Time With Norma Jeane: Time Travel Novel by Elyse Douglas


Publisher:  Broadback (January 13, 2020)
Category: Time Travel, Historical Fiction, Time Slip, Women’s Fiction
Tour Dates March and April, 2020
ISBN: 978-1671646032
Available in Print and ebook, 258 pages

Description Time With Norma Jeane: Time Travel Novel by Elyse Douglas

A young woman is hurled back to 1954 to spend a week with Marilyn Monroe.  Together, they embark on their own personal journeys — one a coming-of-age — the other, Marilyn’s journey, a struggle to reconcile with her past and perhaps change the future.

Praise Time With Norma Jeane: Time Travel Novel by Elyse Douglas

“A delightful and enthralling read! Elyse Douglas captured magic and put it on the page.”—Ambling Bookworm Reviews

“This is just an astonishing read that will have you hooked on page one and won’t let go till the last. I read it all in one sitting and could not put it down.”—Donadee’s Corner Reviews

Praise Lost Mata Hari Ring: A Time Travel Novel by Elyse Douglas

“I am amazed by the research done into her characters, especially since with this book it is a known woman from the past – Mata Hari. From the moment Trace falls back in time, the descriptions of people and towns created a vision in my mind and I could imagine myself there observing the situations. This book captivated me to the end! If you like books that delve into past lives along with time travel, this is a book you should pick up and read!”-Storeybook Reviews

“I must say that the authors did a fantastic job in writing this book. I do not believe that time travel is possible nor do I believe in reincarnation. But while I was reading this book, I believed it was all possible. Part of me envied Trace Rutland for what she experienced, for the things she got to see. What an exciting thing! Well, except for the being thrown in prison part.  Once I was about halfway through the book, putting it down for any length of time proved to be impossible.”- Lisa’s Writopia

“This book has it all mystery, romance , history.  I really enjoyed it as I didn’t really know that much about Mata Hari.  I like historical fiction and this book was filled with history.  I am not a believer in past lives but I found myself being drawn into the story and holding my breath to see what would happen next.  A very well done story.  I would recommend it if you like historical fiction.”-Mindy, A Room Without Books Is Empty 

Excerpt Time With Norma Jeane: Time Travel Novel by Elyse Douglas

I tumbled.  At the base of the hill, I crashed to a stop, blunted and dizzy.  As I was catching my breath, the sharp, piercing glow of car headlights stabbed my eyes, coming straight for me.  I gasped, glancing about, seeking escape.  I was lying on the narrow shoulder of a two-lane road.  Where did that come from?  The glaring headlights grew large, approaching fast.

Straining, I struggled to my feet, but a knifing pain seized my left ankle and dropped me hard to the ground.  I grabbed at it, pain grinding into me.  The headlights were close.  Frantic, I raised my arm, hand waving madly, hoping the driver would see me.  With my other hand, I clawed and dug at the ground, trying to get away.

The car closed in.  I shaded my eyes from the blinding headlights as it whizzed by, missing me by two or three feet.  I heard the brakes squealing, the tires skidding, seeking traction on the snow-covered surface, the car finally coming to rest at an angle in the middle of the road.  If another car had been behind it, they would have collided.  If a car raced by now, it would broadside the angled car.

I sat panting, cold and in pain, waiting.  Sonny was nowhere around, and I’d lost my camera when I’d fallen down the hill.

A car door opened.  Snow was boiling around me, little flakes flitting across the headlights, looking like insects.

Someone approached, footsteps crunching the snow.  I looked up into a young woman’s concerned face.  She wore a royal blue jacket with a fuzzy collar, and a red cap with ear flaps; one turned up and one down.  It was a pretty face, with big, startled eyes, glowing skin and a soft mouth, with no lipstick.

“Are you all right, honey?” she asked, in a concerned voice.

I blinked up at the woman, focusing.  A few wisps of blonde hair were visible under the turned-up ear flap.

I stared in dazed wonder at the woman, feeling a swelling knot of unease as I examined her face.  She was beautiful and entrancing; her voice familiar.  Even in my battered, confused state, I knew who this woman was.  I’d seen her countless times in photographs and movies.

For a few startled and impossible seconds, I thought I’d been knocked silly.  Surely, I was hallucinating or dreaming; some mad dream that comes with a fever.  I recalled Eddie and what he’d said about the date and year—that it was December 1954—but I refused to take it in.  I was too spacy and lost, and my ankle throbbed.  That was real if nothing else was.  Pain is real.

The woman stooped toward me.  “Honey, what are you doing out here on a night like this?  Can I help you?”

 “I’m so cold,” I said.  “I hurt my foot… my ankle.”

She reached for my hand.  “Take my hand.  I’ll help you up.”

I took her gloved hand, and with the help of her firm grasp, I managed to stand, favoring my left foot.

The woman glanced around.  “Are you alone?”

I nodded, again searching the woman’s face, confirming again her unmistakable identity.  My grip on reality seemed to have slipped away.  And then I remembered Sonny, and I turned, searching the night.

“My dog ran away.  I have to find him.”

“Honey, we have to get you inside.  You’re freezing, and you’ve probably sprained your ankle.”

“But I can’t leave Sonny out here.  He’ll freeze to death.”

“I’ll take you to the house and you can call your family from there.  Someone will search for him and then come by and pick you up.”

She supported me as we started for the car.  That’s when I caught a glimpse of the rear license plate.  It was illuminated by the taillights:  bold black letters on a silver background.  A8081N.  Beneath that was a red square, 54, and CONN.

I was teetering on the edge of reality.  What reality, I wasn’t sure.  My world, my Earth, had suddenly gone spinning off its axis, and I was hanging on for dear life.

It was a sleek, black sports car, with two seats and a red and cream interior.  She helped me ease down into the passenger seat, closing the door gently.  Feeling the warm breath of heat, I leaned back and shut my eyes, exhausted.

I heard the woman slide in behind the wheel, close her door and drop the car into gear.  The car lurched ahead and gathered speed—a lot of speed.  Why was she driving so fast on this snowy road?

I had to have confirmation.  I had to know, once and for all, where I was.  I had to know who this woman was.  I had to know if Eddie was right.  Was it 1954?  Had I flipped out?  Had I slipped back in time?

I opened my eyes and summoned courage.  Calmly, I said, “You’re Marilyn Monroe, aren’t you?”

She threw her head back and laughed.  It was a girlish laugh, just like I’d heard in the movie Some Like It Hot, one of my favorite Marilyn movies.

“Oh, honey, not tonight I’m not.  I won’t be Marilyn Monroe again until after the New Year.  For now, just call me Norma Jeane.”

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