Book Blurb:
Incredible Dreams is the story of a modern-day ghost whisperer who travels through time to save the life of a WWII fighter pilot and ends up jeopardizing her own existence.
Izzy Miller prefers to call herself a spiritual therapist because she thinks it makes her sound more professional than plain old ghost-whisperer. She expects her latest project to be quick and easy because exorcising military personnel is pretty routine.
But there's nothing easy or routine about Captain Jack Baker—he's a rather forgetful spirit and somewhat mischievous. And even though he's intrigued by the US Government's latest attempt to remove him from the only place he can ever remember being...he has no intentions of going anywhere.
Plans to exorcise Jack are quickly sidelined when Izzy discovers a portal into the past inside her dreams and sets out to change his fate. Trouble is...when she gets back there, she can't remember anything but her name. She still sees ghosts, but is far less accepting of her gift. And, to make matters worse, a demonic force pretending to be the forgetful heroine's sister has her own plans—to steal Izzy's soul.
Buy Links:
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/21665
Author Bio:
Sandra is an award-winning author with eclectic tastes. She writes in a variety of genres such as paranormal (mostly time travel and reincarnation), contemporary, and suspense. Her books often push the envelope and step outside the boundaries of conventional romance. She lives in the U.S. (west coast) with her husband, two kids, four dogs and one very temperamental feline.
Incredible Dreams Excerpt:
Jack wasn’t accustomed to going to the Rialto by himself. But these days he didn’t feel like company. The last thing he needed or wanted was to have to entertain someone.
He’d stopped in on a whim, after seeing the billboard out front. “Since You Went Away”. Although it wasn’t something he’d normally choose to see, it reached out and grabbed hold of him. Probably because he thought it was something that would appeal to Isabelle.
He parked the car and strolled up to the window. “One please,” he said, sliding the money toward the cashier. She grinned, chomping on gum, and passed a single ticket to him.
He nodded graciously, took the ticket and strolled inside the theatre, taking a seat near the back.
Not long into the movie he found himself making strange and odd comparisons between the movie and his own life. To be so different, they sure were a lot alike. He let his attention travel away from the screen, not liking his indiscretion, however innocent, smacking him in the face. Too bad he couldn’t be as discerning as Joseph Cotton and contain his feelings.
Mulling over the crowd, he saw Jeannie and George a few rows up and it annoyed him until he realized where there was Jeannie one might also find Isabelle. He scanned the theatre, delighted when he saw her sitting alone on the other side of the auditorium.
He wanted to go sit with her, but decided against it. For now, it was enough just to see her and know she was okay.
All through the movie, his thoughts and attention kept wandering back to her. When the final credits rolled, he didn’t have the slightest clue how the movie had ended. How did Anne fare after her husband came home and she no longer had the luxury of turning to Tony?
He shrugged it off, thinking the movie probably ended the same way this segment of his life would...with Isabelle’s husband coming home and taking up residence as the man of the house. The thought sickened him.
He stayed in his seat while the other movie-goers shuffled out of the theater. When the auditorium was empty he got up and left.
Pausing in the lobby, he peered outside and saw Isabelle standing alone. He was tempted to go outside and say hello, but seeing that vulture Jeannie approaching Isabelle stopped him just inside the entrance.
Safe and out of sight inside the theater’s lobby, he looked on at the vivid conversation ensuing. Each sister said her piece until, finally, Jeannie left with George. Isabelle strolled in the other direction until she wound up at the bus stop a few feet away.
Jack pushed the door open and stepped outside, glancing in the direction Jeannie and George had gone. Seeing them disappear around the corner, he grinned and crept toward Isabelle like a great cat sneaking up on its prey.
He stopped a few feet away from her. “Enjoy the movie?”
She jumped and whirled around, startled. Her face softened with a smile when her eyes met his. “Hi.” She glanced away shyly. “The movie was entertaining at times, but grew rather dark, I thought.”
Funny. Such an oddly accurate account of a really long film that felt a little too close to home.
“Didn’t care much for it, huh?” Feeling awkward, he slid his hands inside his pockets.
Fumbling with her purse, she managed to shrug and say apathetically, “I guess the thing that constitutes a happy ending is different for different people.”
