Guest Post! Sara L. Hudson

In a galaxy, far, far away…

I’m pregnant. 

Not NOW. Oh sweet lord, no. I’m just setting the scene for the epiphany I had in 2015 when it was now or never to start writing.

See, I always wanted to be a novelist. Hell, even when I was young I made up stories (ahem, lies).

Mom (at the dinner table), “What did you get up to today?”

Ten-year-old Me, “I got lost in the woods and built a castle in the trees to protect my newly claimed land from neighboring invaders. It was only by following the North Star on a dangerous secret mission that I was able to find my way home.” (Actually spent the day at my friend Jessica’s house playing Barbies.)

Mom, “That’s nice, sweetie.”

My wild imagination was always dreaming something up. But after undergrad and graduate school, money needed to be made.

So I decided to become a teacher— I’d have summers off to write!

But before my first summer break, I fell in love and was whisked away to Texas. (Okay, there was no whisking. There was tedious packing, shipping my car across country and apartment hunting).

Next summer— house renovation

Summer after— wedding.

Then baby number one.

And so on and so forth... 

Cut to being six months pregnant with baby number two, surrounded by toddler toys and converting my office into a play room. It was then, amongst the chaos, that I made the decision to stop waiting for the right moment to present itself and to get off my now considerably larger ass and write. 

The hubs was all on board. He knew that though I liked teaching in the classroom, since baby number one I’d been teaching online college courses and it was BORING. I feed off interaction. My husband once called me the most social hermit he ever met. 

He really gets me. 

He also liked the idea of me writing romance novels because then we could practice all the sex scenes. 

I really get him too. 

So off I went, bound and determined to write the most badass of all historical romances!

Wait, what? Historical Romance? 

Yeah, yeah, it wasn’t the best decision. Three months into researching corsets, carriages, and Georgian England politics and I was actually glad when it was time to give birth. 

Bring on the epidural! 

Anything to stop the pain of trying to fit my, um, colorful way of writing, into the world of Regency England. 

During the next few months of no sleep, I regrouped. I thought back on all the advice I’d gotten throughout my years of learning and teaching and came back to the old standby—Write what you know.

But WTF did I know? 

And then one night, drunk in a Texas saloon (I wasn’t breast feeding, so calm down), I had yet another epiphany. 

I was out with my husband’s co-workers at a NASA happy hour. They honestly happen and happen a lot. NASA works hard and plays hard. 

NASA people love me. See, I may have gotten a reputation for being somewhat of a lush. Because when NASA people get together, they inevitably talk shop. And shop talk for NASA is a world of government bureaucracy, quantum physic calculations (not really), and acronyms. 

DEAR GOD, THE ACRONYMS! 

NASA has its own language. And when you are the only one who doesn’t speak the language around you, you drink. (Or is that just me? Just me? Cool, cool, cool.) 

On this fateful, drunken night, someone made a joke in acronym (yes, they even joke in their weird, nerdy language) and I laughed. 

Hubs, “Did you actually understand that?”

Me (slightly slurred), “Yeah, you guys are talking about CHRONUS K-BAN Unit’s coms to the EXT… holy shit!” Drink spilled down my shirt in excitement. “I speak NASA!” 

Quickly followed by celebratory “Shots! Shots! Shots!”

Turns out after eight years of drunken osmosis, I learned how to communicate like all the NASA nerds. I was like their cool, drunken sister-in-law who kept them from turning too far to the dark side. I was basically Princess fucking Leia and Baby Yoda wrapped up into one gloriously awesome bridge between the NASA nerds and the general population. 

That makes sense, right? Sure. Let’s go with that. 

Anyhoo… cut to me taking what I knew, mixing in some sordid sexytimes and boom, the original first of the series, Space Junk: Houston, We Have a Hottie, was born. 

Jackie Darling Lee is the name of my babysitter’s mother. As soon as I heard it, I wrote the opening paragraph of Space Junk and the rest was history. In that first chapter, I created a NASA EVA officer, an astronaut, a waitress and a billionaire oil heiress, destined to become best buds. 

Since then, I also wrote a short novel prequel featuring a NASA flight surgeon and a Houston firefighter, and in it you meet Jackie and Jules before the rest of their band gets together. 

Now I’m two books in, with more planned. Next in the series, out March 26th, is Space Cowgirl: Houston, All Systems Go. Julie Starr’s story. A badass female astronaut who gets shit done without apology and a gentleman billionaire rancher too polite for his own good. 

All of my books feature women, each from a different background, owning their strengths and finding love along the way. Set in the real-life world of NASA, my happily-ever-afters showcase smart women with their own goals and the men who appreciate all that they are. 

I’m an entertainer. Always have been. Whether at the family dinner, at a bar with a drink in my hand or in front of a classroom of young, impressionable minds (dear lord, who ever let me be a teacher?). 

And that’s what my books are-- entertaining. 

Yeah, you learn shit long the way, but for a brief moment of time, the chaos of life fades away, an easy smile rests upon your face, and if your husband is lucky, your lady parts pipe up and say hello. 

So strap in, and get ready for lift-off into steamy, funny romance. 

Laters girlies, xxx Sara

Space Cowgirl: All Systems Go

NASA astronaut Julie Starr knows nothing is earned without blood, sweat, and frizzy hair. Recently returned from orbit, Jules is on her way to becoming the youngest Flight Commander ever. So she isn't about to let a creepy stalker derail her goals.

Or a chivalrous, wealthy rancher either, for that matter.

Holt West doesn't mess with flirts. And that's exactly what Jules is.

He has enough on his plate, working the ranch he inherited from his grandfather while making sure his siblings follow their dreams. He doesn't need to be distracted from his responsibilities by the smart-mouthed, long-legged astronaut clad in leather pants and biker boots.

But when Holt's brother and Jules' best friend decide to get married, they're thrown together as best man and maid of honor. Jules takes the opportunity to hide out from her stalker at the West Ranch under the guise of planning the barnyard wedding of a lifetime. She might not know the difference between tulle and toile, but she’s an astronaut for god's sake. How hard could it be?

Between Jules vying for a record-breaking promotion while outmaneuvering a stalker and Holt fighting a losing battle with his heart, can the two of them get it together long enough to say yes to the ride of their lives?

Or is this mission a no-go?

Check it out HERE!