Elvis Presley - Long Live The King

On a hot August afternoon in 1977, almost forty-four years ago, I was riding in the backseat on a family vacation that had taken our merry band down in Oklahoma. We’d gone to Woolaroc, the great salt flats, and much more. I remember it was sunny, the sky filled with a few white, puffy clouds. We weren’t listening to the radio but to the CB at the height of the CB craze.

And the chatter started talking about Elvis and that he had died.

My mom had my dad switch over to radio and an Elvis song was playing on every station. In a short time, we learned it was true.

Years later, my husband and I took our kids to Graceland. We wrote on the gate as tourists do, stayed across the street in an Elvis themed hotel with a guitar shaped swimming pool and 24/67 Elvis movies.

Despite all the hype, I’ll admit I like Elvis. The man could sing like no other. Since I’m also a major fan of Johnny Horton and thus the Louisiana Hayride, I am fond of Elvis’ early years on the same program.

My late Aunt Janet was a major Elvis fan – she loved that man so much.

So a few years ago, thinking about Elvis, I wrote a little novella that gave the King a second chance at life – too bad fiction can’t be fact.

Elvis, the uncrowned king of rock and roll is still known and still loved by many decades after his death in 1977.  But what if things had been different?
That’s the story in my novella Long Live The King – thanks to a little unexpected time travel, a Delta beauty, and a young Elvis, his life changed for the better – what better month to indulge in an Elvis fantasy romance!

Here’s the blurb, a link, and an excerpt:

Lacie Logan is just another Delta raised beauty until her attempts at a movie career fail and leave her working as a professional escort in Las Vegas. She doesn’t like it, but what's a girl to do? Then, during an unexpected thunderstorm, she walks into a coffee shop and is suddenly back in April 1956. When she meets Elvis Presley, she’s sure she must be dreaming but when their chance encounter becomes a full-blown romance, she realizes that she has the chance to both win the King of Rock and Roll’s heart and change history.

https://www.amazon.com/Long-Live-King-Sontheimer-Murphy-ebook/dp/B00819O5GC

 

 

She did not remember the place, but it must have been here before, with its’ red vinyl booths, Formica topped counter with eight stools, and waitresses with bouffant hair backcombed high. They wore nylon pale green uniform dresses with white aprons tired around their waist into a bow. Each had a small white, crown style hat perched on their heads. This place looked authentic, she thought, dripping just inside the door. Vegas did retro well.

Because of the heavy rain, the place was all but empty. Two lone men sat at opposite ends of the counter. One stirred coffee in a thick white china cup on a saucer decorated with a dark green ring. The other picked at a piece of pie.

Behind her, the door opened with a rush and rain sprayed in, enough she jumped forward with an exclamation. She tottered on her heels and almost fell over.

“Oh!” she cried just as a pair of strong hands caught her and put her upright.

“I am sorry, ma’am.” The voice sounded familiar, a deep voice touched with the richness of the South, dark and sweet as chocolate. “Are you all right?”

She was soaked, had a couple of dollars in her purse, and was miles from the cheap motel, she called home, but she tried to smile.

“Oh, I’m o-“

Lacie’s voice stuck in her throat like a bite of peanut butter sandwich as she turned because the hands staying her fall belonged to Elvis Presley, a young Elvis. She looked into his familiar face, stared into his blue eyes, and gazed up at his combed back light brown hair. There was no doubt – it was Elvis Presley.

Her body shook; she could not control it and she trembled, chills taking over. He was young, the King, alive, and in person, he was far more handsome than any photograph or album shot portrayed. Those full lips looked as ripe and sweet as plump strawberries and his face, almost but not quite heart shaped, combined a sensual wickedness with innocence that summoned up the familiar look of a boy from back home. He was taller than she was, by a fair bit, and dressed in simple jeans, a jacket, and a button-down cloth shirt. However, this could not be real; it was impossible. Elvis got old, grew fat, and died too young more than thirty years ago. Maybe she hit her head out in the nasty weather or maybe this was a dream. Gosh, she thought, with growing horror, what if she died, hit by a car or struck by lightning. Something went askew, somewhere, because what she saw had to be fantasy.

“Hey, now, take it easy,” Elvis said, putting one arm around her waist. “Everything is all right. Come on, sit down, I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”