Anna and the French Kiss was beautiful. Whenever I read a romance book, I approach it with a sort of wariness and caution. Reading the first few pages and chapters is like dipping your feet into the water to see if it's cold. With Anna, there was no doubt about whether I wanted to jump in. I have no tolerance for an uninteresting protagonist, and in a romance novel it's especially important that the characters are people that you can love, relate to, or even hate. Stephanie Perkins definitely filled that requirement. I wouldn't mind having Anna as a friend and Etienne...oh my goodness, Etienne. Adorable and kind and intelligent and perfect. I wore a smile on my face all through this book. And it's in Paris. Paris! The setting was just the icing on an already delicious delicious cake. The descriptions and atmosphere was absolutely magical. 
 I happen to be rereading this book on Valentine's Day. Others might suspect that I would get sad about being single and reading a book about a romantic couple set in one of the most romantic cities in the world, but that was so far from what I felt. Anna and the French Kiss is not a book that makes you sad because you don't live in an enchanting, exotic city but makes you happy knowing that it exists. It didn't make me sad or wishing for a romantic relationship, although I would be lying through my teeth if I said I didn't fall in love with Etienne. Instead it made me smile that relationships, the kind where everything works out in the end are still possible.