Review: All Roads Lead to Rome by Sabrina Fedel

All Roads Lead to Rome by Sabrina Fedel

Blurb from Goodreads:

When the daughter of a diplomat fake dates a Scottish celebrity in Italy, she soon finds herself living her own Roman Holiday until the feelings get real and the paparazzi's knives come out.Introverted, slightly anxious Astoria “Story” Herriot knows everything about Rome—her mom’s an attorney here and the two of them are living la dolce vita… at least until Story’s off to college in the fall.But when Story is in the wrong gelato shop at the right time, she’s swept up in a fake dating scheme with Scottish heartthrob, Luca Kinnaird, to protect his relationship with a pop princess. There’s something in it for her, too—Luca promises to help fund a scholarship in her dad’s memory. Soon she’s showing Luca the best cafés, sightseeing at the Mouth of Truth, and picnicking at the ruins of the Abbey of Santa Maria del Piano. Story’s travel guide skills are 10/10, but what she knows about being a celebrity—or having feelings for one? Zero.Pretending to be Luca’s guide—then his girlfriend—gets the paparazzi’s attention . . . and what’s true and what’s fake gets blurry as their different worlds crash together. Sophisticated, hot, rich, and with the most charming accent ever, Luca is full of surprises. And maybe, too, is Story’s perfectly planned future.It’s a fairy-tale romance in the Eternal City…will it have a fairy tale ending?

My Review:
This was the best YA romance I've read in a long time -- I know I said that recently but this will go down in my all time top 5 of the genre.  I couldn't put it down.  Such a great fake romance and I absolutely loved the setting and the characters.  You will not be disappointed by this one -- so good!!!

All Roads Lead to Rome comes out next week on June 18, 2024, and you can purchase HERE! 

Rome is sweltering as it waits patiently for the sun to set over the Spanish Steps. It's the kind of vapid heat that makes me wonder how the lions had the energy to leave their cages, let alone maul anyone.

I'm in John Keats's bedroom, the room he died in, overlooking the sprawling steps below. Horses sweat in the middle of Piazza di Spagna as they wait to give carriage rides, immovable in the small throng of late-May tourists. Most of the passersby don't even know this was Keats's house, despite the enormous crimson plaque on the side of it. They come here for selfies on the famous steps and never give John's shrine more than a careless glance. For me, the Keats-Shelley House is the best part of the neighborhood. I wonder if he stood exactly here, watching the people outside the way I do.