“It’s not even really a bra, Mom,” Georgia groaned. “It’s more of a fashion statement. I mean, when you’re the president of the Itty-Bitty Titty Committee, you don’t need the support. But a little black lace can add a little something-something to a white tank top, you know?” “What’s a titty?” Gracie tipped her head back to look at Hugh, and Cage hissed something under his breath. “Ah, fabulous question. What is a titty, Georgia?” Hugh asked, with a wicked grin on his face. “Can we please not say titty around my daughter?” Cage grumped. “Why? More than half of the people at this table have
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