Anna and the French Kiss by Stephanie Perkins
The only word I can think of that captures the feel of Stephanie Perkins' Anna and the French Kiss is delightful. This isn't serious fare, but it's not meant to be. It hits the intended mark perfectly: a light, fun, romantic tale of a teenage girl falling in love. Teen chick lit at its finest.
At about a third of the way through the book, I had to put it aside for a week because the temptation to jump on a plane back to France was too much for my weak francophile heart. (Why did Delta have to send me an email that day announcing a European fare sale?!)
The problem was with Perkins' descriptions of Parisian life; the sights, sounds, smells, and flavors of that glorious city. She captured the ambiance and feel of the city so well, I craved to be back at an outdoor cafe, watching Paris flow by as I nibbled on some quiche Lorraine and perhaps a raspberry macaron or tart au chocolate. The fact that I've only been back from France four months is not lost on me. If Paris weren't so expensive, I might never have come back. I'm exaggerating. Sort of.
Tragically, I didn't find my own Étienne, despite spending two months in France. Hmm. Maybe I should take another look at those airfares. I could do with a hot American/British/French boyfriend right about now.