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Informationen zum Autor MaryJanice Davidson is the New York Times bestselling author of several books, including the Undead novels featuring Vampire Queen Betsy Taylor. With her husband, Anthony Alongi, she also writes a series featuring a teen weredragon named Jennifer Scales. MaryJanice lives in Minneapolis with her husband and two children and is currently working on her next book. Anthony Alongi is a fantastically good-looking, talented writer who doesn’t deserve his fantastically good-looking wife, the gifted writer MaryJanice Davidson. He spends far too much time playing games on the computer and doesn’t appreciate his wife, although he makes a mean bacon dinner and stumbled his way through Carleton College and Harvard University. He is a contract writer for Hasbro, Inc. His interests include annoying his wife, chasing his children around the house, and writing his wife’s bio. Klappentext Half weredragon. Half beaststalker. All heart. View our feature on MaryJanice Davidson and Anthony Alongi's Seraph of Sorrow. Slowly coming into her own! Jennifer Scales just may be the bridge to bring the two warring sides of her family together-provided she can survive learning the most ancient skills of dragonkind. 'Honey, I'm home!' Jonathan landed on the porch of their small town home and edged the door open with a wing claw. The porch opened up on the living room, which doubled as a dining room. He could see Elizabeth in the small kitchen. 'Crap!' She moved toward the smoking oven, furiously twisting dials. 'Crap!' He slid the door shut behind him, closing out Eveningstar's February chill. 'Dad said you called the cabin. What's up?' She finally noticed him, but instead of smiling she rolled her eyes. 'It figures. Great timing. I was trying to— ' The smell of burning sugar wrinkled his scaled snout. 'Why are you in the kitchen?' 'Hilarious. I was trying to...I was trying to...' She stomped her foot. 'Dammit, never mind what's in the oven; look on the counter!' She pointed at the kitchen counter with one hand and hid her face with the other. He circled around the couch and approached the kitchen. There was only one item on the meticulously kept counter. It was white and about the size of a finger, and... 'Oh.' She still wasn't looking at him. 'I thought I'd bake fudge to celebrate.' 'You know I'm allergic to chocolate.' 'Well, you're not the one who's pregnant.' She reached up and flipped the fan on, drowning out the rest of her muttering. He stared at the small, white pregnancy test. 'This was quick.' His wing claw fluttered back and forth between the two of them. 'I mean, we've only been married— ' 'Long enough. I warned you this could happen.' He felt a thrill of irritation down his tailbones. 'To be fair, I've known all about sex and babies since the third grade.' 'Don't sass me, Scales. Your constant climbing on top of me was bound to screw things up eventually. If you could have found something else to do— say, work, or eat, or breathe— for even a small portion of that time, we might not be facing this.' Her fear softened him. 'Honey, it's okay. I know we've got lots of bills. All we— ' 'I don't mean money! I mean, we wouldn't be facing what we're going to face when...when...' She gestured at her abdomen, and Jonathan was surprised at how easy it was to imagine a new life within. 'When she arrives.' 'She? How do you know— ' 'I know my body. We all do. It's part of the discipline.' 'Would that be the same discipline you're showing in blaming me for your pregnancy?' 'That's it. No fudge for you.' 'Again, I'd like to remind you...' He trailed off, because she was crying. 'Honey, I'm having trouble tracking you here.' 'She's going to be a target!' Elizabeth's emerald eyes were wide with dread. 'As soon as people learn she's the child ...
