Tierra, Where men are men, women are women, and the two never, ever mingle — until Earthling Tory shakes things up.
The Deviants: “I wish men lived on another planet!” Tory wasn’t thinking when she blurted out those words to a strange woman at a bar. Now she’s in Femmeland, a planet where all the inhabitants are female and where heterosexuals are considered deviants. Tory wouldn’t mind indulging in a little deviancy if she could just find herself a male of the same mind…
Changing the Odds: Dag’s made some powerful enemies in Androvia. He’s determined to keep his incredibly sexy body to himself. You can’t do that too often in Androvia, or you end up battered and left for dead in Femmeland. Right now, Femmeland doesn’t sound as bad as going home, especially since he’s met Rhoanna.
World Enough: Treason is the worst crime known to either Femmeland or Androvia, and both countries think Faye Blaise has committed that crime. Edmond Jarvish relishes a good challenge. No other solicitor will defend Faye. He prays he’s as good as his reputation because the punishment for treason is death.
Welcome to the hilarious and erotic world of The Deviants.
Copyright ©2021 Treva Harte
Excerpt from The Deviants
“Cheryl, I swear I’d be really happy if men were just swept up and sent to another planet.” Tory stared down at her glass of beer. Two other women at the bar overheard her and giggled. Tory lowered her voice. “I mean, this is the final humiliation. Can you believe that Jeff was lying to me? Jeff!”
“Well, we always said he was too good to be true.” Cheryl signaled the waitress for another tonic water.
“Yeah, but I didn’t mean it that way. I believed he was in love with me and that he was going to get around to asking me to marry him in a few weeks or so and… Stop laughing, Cheryl.” Tory put her chin in her hands. “I really did. Then I find out he’s been hot for some little clerk in his own office the entire time. He used me! He used me to make her jealous.”
“I don’t hear you saying you’re brokenhearted about the whole thing, though.” Cheryl didn’t sound too concerned. Of course, they’d known each other a long time.
“Well, I ought to be.”
“Jeff may be the last heterosexual single male on the planet who seriously wanted me. I mean, who I thought seriously wanted me. I was working up an interest in him.” Tory tried not to sound defensive.
“Oh yeah. I could tell.”
“Don’t strain yourself.” Cheryl looked at her knowingly.
Tory began to laugh. “I do love you, Cheryl. It’s too bad I can’t change my sexual preference. You’d be a great partner. You’ve got it all — you’re good-looking, you and I can talk together about anything…”
Her best friend grinned. “I’m six months’ pregnant with my husband’s child,” Cheryl reminded her. “My hormones may be out of whack, but this really wouldn’t be the time to adopt an alternative lifestyle.”
The two of them laughed. Cheryl patted Victoria on the shoulder. “You’re gorgeous. I’d kill to have that strawberry-blonde hair of yours. You’re smart, you’re funny, and you’re great to be around. Don’t worry. You’ll meet the perfect guy for you.”
Tory smiled but wondered how often Cheryl had repeated that mantra to her over the years. They used to say things like that to each other when they were single and temporarily manless. But Cheryl had made it happen for herself years ago. Tory was twenty-eight and figured things were definitely not going according to plan.
“Listen, I already kept you and the baby up late enough. Why don’t we call it a night?” Tory put some money on the bar for a tip and Cheryl carefully got down from the barstool.
“My back is killing me, I must admit.” Cheryl rubbed it as they walked to the door.
They got to the little parking lot outside and Cheryl carefully eased into her Camry. Tory sighed. Cheryl even had a married woman’s car. She waved to her friend as she left the parking lot and then took her car keys and walked over to her Cabrio.
Tory looked at the car. She’d bought the Cabrio to make a statement. It stated she was single. Single women bought cute little convertible cars. Was that the right statement to make? She didn’t know anymore. It didn’t seem to be getting her much in the way of action.
The two giggling women from the bar walked out into the parking lot behind her. Victoria put her key in the door lock and decided there was something wrong in the world when all these women couldn’t find dates for a Friday night.
“And we’re not the ones that are wrong. It’s men.” Tory hastily looked around, hoping no one had heard her talking to herself. Oh oh. The two women were looking at her now.
One of the pair walked over to her and smiled, hesitantly.
“I’m sorry.” The woman spoke English perfectly — maybe just a little too perfectly. She didn’t sound American. “We seem to be lost. Could you point us in the right direction on our map?”
The other woman held up her map, looking confused.
They were nice-looking women. She’d noticed them at the bar the minute they sat next to Cheryl. One was tall and blonde, the other petite and brown-haired. Tory decided to feel sorry for them as well. After all, they were as alone as she was on a date night. Any man ought to want them, she thought with a glower. In fact, he ought to want all three of them.
Her eyes narrowed. Or at least there should be one man for each woman.
Yeah. That was it.
“Sure, I can probably help.” Tory walked toward them. “Where do you need to go?”
She felt a sharp prick in her arm and looked down. Was that a needle? Before she could figure it out, she saw nothing but blackness and could feel herself pitching forward…
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Treva Harte has always been an overachiever. She also collects things. First it was degrees. First a B.A. in English, then she decided to go back for a Master’s degree. Not content with that, she added a J.D. Since then she’s added a husband, also an attorney, and two children to her collection. She’s continuing her ways as an overachiever, writing her wonderfully offbeat tales of passion and possibilities — in her spare time.