Ellie is a five-foot-three realtor who also has a volunteer schedule that would scare the hardest soldier. Mike is a six-foot-three investment planner, ten years older than she is, who works eight to five and wants nothing more than six kids and a wife who is home more than one night a week. Add in the fact they are getting married very soon and building a brand-new house. Life couldn’t be busier.

Ellie has no desire to quit her job or have children, at least right now. Maybe in the future. Mike is more frustrated by her schedule and her lack of care for herself. He has a little wooden paddle that can help him persuade her. Unfortunately, she seems to agree she needs it but just keeps doing what she’s planned. What’s the key to working this out?

This is book one in A Clearwater Romance series and can be enjoyed independently.

Publisher’s Note: This sweet and clean romance contains elements of power exchange and is intended for adults only.

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“Ow! Ow! Not there.” She tried to twist away from that nasty spoon, but it didn’t seem to work very well. “Mike, please!”

“Please spank me till my butt is nice and red? Okay, baby, whatever you want.”

“No, I didn’t say that, no more!”

“I’ll decide when you’ve had enough. Now, who do you belong to?”

“You!” she screeched as her legs started kicking. If she kicked them high enough maybe she could cover her bottom. Or knock the spoon out of his hand. And she couldn’t help it, it hurt!

“Try again,” he told her and smacked her harder as she shrieked.

“You, Sir!” she sobbed out.

“That’s right, now let’s hear it again.” He never let up and she could barely breathe through the tears.

“I belong to you, Sir,” she managed.

“That’s right, and for how long?”

How could he be so calm with her squalling and kicking and trying to get out of his way and far away from that spoon? It was a mystery she could never comprehend.

“Forever! No matter what!” she finally choked out.

“Darn right.” He stood her up and she cried in relief as she frantically rubbed her bottom and then rushed to his arms.

“Mine,” he whispered.

She tried not to wonder whom he was trying to convince as she snuggled closer to him.

“Yours. Take me to bed, please,” she asked, wiping her nose on his shirt. Served him right.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said as he scooped her in his arms. “Shame to waste that good bottom heat.”