ripped through the turbulent sky. Thunder exploded.

The barn owl screeched, then flew away, disappearing into the ominous darkness, leaving the man and woman with a sense of dread they couldn’t quite name.

Click to read Chapter 3


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“Of Stars and Clay” New Release!

Earth Sentinels II cover

I spent the last two years researching and writing my new novel Of Stars and Clay (Science Fiction & Fantasy, Dystopian). I read Zecharia Sitchin’s seven volumes in the Earth Chronicles set, translations from Sumerian tablets and numerous books, such as those by Stewart Swerdlow and Divid Icke.

Within a few months of my research, I saw orbs in the sky (you can read more about this in my blog post). The orbs’ presence confirmed for me there is an alien/extraterrestrial presence here on earth—meaning that some of the conspiracy theories were true. But which ones? Were the elite (royalty/Rothchilds) really part reptilian? Were our governments being ruled by a secret force behind the scenes? And if they were, who or what was this secret force? And what was their agenda?

In Of Stars and Clay, I imagined how those conspiracies might play out. So, once again, the Earth Sentinel characters come together under the guidance of Bechard the fallen angel—only this time it’s to save mankind from a dark force that not only threatens our bodies, but our souls.

Of Stars and Clay ebook is on sale for only 99¢ until December 26. The first book, Earth Sentinels: The Storm Creators is also on sale.

Click to read Chapter 1

ISBN-13: 978-0990349273


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“Dreams of Heaven” receives Readers’ Favorite Award

Dreams of Heaven Cover-ebookReviewed by Romuald Dzemo for Readers’ Favorite

Dreams of Heaven by Elizabeth M. Herrera is an inspirational book that tells a brilliant and heartwarming story, while reflecting on the mysteries of life, love, faith, death, and eternity. Meet Savannah Watkins, a woman just like any other, except that she has very unusual dreams. The recurrent dreams are about the loss of her family in a car accident, so she is caught between the reality of her waking and the trauma of her sleep. As she struggles for answers, Jesus appears and offers to guide her, spending long moments with her along the beach and at the grocer’s. In this sudden yet enlivening contact with the Divine, Watkins discovers the depths of Jesus’ teachings and the answers to the pain of loss that most of us experience at some time in our life.

Reader's-Favorite-5star-Review-logo-200This is an exciting book, filled with wisdom and insight, a story that is both entertaining and inspiring. It starts in the middle of action and the pace picks up from there. It is fast and gripping and I enjoyed how the author managed to keep readers’ curiosity awake and strong through each page of the narrative. Readers will identify with Watkins, a character who is symbolic in that she represents the fears and uncertainties of most readers, living through the desert of faith until the encounter with Jesus. Elizabeth Herrera is a good writer and she has the gift of getting her message across through her storytelling craft. Dreams of Heaven will awaken a new sense of reality in the hearts of readers and the dream of what makes life worth living.


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Review for New Release “Dreams of Heaven” by Elizabeth M. Herrera

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Simply Beautiful

DOH-9780990349235-Perfect.inddDreams Of Heaven by Elizabeth Herrera is an absolutely beautiful Christian fantasy novel, that really ‘spoke’ to my heart.

The novel has Jesus at the centre. He is always with us. There is nothing in this life (or death) that we ever have to face without Him. He will always support us, carry us and love us. He is the embodiment of love.

The love just radiates from the story. The love of a mother for her family and her love for Jesus. This love extends to the reader. I felt myself awash with love and with peace.

Dreams Of Heaven is simply beautiful. It will soothe your soul. It will speak to your heart. It will fill you with hope. In its simplicity, Dreams Of Heaven penetrates your very being. I loved it.

Refresh your life and read Dreams Of Heaven today.

JULIA WILSON, Christian Bookaholic

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