By Renee Carter
It began at a chain restaurant. I was meeting with my writers’ group, munching on a salad when suddenly a woman approached.
“That’s me,” she proclaimed, tapping the front cover of the YA novel near my elbow on the table.
I looked at the image of a Latina, teenaged girl on the book cover and turned to the woman. She must have noticed my skepticism because she promptly turned the novel over.
“I’m Elizabeth Briggs,” she smiled. “Do you like my book?” Continue reading