That was one way of putting it. She did have a point. But he didn’t see how they, him and Isabelle, could have a happy ending. If her husband came home in a box, she’d never forgive herself. If he came home alive, he would live the life that Jack wanted. Either way was a no-win situation for Jack and Isabelle.
“You taking the bus home?” He acknowledged the sign looming above them.
“Yes.” She looked away, as if purposefully avoiding him. But the embarrassment tainting her cheeks crimson could not evade him, even underneath the burnished glow of the streetlamp. “Jeannie’s got herself a date.”
“And she left you here to fend for yourself?” He glanced at the bus heading toward them. “Why don’t you let me give you a ride?” he asked quickly, over the spent suffering of his lawless heart.
The bus pulled up to the curb and the door opened. Isabelle’s fingers, tapered and long, fastened her hand around the bus’s railing. She placed one foot on the bottom step and glanced over her shoulder. “Thanks.” A smile spread across her face, one of those friendly, off-limits kind of smiles that kicked a man in his gut and deflated his ego. “But that’s not necessary.”
“It’s really no trouble, see,” he said, worrying that he might sound too eager.
She climbed to the top step and looked back again. “Thanks, Jack, but I really need to stop depending on you.” She didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, she ventured on inside the bus.
He liked her stockings, the way the line ran up the back of her legs. A wild whim pushed him to follow her onto the bus. Halfway down the aisle he dropped into the seat behind her.
“What are you doing?” Her tone, cool and disapproving, did not discourage Jack.
“Seeing you home.” He sank back into the seat and folded his arms over his chest.
“Suit yourself,” she said, inching toward the window. “What are you going to do?” She crooked her head to look at him. “Ride the bus back to your car?”
Jack ignored her. He had too. Otherwise, he might burst out laughing. Instead, he winked and looked her over seductively. The way her breasts filled out the red and white polka dot dress showered him with thoughts he shouldn’t be thinking. He wanted to kiss her, all over, and that left his heart aching. Her legs vied for his attention, dragging his thoughts away from his heartache.
A subtle moan rose in his throat and he choked it back, shifting in his seat. “Where’d you get that dress, Isabelle?”
She glanced down and then raised her eyes slowly back to him. A baffling, insignificant frown crossed her face. “I haven’t a clue.” Discomfort stained her cheeks red.
Jack offered her a wink and an easy smile, hoping to disarm her bewilderment. Her left hand, the bareness of her ring finger glared like a naked desert. “Isabelle, do you have a wedding ring?”
She glanced at her hand and gave a dismissive gesture. “I don’t know.” Her features settled into a frown. “Does that make me a bad person?”
The question hammered at his heavy heart. “Why...because you don’t know whether or not you have a wedding ring?” His tone was testy, yet tolerant.
“No.” She tilted her head with a cool stare in his direction. “Because I don’t care if I have one or not.”
“Isabelle, it’s not your fault that you don’t remember,” he said, hoping to soothe and calm her doubt.
The bus slowed to a stop across the street from the boarding house.
She pushed herself into a standing position. “Well, looks like this is my stop.” She smiled, all friendly-like, and moved into the aisle.
“It was nice seeing you again, Isabelle.” The gentleman in him stood and waited until she’d exited the bus.
Jack sat back down and the driver checked him in the mirror. “This is my last run,” he said. “Where you headed, pal?”
“Back to the Rialto.” Jack glanced out the window and watched Isabelle hurry up the walkway and disappear inside the house.
He found the missing symbol of marriage intriguing, if not suspicious. While he didn’t understand but easily accepted the amnesia and the peculiar things she sometimes said, he didn’t get why she wasn’t wearing a ring.
Knowing her as he did, he found it odd that she wouldn’t have one—or wear it if she did. If she were his wife, Jack would make sure she had the biggest rock he could afford so everybody would know she was married. Even so, Isabelle was not the kind of girl who married a guy who couldn’t or wouldn’t provide her with a ring.
Her husband, who just so happened to be overseas, aroused Jack’s curiosity. Never mind Isabelle’s criteria when it came to marriage; what kind of guy didn’t put a wedding ring on a girl like her?
Jack could be jumping the gun, but he didn’t think so. Aside from the fact that there seemed to be too many loose ends, there was something off about this conveniently absent flyer.
And Jack intended to find out what that was. 
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