“Tammy, I can’t believe you did all this. Bless your little pea-pickin’ heart.” Savannah gave her assistant a hug as she surveyed her “child-proof” guest bedroom, stripped to the bare minimum in anticipation of the arrival of the twins from Hades. “You put away the china knickknacks,” she said, “and my porcelain doll and the antique satin pillows.” “And your nasty books that were stashed under the nightstand,” Tammy added with a smug grin. “You mean, my ladies’ erotica?” “That’s what I said—your smut.” Savannah put on an indignant face and crossed her arms over her abundant chest. “I’ll have you know, Miss Tammy Smartie Pants Hart, that some of that is considered classic literature.” “Aw, pooh. It’s unadulterated filth, and you know it. You should be ashamed of yourself, having that stuff in your house.” “So, let me guess: You’ve stashed it in your tote bag, and you’re taking it home with you tonight?” Tammy shrugged, then nodded.
