About the book
Bellavere at Midnight
ONE HUNDRED YEARS At Bellavere Dublin, even the flowers had been instructed to look inherited. Maeve DeLuca knew because she had watched three men in dinner jackets and one terrified florist argue over a tower of white roses blocking half the eighteenth-century archway that led from the ballroom to the east service corridor. The florist kept saying, “Mr. Bellavere approved the concept.”
This title is part of Bellavere Dynasty, Book 1.