Wise Investment – The Auction Series Read Online M.K. Moore

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Insta-Love, Romance, Virgin Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 7
Estimated words: 6249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 31(@200wpm)___ 25(@250wpm)___ 21(@300wpm)
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Read Online Books/Novels:

Wise Investment - The Auction Series

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

M.K. Moore

Language:
English
Book Information:

Christina “Teeny” Martin
I never thought I would find myself here, doing this, but here I am. Selling myself to the highest bidder. I’m doing it because I must. My baby sister needs more than I can provide on my waitress salary, but I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her in my care. The last year has been the worst of my life; something has to go right; it just has to.
Graeme MacTavish, Duke of Sutherland
I followed the frazzled girl into the non-descript building off the streets, wondering where she was going in such a hurry. When I realized what this was, I almost left, but then she sold herself, and I had to have her. She’s the wisest investment I’ve ever made.
Step inside the world of The Auction Series, where the highest bidder wins. It’s not goods and services on stage to be bought and sold, but people who have put their bodies in the spotlight. When the hammer comes down and the amount is paid, will love be the real currency?
Books by Author:

M.K. Moore



ONE

GRAEME

I’ve come into Edinburgh on business. The thirty-five-minute flight on my private jet was fast and my business was concluded fairly quickly. Three months ago, I inherited the dukedom that has been my family for generations. I was not prepared to be the tenth Duke of Sutherland. My father was young, barely fifty, when the aggressive cancer took him. He didn’t even know he had it, or if he did, he didn’t tell me. My parents divorced when I was seven, and mum remarried within the year. Dad rarely left Aebarrow Keep, our home in Sutherland. Whereas I couldn’t wait to get out of there. I went to prep school and Eton before Cambridge. If I had known there wouldn’t be enough time with my father, I would have done things differently. But I can’t change the past, and all I can do is move forward. So, I’ve made my way to Edinburgh to sign the last of the paperwork that officially makes me the duke. Suddenly I’m responsible for tenants, farmland, and much more than I was ready for at just twenty-four.

My driver, Duncan, is waiting outside of my new solicitor’s office. I get into the car and pull my laptop out of my briefcase. As we head back toward the airport, I try to get some work done because in addition to being the duke, I own a lucrative shipping business, MacTavish Freight. Going East on Logan Square, I look up from my computer as Duncan pulls to a stop at red light, and out the window of the rented sedan. I can’t help noticing the beautiful lass with wild blonde hair running down the street. Nothing would be weird about this except she’s not dressed for exercise. She’s wearing a short black dress and bright blue high heels. She appears to be late for something, but I can’t help staring after her.

“Stop the car, Duncan,” I say just as he takes off again. He pulls over to the curb and climb out. “Wait here,” I say before closing the door.

I watch as my mystery lass runs into a dirty alleyway and knocks on the door of a non-descript building. My curiosity gets the better of me and I continue to follow her. The door opens and she goes inside. I wait a few seconds before knocking on the door.

“Sir? You are at the wrong entrance. Patrons should go around the front for entry.”

“Ah. Thank you,” I say, backing away from the door. I walk through the alley way, over garbage and other discarded items, around to the front of the building and walk in that door. It’s dark inside, but not unpleasant. It smells like leather and whiskey and immediately I wonder where I am.

“Welcome to Hetaira Auction House. Is this your first time with us, Sir?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Ah, you are in for a rare treat, Mr…?” The scantily clad hostess trails off waiting for me to answer.

“MacTavish.”

“Ah. Your Grace, forgive me, I should have recognized you.”

“No worries, really.”

“Well, right this way. I have a private viewing room available for you.”

“Excellent,” I say following her.

“Can I get you anything? A drink, cigar?”

“No, thank you,” I say, sitting down in a large leather wingback chair.

“Very good. The auction starts in ten minutes. Feel free to peruse the catalog on the tablet in front of you. Happy procurement,” she says before leaving and closing the door behind her.


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