I have been given an ultimatum of sorts regarding a certain author’s books that infallibly bring me to tears.
And by tears, I mean the not-pretty-at-all sort of sniffling to drag the snot back in your face, tears ruining any semblance of make-up you applied however hapazardly, struggling to catch your breath tears.
He pulled me in with the one about the girl and boy that was made into a movie with Ryan Gosling and from that point I searched out averything I could find by this man.
After the, I don’t remember, tenth?, book, my darling put his foot down. I was not allowed to read books I knew would make me cry. Especially this author’s books, being so adept at doing so.
I catch myself at the bookstore when a new novel arrives, then wander away, to something less heart breaking.
Goodbye Nicholas Sparks, it was lovely to read your work.